It’s been going on as long as I’ve been celebrating the Deipnon, at least, so that’s got to be four years or so, because part of my practice is to make an offering to my ancestors on that day. What began as a simple-but-expensive libation (olive oil and Scotch) now includes offering an IRA contribution to my ancestors, but the feeling has grown that I need to honor my ancestors more. When Leonard Nimoy died, unlike when any other actor I’ve heard of has passed, I felt I should do more to venerate him. Moreover, it seemed like every class I attended at Between the Sacred Space-Worlds included some message for me about ancestor worship.
Being a money worker, seeing what Canadians are doing to their fivers pretty much smacked me over the head with it: you are right to honor the dead, the heroic dead, the ancestors of blood and the ancestors who otherwise shaped you. So, I bought a book and cleared off a space for a shrine. Or for the cats, if I’m not careful.