The Dead Man's Dance

The Dead Man's Dance
Originally uploaded by Snurri

"The first invitations arrived in early October of 1978: pumpkins cut from construction paper, the details rendered in bold calligraphy. 'You are cordially invited to a costume ball at Blue Hill Cemetery, October 31st, dusk. Please present your invitation at the gate.' They were delivered, via unknown means, to about a hundred homes. The addressees included locksmiths, large-scale gardeners, childcare professionals, former ad executives, carpenters and a wealthy recluse who had not stuck more than the barrel of a shotgun out his door since the Exile. . . . It is believed that all who were invited (even the recluse, Mr. Martin VanDenElzen) attended. Inspired, perhaps, by the novelty of the event, the costumes they created exhibited an extraordinary level of detail and care. Carol 'Dusty' Lang, 57, a former schoolteacher, went as a squirrel queen, wearing a suit made from the skins of all the acorn-hoarding tree-dwellers she had trapped and eaten over the six years previous. Feodor Samos, 14, attended with his parents as the giant robot Gort from the film 'The Day the Earth Stood Still'; while Feodor stood only 4' 6", in the costume he was more than seven feet tall, towering over his parents (attending as President and Mrs. McQueen, whom many citizens--based upon the quantum reality-roulette of People Magazine--believe won the 1976 election (see p.388)). Mr. VanDenElzen attended as Cathy Gale, a secret agent from a little-known British television show. . . . The invited guests gathered as the sun set, along with a gaggle of curious observers. The first grave opened at 6:03. . . . Blue Hill Cemetery lies within the bounds of the Hawk Heights neighborhood, and as such is populated by that area's dead; over the years Dutch and German immigrants have been joined by stage actors, musicians, and an itinerant group of Hungarian circus performers. As such the ball did not lack for entertainment. . . . A variety of delicacies were provided, ranging from the obligatory pumpkin dishes to stroopwafels, katjes, and Hungarian potato candy. Apple cider of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties flowed freely as the evening progressed. . . . While some were at first reluctant to engage with the hosts, it was clear that the dead had gone to extraordinary lengths to please. Tailors among them had mended the fine suits and dresses in which they had been interred, and if, during the waltz, one had to contend with the occasional fallen ear or detached foot, it was after all not much to ask. 'As conversationalists, the dead are not to be equaled,' Mrs. Samos reported later, 'though one must also consider the matter of their breath.' . . . The music and feasting lasted until just before dawn, and a few of the revelers were apparently so charmed by their hosts that they chose to remain. . . . The Dead Man's Dance is now an annual affair, and among the most anticipated social events of the season. There are few in the city who do not approach their mailboxes with an extra level of excitement when October arrives. (RSVP not necessary.)" (p.350)