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THURSDAY
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"Halloween Katz" Kat
Sculpture by Marie Hungler. Photo by Bob Gentry 10/30/02. © 2002 Stanyan
Music Group
A Thought for Today
Accept smiles from strangers, but not
unwrapped candy.
FLIGHTS FROM6THE
PAST
31 October, 1998
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
Tonight is All Saints Eve, Halloween, Hallowmass, or Allhallow even,
depending on where you live. It’s a night when witches, spirits, ghosts
and the undead muck about. The origin of this popular belief dates back to
pre-Christian times. In the Celtic calendar it falls on the last day of
the year and is the time when supernatural beings take the form of bats,
wolves and other creatures of the night.
Today in 1684 George Talbot murders a Royal Customs collector. Alas Talbot
is the nephew of Lord Baltimore protector of the Maryland County. His
lordship is fined 2,500 pounds for the crime & his nephew is sent into
exile for five years.
1793: Girondins is guillotined at Place de la Concorde in Paris. 1926:
Harry Houdini fails to escape death. 1959: Lee Harvey Oswald informs
reporters in Russia (where the former US Marine is living), "I will never
return to the United States . . . I would like to spend the rest of my
life here and get a normal life." 1968: Dateline Hollywood – silent screen
actor Ramon Novarro murdered. In 1971 a bomb exploded at the top of the
Post Office Tower in London.
But enough of all this madness and mayhem, stay home and bob for apples or
rent "Bride of Frankenstein" and think of June weddings.
10/16/1998 First published in Flight Plan 10/31/1998
Here are some thoughts of more recent origin. They come from Pat & The
Pups who obviously spend all their spare time and loose change watching
horror movies.
HALLOWEEN SAFETY RULES
With Halloween upon us, it is worthwhile to remember a few simple rules to
help keep this season healthy, happy and SAFE! Please use these helpful
hints this and every year.
1. When it appears that you have killed the monster, NEVER check to see if
it's really dead.
2. Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.
3. Do not search the basement, especially if the power has gone out.
4. If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language that they
should not know, shoot them immediately. It will save you a lot of grief
in the long run. However, it will probably take several rounds to kill
them, so be prepared. This also applies to kids who speak with somebody
else's voice.
5. When you have the benefit of numbers, NEVER pair off and go alone.
6. As a general rule, don't solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.
7. Never stand in, on, or above a grave, tomb, or crypt. This would apply
to any other house of the dead as well.
8. If you're searching for something that caused a loud noise and find out
that it's just the cat, GET THE HELL OUT!
9. If appliances start operating by themselves, do not check for short
circuits; just get out.
10. Do not take ANYTHING from the dead. (You don’t know where it’s been.)
11. If you find a town that looks deserted, there's probably a good reason
for it. Don't stop and look around.
12. Don't fool with recombinant DNA technology unless you're sure you know
what you're doing.
13. If you're running from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at
least twice, more if you are female. Also note that, despite the fact that
you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it's still
moving fast enough to catch up with you.
14. If your companions suddenly begin to exhibit uncharacteristic behavior
such as hissing, fascination for blood, glowing eyes, increasing
hairiness, and so on, kill them immediately.
15. Stay away from certain geographical locations, some of which are
listed here: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, Nilbog (you're in
trouble if you recognize this one), anywhere in Texas where chainsaws are
sold, the Bermuda Triangle, or any small town in Maine.
16. If your car runs out of gas at night on a lonely road, do not go to
the nearby deserted-looking house to phone for help. If you think that it
is strange you ran out of gas because you thought you had most of a tank,
shoot yourself instead. You are going to die anyway, and most likely be
eaten.
17. Beware of strangers bearing tools. For example: chainsaws, staple
guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, combines, lawnmowers,
butane torches, soldering irons, band saws, or any devices made from
deceased companions.
18. If you find that your house is built upon a cemetery, now is the time
to move in with the in-laws. This also applies to houses that had previous
inhabitants who went mad or committed suicide or died in some horrible
fashion, or had inhabitants who performed satanic practices.
19. Dress appropriately. When investigating a noise downstairs in an old
house, women should not wear a flimsy negligee. And carry a flashlight,
not a candle.
20. Do not mention the names of demons around open flames, as these can
flare suddenly. Be especially careful of fireplaces in this regard.
Next Tuesday we get to vote. Given the nastiness of most local campaigns,
including an especially ugly one in California in the race for Governor of
this great state, that’s really scary. Though nothing is more frightening
than the candidates themselves. Talk about skeletons falling out of
closets.
As we close out another month, sleep warm – but before doing so on this
particular evening don’t forget to bolt the door and check under the bed.
One final thought, Happy Birthday to Dan Rather.
RM 10/30/2002 Midnight PST Previously unpublished except as noted.
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(posted 09/28/2002).
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Barbara Bel
Geddes o John Candy o Michael Collins o Dale Evans o
Lee Grant o Diedre
Hall o Adam Horovitz o Chiang Kai-shek o John Keats o
Michael Landon o Juliette Low o Larry Mullen, Jr. o Dermot Mulroney o Jane Pauley o Dan
Rather o David Ogden Stiers o Vanilla Ice o Jan Vermeer o Ken Wahl o Ethel Waters |
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The ghosts that each of us keep hidden in our hearts are the ones we
fear the most.
There are choices and choices that go
wanting. We wouldn’t know of ghosts without the haunting.
We could use a lot more skeleton keys for
and a lot less skeletons in our closets.
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A JACK-O’LANTERN OF ONE’S OWN
An October Memory for Wayne Green |
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It wasn’t the
hills or sledding there.
or chasing the girls down ice-clean streets –
stealing their mittens and paperbagged lunches
and sharing them with each other.
Not even the snowballs aimed at strangers,
then running ‘round corners to staked safe place.
Part of it maybe, not all. What it was mostly
was not knowing what it was. Not even thinking
about it till now.
Some other yesterday back in the distance,
a long-ago twilight, a long time ago. Six
of us boys lined up and boasting, seeing just
which one could piss furthest, longest.
running the risk of bursting our kidneys
till enough was stored up
to write names in the snow.
Having a short name, I won some and lost
some, I carried the day. I stumbled, I fell.
Now’s not so much different from
long time ago.
Many’s the snowman – neighborhood effort.
you bring the carrot, I’ll bring the coal. Hard
Guardian Angel not melting till now.
Spare tires that hung from limbs over water.
A dive when the creek had more water
than mud., A place to go off to where every
injustice, real or imagined, could be
ridden out.
Books, like jeans, were tossed in a corner,
left there dirty, dog-eared to grow.
Homework was building a hut in the cellar
to hide in and ride out fantasy, fiction, mind
fodder and stuffing. Planning a weekend
never a life, breaking the skin on my dick
in the darkness alone and forsaken, bleeding
to death. Hearing those footsteps above in
the kitchen, knowing that SHE must have
heard me cry out.
It wasn’t the floorboards, only the foreskin
under the kitchen cracking from friction.
One-legged jumpers hopping chalked boxes
on cleaned-up sidewalks between heavy snows.
The taw a marble, a half-eaten jaw-breaker,
a rock from a pocket that fell through a hole.
Winter game, summer game, names no longer
known. Red Rover, Red Rover, won’t you
come over . . .
was that Kick-the-can or Sheep-in-my pen?
Whatever, whatever, It comes back whenever
I think of myself as a fully-grown man.
The lines ‘round my forehead and ‘round
my eye corners bunch up like creased
leather on the back of the backseat of old
Buick Sedans.
Me growing older, imagine the irony.
I couldn’t wait, thought it might never happen.
Was sure I’d be cut down before the next season,
let alone grow up, grow older, grow old. A
fatalist then always seeing the dark side. Why,
looking back, is there now only light?
A child builds life around birthdays and
Holidays, what other calendar works for
the young?
Money enough every October
for only one fat golden pumpkin. An eye
for my brother to hollow, the other for me
to carve. The mouth one more problem,
always, an argument.
Shouldn’t Jacks smile?/ No Jack ought to frown.
When did a smile in front of a candle bully
a trick into a treat? No matter how careful
the paring and carving, always one tooth
usually upper, snapped onto the table
dropped into a lap, bounced on the floor
and got trod underfoot.
Oh brother, my brother beginning to bawl
over spoiled jack-o’-lantern,
just part of the plan.
My baby brother cried quicker, easier
than movie star ladies in mush matinees.
Tears would well up at the smell of a
quarter. Hush money, of course, to quiet
the kid. It always did. Then off to the grocery
for jellybeans, Jujubes. Poor old Jack left on
the table. Mama would always redo his
bridgework and always inevitable smile,
not a frown. Still what is a holiday without
family ritual. Thanksgiving, Halloween –
each has its rules. And, anyway, Mama
was some kind of sculptor. God may
have made Adam but ever year Mama
tooled up and turned out a remake of Jack.
Rooms aren’t important to kids growing up
as long as there’s nails and boards to build
boxes.
A box of your own is a must. It gives the head
running room the heart its own hollow,
the body a place
to bed down and bed.
It well might be worth forgoing the ransom
for pumpkins messed up, carved crooked
on purpose
if every kid’s Bill of Rights included a jackknife,
a taw of importance and his own scowling Jack.
- from "Folio No. 56, fall 1986 |
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