Quill #88 - Halloween Memories #8

Our first Halloween, as parents, we lived in an apartment complex in Denver. Peregrin was taking AIT to learn electronics calibration and repair at Lowry Air Force Base. I'm sure a lot of our neighbors thought we were after candy, but we really just wanted to show off our special little kid.

"Spooky's" third Halloween, he really wanted to be Liono from a cartoon called Thundercats. We found clothing and accessories that worked, but Peregrin bought a red clown's wig and molded it into the distinctive Liono sweep. He did a great job, though few of our base neighbors knew who Liono was. The fourth Halloween, if I remember right, was He-Man. Again, we made a costume that outdid anything storebought.

Spooky gave us enough practice, over the years, that it really wasn't abnormal for us to do similar costumes for Kyrie. Unfortunately, we have few pictures of either of them on holidays.

I think the best costume was made the year I sewed a yellow Pikachu outfit for Kyrie. Peregrin made the lightning-bolt-shaped tail stand out exactly like the cartoon. And then, I cross-stitched all of Ash's patches for Spooky to wear inside a vest.

They were in the Halloween parade that year, marching side-by-side as Pikachu and Ash. I wish we had kept that costume rather than donating it to Goodwill when she outgrew it. But, who knew Pokemon would still be popular when I'd have a grandson to wear it again?

Quill #86 - Tip for Cooking Pumpkins

My daughter-in-law knew this trick from childhood, but it was one I discovered for myself, just a few years ago. I'm passing it on just in case I'm not the only person who hasn't encountered it somewhere else.

We live in the city in a neighborhood where we can't leave anything outdoors. Lamps get stolen or destroyed, our cars have been vandalized more than once. We even sometimes get fights on the street next to our house. Therefore, I don't dare leave pumpkins on the porch as decorations. We'd likely find them smashed, possibly through a window.

Even so, I can't bear not to have a few every year and I hate to see them go to waste. After I enjoy them inside for a while, it's time to use them. The easiest method I've found for cooking pumpkins - far easier than the stovetop method my mother taught me - is to clean them out and use the gourds as pots for baked rice dishes. Gumbo or Spanish rice works well, or something with a sweet spice to it.

I measure their capacity using cups of water, then use two cups water per cup of rice, add the other components and stir, then bake with the "lid" on top. That seems to hold the moisture in better.

If you want an easy sweet, add sugar and pumpkin pie spice to the rice. I prefer to make a savory dish for our evening meal since that takes care of two projects at once. When the rice is removed, the remaining pumpkin is easily scooped and removed from the rind that I used to spend hours cutting away. This really saves my hands, too.

If I'm not ready to bake pies with the cooked pumpkin, I measure one to two cups into freezer bags and store them frozen till needed for holiday baking. And I'm sure everyone in the world knew this trick before I did. I give you permission to laugh at me and feel superior - this time. (grin)

(images from free images online and Lolcats.)

Quill #85 - Halloween Memories #7

If you've ever seen the movie, Meet Me in St. Louis, with Judy Garland, you probably remember Tootie, the youngest daughter in the family, the mischievous troublemaker. Tootie had an obsession with all things ghoulish, though not of the harmful kind. Real danger frightened her just as much as anyone, but she had spunk. Tootie and my daughter could have been best friends, albeit competitive ones.

When Kyrie was eighteen months old, she memorized a poem called The Teeny Tiny Ghost by Lilian Moore.

TEENY TINY GHOST

A teeny, tiny ghost
no bigger than a mouse
at most,
lived in a great big house

It's hard to haunt
a great big house
when you're a teeny, tiny ghost
no bigger than a mouse
at most.

He did what he could do.

So every dark and stormy night
the kind that shakes the house with fright -
if you stood still and listened right,
you'd hear a
teeny tiny

Boo!

She would recite the poem and act it out, ending with a big jump on the "Boo!" She also had a black silk shirt that she borrowed from her daddy and she'd run around the house, arms outspread and flapping, with the silk streaming behind her yelling, "Bust, the Big Black Bat!" The red plush carpeting in our living room was lava and you couldn't walk on hot lava, so she'd build bridges across the living room out of books and toys that would help her navigate across the danger.

At two, my adorable daughter insisted on being a zombie for Halloween. At three, she wanted to be a werewolf. Similar progressions continued until she actually witnessed blood spurting from a stitch-worthy gash on her father's hand. After that, she was not quite as interested in lab experiments and dissecting.

She's still unique and fun, an interesting person to know, and she's planning on doing the Zombie Walk whenever possible. But, thankfully, I no longer have to worry about her becoming a sword-wielding murderess. She has a very kind and generous heart, eeeeeeeeevil laugh and all.

(Meet Me In St. Louis image from Reel Classics)

Quill #83 - Halloween Memories #6

Peregrin, upon his return from a year in Korea, was stationed at Ft. Huachuca in Arizona for two years, most of which son and I spent with him. Our first year there could easily be titled "The Year in Which a New Army Family Learns Base Rules." For example, the sameness of every single house is how things are preferred in the military.

Thus, when we planted pumpkins in our back yard and they took over our property, we were not the most popular family on the base. We were the subject of much higher level discussion, apparently, and it was decided that we would be allowed to keep the pumpkins as a form of helping ourselves, much like a garden might, but we were warned that the vines would have to be chopped and removed as soon as the gourds could be harvested. It was also suggested to us, strongly, that, in turn for this favor and leniency, we might take a few pumpkins or a pie to our base commander in gratitude.

When the pumpkins had turned orange and were about the size of cantaloupes, our leniency ended. We were ordered to harvest and clean up the yard. I would have liked to let them grow another couple of weeks but we weren't given a choice in the matter. We did as we were told. I don't remember if we gave any to the commander. I may have given a pie or two. I was not the most docile member of the community, often bristling at rules and orders that didn't seem fair to me.

My second year on base was better, but I was glad Peregrin decided not to make a career out of the military. One four-year stint was more than enough for me. Too many people don't realize that when one member of a family serves, the whole family serves with them, apart half the time and living within strict guidelines if together. The Army didn't just own him; it owned all three of us.

Veterans do deserve a lot of respect for the service they give to country. So do their families.

Quill #82 - Halloween Memories #5

My parents never drank alcohol. Maybe they didn't need it to enjoy their lives, but they were vehemently opposed to anyone drinking it. When my grandfather died and Grandma began having one glass of wine with her evening meals, it sparked a controversy in her five children and their spouses. My parents were, as far as I know, the only ones opposed to her imbibing. Even back then I thought my folks were being a little staid. Grandma was a grown woman, old enough to make her own decisions, and it wasn't like she'd suddenly added a bottle-a-day addiction to harsh whiskey.

After growing up in that household, I was very careful with alcohol when I was allowed to drink. At parties, I still limit myself to two drinks or less, usually much less. I've had two drinks in one evening possibly three or four times in my life. One of those times sparked a story other than the one I'm telling you now because I also get drunk very easily. However, the first time I drank "too much," I had only swallowed about a half a shot glass full of wine.

I was at a party at my friend, Cindi's, house, along with my roommate, N, my boyfriend, Peregrin, and a half dozen or more acquaintances. I had a glass of wine I was slowly sipping until it was time to leave. When N, Peregrin and I returned to my apartment, I wasn't feeling very well. My tumbly was rumbly and I decided to take a dose of Bromo Seltzer to settle it. Bromo Seltzer was a lot like a powdered form of Alka Seltzer with no catchy commercial jingles, but it helped quickly. Only, suddenly, I was falling down laughing, giggling uncontrollably, and acting wasted. Peregrin and N were rightly confused because I hadn't had enough alcohol for a child to be drunk, much less an adult female! They could not figure out what was wrong with me and I wasn't helping any.

Cindi was studying to be a nurse. N and Peregrin called her with my symptoms, very frightened because I absolutely was not acting like myself. She told them I was drunk but they protested on the basis that two ounces of wine wouldn't be enough for ANYONE to be like this. Given their concern, and because she's a good friend, she rushed over to check on me, leaving her own party to be my nurse.

Turns out, the culprit was the Bromo Seltzer. Its fast-acting bubbles pushed what little alcohol I'd had into my bloodstream all at once. My drunken state lasted about thirty minutes. By the time Cindi arrived, I was calmly reclining in bed, watched like a hawk by my two bemused guardians. Thankfully, Cindi was more amused than angry.

Peregrin often teases me about that night. He claims I'm the cheapest drunk in history. He may be right.

(wine drinking images from Google's royalty free images online)

Quill #81 - Halloween Memories #4

My middle brother was visiting me at college. We were walking together through the alleys and city streets near my off-campus apartment. It was dark and cold, but not particularly late. We were bundled up in jackets and gloves and just being companionable, for once.

We passed the exit of a bar just as three soused college students came out. For some reason, they encircled me and started teasing, not letting me pass. I grew angry, mostly upset that they were spoiling a rare fun time with my brother. I pulled off one of my soft fuzzy mittens and began flapping it across the face of the ringleader, several times. It probably tickled him, but did no harm. I think I was also furiously repeating, "Let me go, right now!"

He laughed, threw up his hands and backed away, nodding to his friends to release me. I hooked arms with my brother and we continued onward, leaving the amused threesome behind. I don't know if Bro was looking at me with respect or borderline horror, but he seemed impressed that I had stood my ground (as if I had a choice) armed with only my gumption and a white cloth glove.

Quill #80 - Skeletons (2010)

Dana and I walked through the haunted house.
Mechanical ghouls jumped at us,
Vampires sprang from coffins,
Ghosts floated on wires to spook us.
Then we came to a completely dark room.
We were just nervous enough,
Knowing that something more, as yet unseen,
Would surprise us anew that
We couldn't move forward.

In spite of the silly nature of all
We had encountered, we knew,
Just knew, that the next ghastly thing,
Whatever it might be,
Would be the last straw.
Frozen, Dana and I waited for
Someone to save us, another customer,
An employee, anyone who would
Step ahead of us and trigger what we could not.

We stayed there until the owner came
To investigate our long presence in his
Fun House attraction.
Slowly, kindly, he led us the
Six feet through the last room,
Empty of all but darkness and air,
To the exit door which had been
Just one fear too far away.

Quill #79 - Halloween Memories #3

My brother cooked up a scheme. We had seen kids going around with cans to trick-or-treat for UNICEF. They were always given money instead of candy. He wanted to see if we could get some quick cash, too. I didn't often agree with his nefarious plans but this time I did. I knew my dad didn't like UNICEF, the organization, and I figured he wouldn't be too upset over this ruse if we were caught. Plus, in our little town, UNICEF cans were rare. What could go wrong?

We tried it one time and never again. Our very first house, we knocked on the door, smiled our innocent best, and - in unison - said the magic money phrase, "Trick-or-treat for UNICEF!"

The elderly man we had just accosted with our cuteness immediately noticed our lack of a papered collection can. Bro, the cannier of us, replied that we had forgotten it at home. Our neighbor peered at us with suspicion but dropped two nickels into each of our bags. We were ecstatic. Twenty cents on our first gig!

But then, the man continued. I guess he felt guilty about accusing us of fraud. He told us he hadn't had time to go out and buy any candy but we should wait a moment. He went back into his house and brought out an unopened package of cookies, put them into my bag and asked me to be sure to share with my little brother. We said we'd share and thanked him several times for his kindness.

At the car, Mom wanted to know what had taken so long. We told her everything except our deception. But, when she said the man had probably given us the only treat he owned for the next month, we both started crying. The guilt was too much to bear.

We had a short journey that night. My brother and I never told our parents and never spoke to each other about what we'd done. We held the shame silently. I don't know if he even remembers now. All I know is that I keep four nickels and a package of cookies on hand every year at Halloween, just in case.

Quill #78 - Guest (2010)

I couldn't see,
The room so dark there were no shadows.
Three globes of light rose from the floorboards,
Hovered two feet from my face.
My heart tattered in my chest;
My mouth hollowed.
I didn't blink once.
And, moments later,
The lights floated slowly toward the door.
For a few seconds, they left me in blackness,
Then I saw a gentle glow from
The other side of the door,
Luminescent yellow, which slowly faded.
There was no light source anywhere
To create such a display.
And when I told my hostess,
The next morning,
She scoffed at me.
She knew her house was haunted,
But didn't believe I could have seen anything.
In her mind, apparently,
She was the only living person
Allowed to perceive oddities.

Quill #77 - The Castle (1980)

It stands there,
Majestic,
Weeping,
Crying for a time past,
Crying for what was
And is no longer.
The silence hides it.
The wind explores it.
The shadows comfort it.
And,
Out of the silence,
It speaks.

Quill #76 - Halloween Memories #2

I was very little, fewer than five years old. My middle brother was under two, just old enough to walk with a hand but still mostly carried. Mom and Dad decided we'd brave the slightly icy streets for a brief trick-or-treat walk around the neighborhood.

On our way to the first house, Mom slipped on a short flight of stone steps and cracked her ankle. Somehow, we all managed to hobble home, where Mom spent the next week with her legs elevated. I'm pretty sure that was the first time I had seen my mother in bed in the daytime.

Quill #75 - Halloween Memories #1

There are always houses you don't visit.

Houses with no porch lights are generally avoided on Halloween night. You expect fun tricks from well-lit domiciles, but nothing mean or nasty.

When I was eight or nine, I went trick-or-treating to a well-lit house. Halfway up the jumblied sidewalk, the porch lights went out. In the sudden darkness, I fell. Sharp pain lanced my palms and I found myself picking thumb tacks from my hands. Crying, I went back to the car and showed my mother. We left and never returned to that house.

Quill #74 - Solipsism, Or Reverse? (2010)

When my husband sleeps
His body drifts away.
I can turn over in bed
And pound the mattress on his side.
I strike nothing.
I can stand and look for him,
Even moving the covers,
And he doesn't exist.
When his work calls for him,
Because he hasn't yet arrived there,
I can honestly say he must have
Already left because
He is not in bed.
But the moment I call his name,
He wakes, reappears, and answers,
From the very spot I was hitting,
Under the covers I moved to seek him.
And he's frustrated now
Because he must hurry,
Speed everything up,
Or the boss will not believe us again,
The next time he disappears.

Quill #73 - Chip Off the Old Block

One night, a few winters ago, I was kept awake particularly late, chatting with a friend through our computers. I heard a loud crash and investigated. On my bed, right where I would have laid my head, was a very large, heavy chunk of plaster from the ceiling of my bedroom. It was part of a much larger section, not only what landed on the bed. The piece missing from the ceiling, including the pumpkin-sized chunk that could have killed me if I'd been sleeping when this happened, was exactly - exactly - the size and shape of a child's coffin.

Quill #72 - Spectre (2010)

A woman in a lacy white dress
Sat at a spinning wheel.
When I walked into my playroom

She nodded to me.
I was shy and ignored her,
Choosing some toys from my chest
To play on the braided rag rug.

She watched me as she worked.
After a while I drew some courage.
"Are you a friend of my mother's?"
I asked.
The lady smiled and stopped work.
"Lela knows me," she said.

I stood and walked to her,
Almost brushing the wheel.

Up close, her dress was like sheer curtains,
Sunlight shone through, making no shadows.
I put out my hand to touch
Nothing and saw nobody but momentary glare
From the windows behind me.

Perhaps I was lucky she disappeared
In the aurora of the day,
Before a shadow that meant me no harm
Could prick my finger.

I was not ready, then,
For the hundred year sleep.

Quill #70 - Moore on my Mind (2010)

(with apologies to Christopher Moore)

"I keep telling you, Babd,"
She whined resignedly,
"It's just not as good as ham."
She sighed again, barely able to remember.
"And New Meat was mostly gone
By the time we got back to him."
Babd chewed thoughtfully.
The sisters grimly pulled another
Bone from the mostly bare corpse,
Cracked it open for marrow,
And slurped the essence companionably.
Even sewer harpies didn't have to fight,
Constantly.
Ham or not, New Meat was better than rat.
"Next time," Babd wheedled,
Conceding one point,
"No Bummer!"
All three ravens nodded.