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ALL HALLOWS EVE

"On Hallowe’en, the thing t’do is pretend that nuthin’ can frighten you ‘n if sumthin’ scares you ‘n you want to run, just let on like it’s Hallowe’en fun.”

Happy Hallow’een to all the ghosts, goblins‘n ghoulies where’er they may be...

I’ve been channel-surfing ‘n the telly is loaded with more ‘horror’ movies than I’ve ever seen but so far I haven’t found the one I’ve been looking for...that’d be Walt Disney’s ‘Legend of Sleepy Hollow’ with der Bingle as narrator...Washington Irvings short tale of Ichabod Crane ‘n the Headless Horseman...Disney coupled it with the adventures of Mr. Toad, an excerpt from The Wind in the Willows...

Of course, there’s no blood ‘n gore which makes it all the more suitable for children ‘n doddering old folk, both of whom are subject to strange ‘n fanciful dreams...’specially if you lace their evening milk with vicodin...

One ‘a these daze, I’m gonna have to watch the Tim Burton version...but without the vicodin...

Back in the Beattyville daze of my youth, there wuz a war goin’ on ‘n only little kidz got t’go trick or treatin’...’n we only went to a few homes where we got home made cookies or maybe fudge...lotza time just an apple but I recall it as fun..the bigger kidz didn’t do trick or treating...mainly they just did tricks...

generally nuthin’ too mean-spirited tho’ I seem to remember hearing about an overturned outhouse that co-incidentally had someone inside when it went over but that wudn’t in Beattyville...mostly, they soaped windows, threw shelled corn at homes ‘n cars (not a lot of cars on the road during WWII)...basically just a chance for teens to ‘hang in the darkened streets ‘n act up...that’s what they use’ta call it, y’know...acting up!

Things all changed in the ‘60’s...we got the kidz dressed in costume ‘n took ‘em ‘round the neighborhood collecting candy...as the years went on, people began driving their children from one neighborhood to another collecting pillowcase loads of candy...teens with cigarettes dangling wud show up at your door with their sacks held open...often they wudn’t say a word, not even ‘Stand ‘n deliver’...lot of bounty paid out over the years...

Not so much t’day...scary times, I guess...more organized events t’day ‘n earlier...more kid-oriented ‘n that’s okay by me...I’m getting too old for the sugar-high anyway...

“When black cats prowl ‘n pumpkins gleam, may luck be with you on Hallowe’en...”

EUPHEMISTICALLY SPEAKING....so to say ~ Sumtimes shouted, sumtimes muttered...

“Hellfire ‘n damnation, Boy!” Manuel W. Smith......

I heard those words a lot when I ‘uz a boy...mostly over simple things that I shudn’t a had a problem with back then...whether it wuz cutting the grass, hoeing the weeds ‘er maybe I just didn’t move fast enuff ~ “Hellfire ‘n damnation, Boy!”

Y’know, I knew at the time that he didn’t mean anything by it ‘n that he’d prob’ly heard the same words from John Sam hisownself back when he wuz a boy... (John Sam being my grandfather, a quiet, taciturn man that seldom raised his voice...he drank his coffee black out of a saucer ‘n so did I when I wuz 6 or 7 years old)

‘Course, back in those halycon daze, Beattyville boyz didn’t say words like that....what we used wuz ‘euphemisms’ and it’s doubtful if any of us would’a known what a body wuz talking about if they had said, ‘euphemism’..."Heckfire" we said...’n "Doggonnit!" ‘n "Dang" ‘n "Son of a gun" ~ words like that...we knew the real words they ackshully stood in for, we just didn’t know that they were called euphemisms...

Men (women, too) c’ud swear, some of ‘em like troopers...My Uncle Fred ‘n his brother, Lewie...didn’t bother with euphemisms but they were the exception rather than the rule...’Way back then, there wudn’t any such thing as ‘Take your child to work day’...that’s pretty much a modern invention...so we didn’t ackshully know how men talked at work but when they were home, around women ‘n children, most men didn’t swear...Heck, back in those daze, most men smoked but they did it outside ‘n almost no one kept licquor in the house...Men went t'the barn or the shed to share a little 'touch' when friends came t'call....

Dad wuz still saying ‘Hellfire’ when he wuz 90 years old ‘n got frustrated over sumthing...we’d sit on his little deck drinking beer ‘n looking at the Kentucky hills acros’t the river ‘n he’d tell stories about the horses he’d had ‘n the first car ‘n how he sent off to Frankfurt to get his first driver’s license...you didn’t need a license to drive back in those daze but he wanted one...cost him a quarter which wuz ackshully a pretty good chunk o’ money to spend on sumthing that you didn’t need...

When I wuz a boy, I found a quarter one day ~ “Heckfire!” I tho’t I wuz rich ‘n it went to my head...that quarter took me to the movies, bought me a soda pop, a large popcorn ‘n a candy bar...durn near enuff t’make a boy sick ~ dunno what all that ‘ud cost t’day but gotta be considerably more’n a quarter...

Ah well, times change...lot of people think that we’re making progress, evolving so to speak...I ain’t so sure of that...somewhere in the world in the next few minutes p’haps, give or take, the seven billionith person is gonna be born...I think Manuel Smith ‘ud prob’ly say, “Hellfire ‘n damnation, Boy! That’s a heck’uva lot of people.”

“The nicest thing about the future is that it always starts tomorrow.”

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SNOWBALL

I recently did a blog about the death of a chicken that neighbor Doug had named ‘Snowball’ ‘n which I described as a ‘Silkie’...I had an inquiry as to what the devil was a Silkie so here’s a pic...seems they’re originally from southeast Asia ‘n brought to Europe by that famed explorer Marco Polo who we all know from the teenage water game prevalent among the young harridans today....’course, that’s another story entirely ‘n nuthin’ to do with the reality of what happens to pets when their owners tire of them...

It seems that Silkies make good pets as far as chickens as pets go...they’re docile, not aggressive ‘n good brooders....

(as an aside, I tried brooding for awhile when I wuz younger but not being a young Brando, it didn’t really suit my personality)...

When turistas wax enthuiastic about the feral fowl of Ol Fair Oaks, I gene’lly reply that I prefer chicken fried 'n roasted is good also but the older larger birds should ideally be stewed with dumplings...but when I googled the Silkie, I found out that they have dark blue flesh which I find esthetically ....hmm, unappetizing...but that’s just me...

Anyways, while walking in the park t’other day, we came upon three buff-colored Silkies huddled t’gether ‘n rather obviously at a loss as to what they were s’pozed to be doing...Millyrose wuz so taken by them that she inquired of a friend of hers about a chicken coop...

fortunately, the coop wuz no longer available so I don’t have to deal with them but I wudn’t mind at all if someone came along, took pity on the three of them ‘n perpetrated a rescue...

“There is no reward or punishment in Nature; there is only consequence.”

“Inflation is when you pay fifteen dollars for the ten dollar haircut you use’ta get for five dollars when you had hair.”

A big WHOOP-DE-DOO for Apple Hill....it is still an absolutely luv’ly place to spend a lazy October afternoon...but OMG it is pricey...$15 pies, $5 a slice, $2 for a styrofoam cup of generic coffee....you’d think the place wuz Starbucks...not so many people on a Thursday afternoon which made for pleasant driving on those twisty little roads (hate it when I’m basically sight-seeing ‘n got forty-leven cars behind me),,,

Still, apple pie, apple turnovers with ice cream ‘n Millyrose scarfing down a slab of strawberry/rhubarb pie...rhubarb is kind’a like pun’kin far as I’m concerned...

it’s sumthin’ that ever’body else likes ‘n it looks good but it’s on the same list as eggplant ‘n broccoli...d’ya know that list? That’s the one where the food is better when it’s in disguise...ah well, life ain’t all p’nut butter ‘n jelly...

“There is always a lot t’be thankful for if you take the time to look. For example, I’m sitting here thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don’t hurt.”

Passing daze....

“In youth, the days are short ‘n the years are long; in old age, the years are short ‘n the days are long so I guess, if you live long enuff, things even out on their own.”

It’s been a nice long summer...still got lots ‘n lots of green leaves on the trees even tho’ there’s a lot of brown ones on the ground...don’t get the ‘fall color’ so much here in Paradise West but the liquidambers are turning red ‘n that’s always pretty...I didn’t look at the clock when I woke in the wee small hours last nite ‘n decided that we needed an extra blanket so I guess that winter is on the way...winter here in Ol Fair Oaks ain’t really winter in the same sense that folks in other areas of the country have winter...what we get mostly is rain ‘n fog ‘n overcast skies ‘n nitetime temps down in the low 30’s...once in a while maybe down in the high 20’s...it’s been knows to freeze around here tho’...I recall back in...oh, ‘86 or ‘87 thereabouts, the temp dipped into the teens....lotta damage to pipes, plants ‘n such...ah well, life comes at you whether you’re ready or not ‘n you might as well make the best of it cuz whatever you get is what you got...

Gonna head up to Apple Hill this afternoon...should be a pleasant trip...

enjoy the sunshine, eat a little pie, ‘n bring home a couple boxes of apples for more pies ‘n some of Millyrose’s apple butter...gotta say, I do like apple butter...comfort food for me going back to when we’d visit Grandma Smith...she made hers in a big kettle outside...

The ‘olden daze’ may have been lacking in a lot of stuff but they sure do make for good mem’ries....

“I’m thinkin’ that gettin’ old is a high price to pay for maturity but it also seems t’be the only available way to live a long life.”

“When you get old, you don’t need a lot but the little that you need, you need a lot...”

‘OLD MEN ‘N BEARDS’

Hair is a funny thing if you think on it, I mean, you either have it or you don’t or maybe you’re just somewhere inbetween...I’ve had hair most of my life ‘cept for a short time when I wuz naked all over ‘cuz of the chemotherapy (it wuz cold) ~ When I wuz a teenager in the USAF, my Drill Instructor insisted that I shave on a daily basis...when I tried to point out that as I had no facial hair of which to speak, it wuz an exercise in futility, he pointed out that it just wudn’t my choice ‘n I wuz to shave each ‘n every day or face the punishment of ‘his’ choice...it all made perfect sense at the time..

Anyways, from time to time, I grow bored with the daily shave ‘n I just don’t do it...’n that acts like a universal prompter for women ‘n gurlz ‘n the question, “Are you growing a beard?”

The truthful answer is that basically I have ceased stopping the beard from growing but that’s kind of a smart-alecky response (so I’ve been told)...

That’s usually followed up by “How long are you going to keep it?”...’n the truthful answer is I don’t know...one day I’ll feel like shaving ‘n I’ll shave...

In the meantime, have you noticed all the old men with grey beards n’ mustaches...I don’t know what it is about old men ‘n beards but there seems t’be a lot of ‘em ‘n a lot of ‘em with grey ponytails...whatever floats your boat, I guess...one of the interesting aspects of getting older is that the older you get the less importance you attach to what other people think of you...at least, I think that may be why old people dress the way they do...the ubiquitous ‘they’ claim that young dominates...in fashion, in television ‘n movies, in just about everything that comes along but maybe it just ain’t true...why else would you have so many people wearing sweats ‘n cargo pants....it’s old people that are the driving force behind comfortable clothing, clothing with pockets, ‘n sneakers...I don’t know what sneakers young people prefer...don’t care, for that matter but almost all the old(er) people are wearing New Balance sneakers...I s’pect the company’ud probably prefer a couple superstar athletes but in the meantime they’ll have to settle for having all the old people in the USA wearing their brand...

“A lot of young people complain about the old drivers ~ we don’t drive that bad, we’re the only ones that have the time t’do the speed limit.”

“We’re all only young once; that’s all society can stand.”

Stealing apples again....well, not perzackly stealing ‘em as my nabor wuz standin’ there watching....her only complaint wuz that I wuz taking all the low-hanging fruit ‘n she’d have to figger out how to get the higher ones...I pointed out that her garden tools wuz a ‘hull lot handier to her than they wuz to me ‘n that all she had to do wuz pull the branches down a little bit....’n of course, leave the ones at the top of the tree for the birds ‘n squirrels or whatever wild critters wanted ‘em bad enuff.....(I also promised her a piece of the pie I’m hoping Millyrose’ll make with the ones that I carried home but that’s the price you pay for stealing fruit in the daytime)

In the olden daze...those golden daze of yore...we did our liberating by the light of the moon whether it was apples or watermelons or whatever ‘n I ain’t gonna talk about the whatever cuz some people got long mem’ries ‘n age don’t mellow ever’one....I recall one kind’a moonish nite, a bunch of the boyz wuz whooping it up at Ye Olde LazyBoy Shoppe ‘n someone, don’t remember who, tho’t it’ud be a good idea to hop into a little ol car that just happened to belong to a solid gold member in good standing ‘n go out in the country to a place that had more’n a plentitude of apple trees....the plan wuz that we’d go gather enuff apples to make some apple wine...at least, that’s the way I remember it ‘n I’m the one tellin’ the tale...

Now as I recall, along the way, we ran into a hill so steep that the little ol car wudn’t climb it without we all got out ‘n walked while the solid gold member in good standing that owned the vehicle backed it up the hill....

As to the actual ‘gathering’ of the intended fruit for the purpose of making apple wine, let me just say that somehow by hook or by crook we managed to get a sufficiency of apples but we decided to take another way home...a more circuitous route as I now dimly recall...’n along the way, the vehicle that belonged to the solid gold member in good standing decided that it had gone far enuff for one evening ‘n we wuz forced to walk....

It was a longish way down that hill ‘n out’a that hollow to the winding two-lane blacktop that led back to the safety of South Shore ‘n sumtime in the wee hours of the morning, we got tired ‘n sat down in the roadway determined to wait for a kind-hearted person to pick us up ‘n save our weary feet ~ Now, it wuz one of those coolish fall nites with a little spotty fog here ‘n there ‘n the two-lane blacktop had kept it’s warmth from the long day ‘n being the hardy teenagers with the crystal clear consciences that we all posessed in abundance, we pretty

soon stretched ourselves out ‘n went to sleep...’course, we all came awake at the tortured scream of rubber tires on blacktop as our early morning savior hit his brakes in a panic stop when he saw a half-dozen bodies in his headlites...

And as a footnote, the apple wine wuz just plain nasty!

W.C. Fields always claimed that it was a woman who drove him to drink ‘n he always regretted that he never thanked her.