Annual Celebration
Frozen Dead Guy Days is celebrated from Friday through Sunday on the first full weekend of March. Coffin races, a slow-motion parade, and "Frozen Dead Guy" lookalike contests are held. A documentary on "Grandpa Bredo", called Grandpa's in the Tuff Shed, is shown. A newer version of the film, Grandpa's Still in the Tuff Shed, was premiered in Nederland on March 7, 2003.
Other events include a tour of the Tuff Shed where Grandpa is still frozen; a "polar plunge" for those brave enough to go swimming in Colorado in early March (which generally requires breaking through the ice); a dance, called "Grandpa's Blue Ball"; pancake breakfasts; a market showcasing local artists; snowshoe races, and snow sculpture contests. Glacier Ice Cream, headquartered in the nearby city of Boulder, makes a flavor specifically for the festival (named, appropriately enough, Frozen Dead Guy), consisting of fruit-flavored blue ice cream mixed with crushed Oreo cookies and sour gummy worms. Tours of the Tuff Shed where Grandpa is still frozen were suspended after 2005, after Grandpa's family "became frustrated with Frozen Dead Guy Days", but they resumed with the 2010 celebration.
Although Trygve and Aud filed a complaint against Nederland involving money and naming rights in 2005, Frozen Dead Guy Days is still alive; the most recent celebration was held March 4–6, 2011, and the next is scheduled for March 2-4, 2012. According to an article in the February 7, 1995, Denver Post, Aud Morstol was found guilty by a jury of building-use and zoning violations. The Nederland town judge ordered her to remove the frozen body of her father from Nederland by March 6 or face 10 days in jail and a $600.00 fine.
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Famous quotes containing the words annual and/or celebration:
“Time that scatters hair upon a head
Spreads the ice sheet on the shaven lawn;
Signing an annual permit for the frost....”
—Philip Larkin (1922–1986)
“And, indeed, is there not something holy about a great kitchen?... The scoured gleam of row upon row of metal vessels dangling from hooks or reposing on their shelves till needed with the air of so many chalices waiting for the celebration of the sacrament of food. And the range like an altar, yes, before which my mother bowed in perpetual homage, a fringe of sweat upon her upper lip and the fire glowing in her cheeks.”
—Angela Carter (1940–1992)