Woe, no mo’. Zozobra!

Hi everybody! Daisy Jones-Klein here again. And to start off, I’ve got a short quiz for you, Now, answer these questions truthfully:

• Do you ever feel anxious for more than a day?
• Ever have trouble sleeping?
• Ever get so busy thinking about what you gotta do next that you forget what you're supposed to be doing now?
• Got money woes?
• Ever feel stressed from trying to do too much, too fast?

Well, if you answered “yes” to two or more of these questions, then I’ve got some bad news to break to ya’: You’re probably a Peep. Sorry, Dude. It happens.

Us dogs and other quadruped critters generally don’t fret about the sorts of things you Peeps seem to obsess over. Sure, we’ve got stuff to keep us wary, like not getting eaten by a coyote, or going to the vet, or getting tricked into taking a bath. But that’s just street-smart living, and certainly no reason to forgo a good bellyrub, or the insouciance of a warm nap in the sunshine, or the simple joie de vivre of chasing a favorite squeaky toy. But you Peeps … you really do seem to have trouble letting go of your woes and living in the moment. Not every song has to be the Blues.

I’m not trying to blame you Peeps for these shortcomings. I understand that you probably can’t help yourselves. After all, being a Peep is a hereditary condition, something you’re born with. If your birth parents were Peeps, chances are you’re one, too. It’s a chronic condition, likely to last a lifetime. And there’s no known cure; the best you can hope for is accommodation and adaptation. Again, I’m really so sorry, Dude.

But here in Santa Fe, The City Different as it’s often called, Peeps have developed a tradition to help them cope with their troubles. It’s called Zozobra, and it started all the way back in 1924. It’s a part of the Fiesta de Santa Fe, a New Mexico tradition that goes even further back, all the way to 1712. In dog-years, that’s like two millennia!

So what, or who, is Zozobra? He’s Old Man Gloom, a 50-foot marionette that flails, moans, and groans. Over the years he’s gotten bigger, as have the crowds that come to see him. 

In the weeks leading up to Zozobra’s big day, Peeps can bring him their woes. All kinds of symbols of bad luck make their way to him – overdue bills, Dear John letters, sad poems, pink slips, and even the occasional wedding dress no longer memorable. These are all shredded and stuffed inside Zozobra as Old Man Gloom takes form.

On the Big Day, Zozobra is brought out to Fort Marcy Park and stood up to his full height of despair and gloominess:

Tens of thousands of Peeps come out to the park to picnic, to listen to the music, and to watch Zozobra standing tall and evil, flailing his arms, moving his head, and letting rip the occasional gloomy moan.

And when the sun’s finally set and the music has stopped, it’s just Zozobra, still standing tall and flailing against an ever-darkening sky. The crowd is getting restless, and begins to chant “Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!” This goes on and on, while Zozobra gets ever more agitated and flailing and moaning. 

But his protestations are to no avail, and the crowd keeps on chanting “Burn him! Burn him! Burn him!”

And so they do:

The flames climb up and up, burning Old Man Gloom and all the troubles stuffed inside. And as his head bursts into flames and Zozobra collapses into his own ash heap, fireworks light up the sky. Old Man Gloom is gone, lost in his fiery demise, taking with him all our troubles for another whole year.

It’s quite a fine tradition for Santa Feans. It's sorta like having a karmic cleansing, Yom Kippur atonement, Dorothy and Toto stepping into Oz after the twister, having your very own Ghostbusters Proton Pack, an Airing of Grievances at Festivus, a city-wide exorcism, rainbows after a thunderstorm, a Monopoly get-out-of-jail-free card, a tune-up for your chakras, and a pardon from the Governor, all rolled into one. How cool is that! 

Or, you could try being a bit more like us dogs. That usually works, too.

Daisy Jones-Klein

Santa Fe, NM

September 2013