I have always enjoyed Halloween. I know - some say it is satan's holiday and Christians shouldn't participate. If I took part in seances and blood rituals and all things satanic and was a real witch, then you can throw stones BUT our family enjoys dressing up in some garb and letting our inhibitions run loose. Halloween is the time to do that!
Actually, I enjoy being someone else so much one time a year wasn't enough, so I dreamed up a character several years ago called Shirlene. Shirlene flits around all over the world even though she has hillbilly blood coursing through her veins. She has even been to Paris and Ethiopia! She is my altar ego with her bright-red dyed hair, her coke-bottle glasses, and is quite a spectacle. Both my daughters discovered their "other personality" and followed suit with Lea as Houston, and Dana as Raynelle. Those two showed up uninvited at Joe's birthday cook-out Saturday night. You should have seen Houston's new hair color. It was a blend of kool-aid colors. Raynelle was sporting a new haircut that Billy Ray Cyrus would envy.My sister, Donna, has an alternative side called Darnell. We are patiently waiting for "Muffy" to show her stuff. (Don't worry, I won't give you away.) I see signs that granddaughter Kensley will carry on our tradition! But I am getting off the main subject-Halloween.
Back in the late 70's we lived in a two story farm house with a partial basement. With some help from a friend - Barbara Dunn - we transformed our basement into a haunted house in preparation for our annual Halloween party. We planned it for weeks while we were standing side by side in a barn stripping tobacco. One day we drove to the back of Padaddy's farm to get an old cow skull to use for decorations. We hauled a couple of refrigerator boxes home from a furniture store in town to make tunnels to crawl through. (I remember my mom saying, "Oh no, we don't have to get down and crawl, do we?" but she did!) We enlisted our oldest daughters to pose as zombies and ghosts. With their faces covered in white paint, black circles under their eyes, and enhanced by dim lighting they made one's heart skip a beat or two when they sat up in their bed and/or stepped out in front of you when you were on your hands and knees crawling through the nearly dark maze (aka-refrigerator boxes).
Both our husbands got into the spirit (no pun intended). Barbara made Harold a cave man costume and as people passed his "cave" he growled, grunted, and swung a large stick around. With Joe's height and size, he made a formidable monster. At age 72, he still loves playing "monster" with our youngest grandson. He doesn't even have to dress in a costume -he is pretty scary when he chases after Edison yelling "Grrrrrrrr!"
Barbara turned into a fortune teller named Madame Zero. Complete with long flowing gown, head covered with a wig and wrapped in a turban, and with her eyeglasses decorated with feathers on each corner, she "red" our palms. No, I didn't mispell read, she actually "red" our palms. She asked each person going through the spookhouse if they wanted their palms read, and proceeded to paint them red with her paintbrush and washable paint. She was hilarious! I still chuckle when I think about her. She also entertained the visitors by telling them each their fortunes that she thought up ahead of time and rehearsed.
I absolutely love being a witch. Not a pretty witch named Glynda as in The Wizard of Oz, but an old mean, ugly witch from the west. If you ask Joe he'll probably say I am one all year long, but that particular Halloween I got to dress in black and give my characterput all I had. I made a long gathered black skirt and cape, and wore a pointed witch's hat that was crooked over. With a couple of front teeth blacked out, I rehearsed my best witches wicked laugh -"Hee-hee-hee-heeeeeeeee, hon-eeey"! It was my responsibility to greet each arriving family, who were all disguised in costumes, and take them to the basement. To not go down there, was not an option! Everyone to this day says that was the best haunted house and party they ever went to. To a dye-hard old witch like me, that is a great compliment!
Forks Church hosts "Trunk or Treat" each year. We line our cars up and hand out candy from the trunks/beds of our cars/trucks. There is chili to warm you inside the Fellowship Hall. In our Life Center there will be games with prizes for the children. It's a time for families to have fun together and perhaps someone who doesn't attend church will see that Christians do have fun.
Come visit my "trunk". Just look for an ugly old witch! Tell me you read this blog and I'll "treat" you also.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
My mother's only remaining sibling, Aunt Loraine, celebrated her 99th birthday this month. Their father, my Padaddy, died at age 98. His brother was 93 when he passed. My grandmother's sister, who was married to Padaddy's brother, lived to be 95. Their minds were good and they remained in their homes right up until the end.
I have three aunts by marriage that are 83, 85 and 95. My mother is 81. All of them are still as sharp as ever and all live at home. Aunt Loraine still drives! She states boldly that she can "drive as good as I ever could."
I speak for all the family when I say we are so very thankful we have had them with us this long. I also painfully realize, given their ages, we may lose all of them close together. Each time we are with them, my sister Angela and I ask questions about their lives and write down their answers. We have learned so many interesting facts that would have been lost if we had not inquired.
I hosted a "cousin" dinner last year that included the aunts. Aunt Pauline and Mom were the only two that could be there, so I sat beside Aunt Pauline at the kitchen table and began my question and answer session with her. I began by asking her where was the first place she and Uncle Willie Mack lived. With that one question we gleaned a wealth of information.
A few times she had to back up or think for just a few seconds but she recalled each location in order. Her recollections also revealed little tidbits that happened while in a particular location. It also gave us a tiny glimpse into painful events . At times I could hardly write fast enough to get it down. If something wasn't clear to me, I asked her to explain so I could get all the facts correctly.
All her children were present that evening and we were all seated at or gathered around the table and in the kitchen. It was a precious time together. Later, I worked through my notes and wrote her "story". It is not her complete memoirs, of course, but it is a snapshot we can take out and recall a precious family member's life.
You can do it, too. Maybe you don't have a family member who is past 90 years old, but start where you can. If your grandparents have passed, then ask someone who knew them if they have any information. Even looking through deeds, marriage certificates, etc. wherever public records are kept gives you some insight into their lives.
This summer I learned that my paternal great-great grandfather was a partner in a furniture making business. I knew he was a furniture maker because there are a few pieces in the family that he made, but I had envisioned it as a hobby. Now I know he did it for a living. Now when I look at a picture of Thomas Parrot Hu(gh)lett I see more than an old man with a beard. I see a grandparent who was a furniture craftsman.
Get started soon. Time's a wasting!
I have three aunts by marriage that are 83, 85 and 95. My mother is 81. All of them are still as sharp as ever and all live at home. Aunt Loraine still drives! She states boldly that she can "drive as good as I ever could."
I speak for all the family when I say we are so very thankful we have had them with us this long. I also painfully realize, given their ages, we may lose all of them close together. Each time we are with them, my sister Angela and I ask questions about their lives and write down their answers. We have learned so many interesting facts that would have been lost if we had not inquired.
I hosted a "cousin" dinner last year that included the aunts. Aunt Pauline and Mom were the only two that could be there, so I sat beside Aunt Pauline at the kitchen table and began my question and answer session with her. I began by asking her where was the first place she and Uncle Willie Mack lived. With that one question we gleaned a wealth of information.
A few times she had to back up or think for just a few seconds but she recalled each location in order. Her recollections also revealed little tidbits that happened while in a particular location. It also gave us a tiny glimpse into painful events . At times I could hardly write fast enough to get it down. If something wasn't clear to me, I asked her to explain so I could get all the facts correctly.
All her children were present that evening and we were all seated at or gathered around the table and in the kitchen. It was a precious time together. Later, I worked through my notes and wrote her "story". It is not her complete memoirs, of course, but it is a snapshot we can take out and recall a precious family member's life.
You can do it, too. Maybe you don't have a family member who is past 90 years old, but start where you can. If your grandparents have passed, then ask someone who knew them if they have any information. Even looking through deeds, marriage certificates, etc. wherever public records are kept gives you some insight into their lives.
This summer I learned that my paternal great-great grandfather was a partner in a furniture making business. I knew he was a furniture maker because there are a few pieces in the family that he made, but I had envisioned it as a hobby. Now I know he did it for a living. Now when I look at a picture of Thomas Parrot Hu(gh)lett I see more than an old man with a beard. I see a grandparent who was a furniture craftsman.
Get started soon. Time's a wasting!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Memoirs - Isn't that something old people write?
Think you can't write? You are wrong. Everyone has a story and since you have one, it's imperative you share it with those you love.
By blogging, I hope to inspire, uplift, and help you remember your story and encourage you to write it down. I'll even help you learn how.
That's what my friend, Beth Dotson-Brown did when I took a beginner writing course she offered in the community. All I wanted to do was write about what my childhood was like growing up on a farm in the 50's so that my grandchildren could get a vision of what I was telling them. Following Beth's instructions, I wanted to show them, not just tell them.
I share my stories (my memoirs) in our local paper in a column called Life Happens that I take turns writing with other members of the Grassroots Writers Group. Everywhere I go, someone almost always comes up to me and tells me they read my column and that I am speaking for them. I am asked, "how in the world can you remember all that stuff?" It just comes to me; I don't know where from but it "speaks" to me. I have concluded it is a gift I have been given, to not only share my story but to be able to tell "all" our stories. We really are all pretty much alike when we remove our outer wrappings the outside world sees.
So follow along with me as "I" take a look at "us" and share with the blogger world.
By blogging, I hope to inspire, uplift, and help you remember your story and encourage you to write it down. I'll even help you learn how.
That's what my friend, Beth Dotson-Brown did when I took a beginner writing course she offered in the community. All I wanted to do was write about what my childhood was like growing up on a farm in the 50's so that my grandchildren could get a vision of what I was telling them. Following Beth's instructions, I wanted to show them, not just tell them.
I share my stories (my memoirs) in our local paper in a column called Life Happens that I take turns writing with other members of the Grassroots Writers Group. Everywhere I go, someone almost always comes up to me and tells me they read my column and that I am speaking for them. I am asked, "how in the world can you remember all that stuff?" It just comes to me; I don't know where from but it "speaks" to me. I have concluded it is a gift I have been given, to not only share my story but to be able to tell "all" our stories. We really are all pretty much alike when we remove our outer wrappings the outside world sees.
So follow along with me as "I" take a look at "us" and share with the blogger world.
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