Mister Rogers Presenta: Dia De Los Muertos

Come celebrate the Day of the Dead at Mister Rogers on Friday October 30 at 11 pm.
Live...ish Music (it’s the day of the dead after all!)
Dance to a hypnotizing and dark performance by Sensei and a very special performance by Cameo Culture.




Altar of Remembrance
Feel free to bring small mementos, photographs, flowers, or anything else you’d like to remember the life of a special loved one.

Costume Competition
We want to see your most magnificent costumes! They’ll be mystery prizes…

We’ve been brewing some concoctions in our cauldron made from fresh seasonal ingredients.

And now for storytime… 

Señor Rogers the Bird Whisperer:
The pueblo Amador was nestled in the mountains of Mexico.

The people of the little town worshipped the elements that sustained them- the land that brought them autumn's harvest, the sky that brought the sun, but above all, they worshipped the birds that brought the rain. 

Señor Rogers lived deep in Amador’s artist colony, in the loft above the town's only art gallery. Everyone in the pueblo loved Señor Rogers and young artists often visited him for his sage advice. He stroked his long grey beard when he listened to his friends and neighbors, sometimes closing his eyes to really listen.

One year, the winter rains were late to arrive. The people waited and waited but the birds never came, so the rain never came and all the land was dry. The people were worried.

Señor Rogers walked into the barren fields and drew a circle around himself with his walking stick. He threw down the staff and yelled to the birds. 
"People of the heavens! I will whistle and dance until you flock over our lands so we can sing along with your songs!" 
Señor Rogers sung to the birds and danced. His hands flowed through the air. He danced without stopping through the night. 
As the sun began to peek over the mountains, Señor Rogers suddenly stopped moving. He put his finger to his lips. The crowd that had gathered around him fell silent.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
"They're coming!"

As the words left his mouth, flocks of crows and ravens and other feathered creatures soared from every direction above the people’s heads. The people cheered and stomped and the birds cawed and piped and warbled and squawked. Thunder roared and water burst from the sky. Señor Rogers had saved the land and ensured a bountiful harvest. From that day on, everyone called him the Bird Whisperer.

Now, every year on Dia de Los Muertos all the townspeople gather at Señor Rogers’ grave. They sing and dance alongside the birds that come to celebrate the bountiful life of a person from the heavens.