I had no idea there was once a Great New England Vampire Panic, during which people allowed the exhumation of the bodies of their relatives who had died of tuberculosis, and treated said bodies as if they were the living dead. Creep out! Love it.
Thoroughly enjoyed this online test to determine whether I would have been accused of witchcraft. Answer: Yes, the village menfolk totally would have roasted me in the flamety-flames. Definitely. (Thanks @feMOMhist via Twitter.)
Off to get the kiddos to their trick-or-treating, but first we must drive to one of those actual neighborhoods where everyone keeps the porch lights on. I have dibs on all of the Snickers, DH the Butterfingers. My kids, who are going as Spiderman and Spiderwoman, have been "practicing" the candy ask for several weeks now.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
My Ghost Story
I love a good ghost story. I'm not sure I per se believe in ghosts. Rather, I tend to think there is not yet a good explanation in our current science as to whatever it is that happens to the life energy (or soul or spirit) of a human as it transfers out of a person's body when they die. Our understandings of thermodynamics may begin to explain some of it. (Ok, so I'm not expressing these thoughts as clearly as I should. Having just typed that and read it back to myself, I think it even sounds a little ridiculous. But it's what I happen to feel, so I'm just going to go with it.)
Do I believe in ghosts? No, but there is certainly a part of me that really wants to, because I think the idea that ghosts are real makes for a much better story. And certainly, people all over the world have been seeing ghosts since antiquity. Maybe it is how we as humans have developed a strategy to cope with our fear of death: if we think death is not really the end, it is a little easier to accept.
While I have never actually seen a ghost, I'm pretty sure I witnessed a very specific communication between grandparent and grandchild from beyond the grave.
Here's my ghost story.
In the winter of 2004, I was at my dear friend S's house one night, a few weeks after her grandmother had died. She had had a 3-month-long battle with cancer. As a child, S had lived for a time with her grandmother, and they were quite close. Her grandmother knew her cancer was terminal, so she often talked frankly with S about her inevitable death and about her thoughts on the afterlife.
They were both fans of Sylvia Browne, a psychic who used to appear every Wednesday on The Montel Williams Show. Sylvia Browne offers a positive view of ghosts (they're nothing to be afraid of, they don't always know they're dead - so if you see one, tell them the current date, that they're dead, and that they should go to the light...). Browne insists that sometimes people who have died will send their living loved ones various signs in order to say goodbye, or perhaps to let them know they're ok on the other side. The "signs" might be things like birds that will appear at the surviving loved one's window; unusual birds, or a large number of different kinds of birds. Or a special song that has not been popular in ages that will randomly play on the radio. Or the sign could take the form of flickering lights, or brief lapses in the electricity in the home.
Or in S's case - it was all of the above.
Before her death, S's grandmother had promised her that she would send S the kinds of signs Sylvia Browne talked about to let S know she's ok, and that there is an afterlife. And boy, did she. At the funeral, all kinds of rare birds showed up and apparently put on quite a flying display. For weeks, anytime S did the dishes at the sink under her kitchen window, a little bird would show up and tap lightly on the glass.
There was this old Dolly Parton song S used to listen to with her grandmother in the early 80s, and that she hadn't heard in years. Suddenly it was playing on every radio station, and for no discernible reason.
And there was the night I went over to S's house to visit. S was telling me how much she missed her grandmother, but how she felt very comforted because she perceived her grandmother's presence all around her. She knew her grandmother was watching over her.
Eventually the conversation turned to S's uncle's wife, who apparently went into grandmother's house and helped herself to some of grandmother's jewelry without asking anyone in the family. S was visibly incensed.
"If my grandmother knew about it, she'd be rolling in her grave."
Then the lights in our room suddenly flickered. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.
S turned to me and laughed, "Well, I guess my Grandma knows and she's not having any of it!"
And the lights flickered again. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.
Again, at the exact moment. How on earth could this be?
Nothing happened with the lights in the other rooms, as we could clearly see, just the lights in the room we were sitting in.
I had goosebumps. To this day, I can't explain any of it. People I've told this story to have suggested it was an older home and there were some issues with the wiring. Nope. Their house was only 2 years old and here's the real kicker - S's husband is actually a journeyman electrician. There was nobody else home except me, S, and S's infant baby sound asleep upstairs.
Eventually, after about 2 months of getting sign after sign after sign, S told her grandmother out loud - "Grandma, I hear you. I've seen all the signs, and they were just like what you told me you were going to send, and so I know you're ok. Thank you. It's ok for you to move on now. I love you and you'll always be in my heart."
Then the signs stopped.
Do I believe in ghosts? No, but there is certainly a part of me that really wants to, because I think the idea that ghosts are real makes for a much better story. And certainly, people all over the world have been seeing ghosts since antiquity. Maybe it is how we as humans have developed a strategy to cope with our fear of death: if we think death is not really the end, it is a little easier to accept.
While I have never actually seen a ghost, I'm pretty sure I witnessed a very specific communication between grandparent and grandchild from beyond the grave.
Here's my ghost story.
In the winter of 2004, I was at my dear friend S's house one night, a few weeks after her grandmother had died. She had had a 3-month-long battle with cancer. As a child, S had lived for a time with her grandmother, and they were quite close. Her grandmother knew her cancer was terminal, so she often talked frankly with S about her inevitable death and about her thoughts on the afterlife.
They were both fans of Sylvia Browne, a psychic who used to appear every Wednesday on The Montel Williams Show. Sylvia Browne offers a positive view of ghosts (they're nothing to be afraid of, they don't always know they're dead - so if you see one, tell them the current date, that they're dead, and that they should go to the light...). Browne insists that sometimes people who have died will send their living loved ones various signs in order to say goodbye, or perhaps to let them know they're ok on the other side. The "signs" might be things like birds that will appear at the surviving loved one's window; unusual birds, or a large number of different kinds of birds. Or a special song that has not been popular in ages that will randomly play on the radio. Or the sign could take the form of flickering lights, or brief lapses in the electricity in the home.
Or in S's case - it was all of the above.
Before her death, S's grandmother had promised her that she would send S the kinds of signs Sylvia Browne talked about to let S know she's ok, and that there is an afterlife. And boy, did she. At the funeral, all kinds of rare birds showed up and apparently put on quite a flying display. For weeks, anytime S did the dishes at the sink under her kitchen window, a little bird would show up and tap lightly on the glass.
There was this old Dolly Parton song S used to listen to with her grandmother in the early 80s, and that she hadn't heard in years. Suddenly it was playing on every radio station, and for no discernible reason.
And there was the night I went over to S's house to visit. S was telling me how much she missed her grandmother, but how she felt very comforted because she perceived her grandmother's presence all around her. She knew her grandmother was watching over her.
Eventually the conversation turned to S's uncle's wife, who apparently went into grandmother's house and helped herself to some of grandmother's jewelry without asking anyone in the family. S was visibly incensed.
"If my grandmother knew about it, she'd be rolling in her grave."
Then the lights in our room suddenly flickered. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.
S turned to me and laughed, "Well, I guess my Grandma knows and she's not having any of it!"
And the lights flickered again. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.
Again, at the exact moment. How on earth could this be?
Nothing happened with the lights in the other rooms, as we could clearly see, just the lights in the room we were sitting in.
I had goosebumps. To this day, I can't explain any of it. People I've told this story to have suggested it was an older home and there were some issues with the wiring. Nope. Their house was only 2 years old and here's the real kicker - S's husband is actually a journeyman electrician. There was nobody else home except me, S, and S's infant baby sound asleep upstairs.
Eventually, after about 2 months of getting sign after sign after sign, S told her grandmother out loud - "Grandma, I hear you. I've seen all the signs, and they were just like what you told me you were going to send, and so I know you're ok. Thank you. It's ok for you to move on now. I love you and you'll always be in my heart."
Then the signs stopped.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Two October Birthdays, One October Anniversary
October is a very big month here at Casa hush. First comes DD's birthday, followed a week later by our wedding anniversary (7 Year Itch, anyone?), then DS's birthday, then Halloween.
If we had known then that we'd be so fertile around Christmastime, we probably would have re-thought the whole fall wedding idea. That said, I remain a huge fan of fall weddings. We got married in a large-ish Midwestern city, on one of those unseasonably warm, sunny October Saturdays. It was something like 70 degrees outside. We were such lucky bastards.
Every year on our anniversary we break out the photo album. This was the first year the kids really noticed the photos, and seemed to enjoy looking at them. I have to pat myself on the back a little bit: my wedding gown has aged really well. It was a form-fitting, lace-embellished gown, in the style of Monique Lhuillier. I think some of our guests thought it looked very conservative and maybe even a bit grannyish back in 2004, but it would fit right in with today's bridal fashions. Of all people, it was my mother who convinced me that it was, in fact, The Dress. She urged me not to go with the type of strapless, poufy skirt number that was all the rage circa 2001-2005. That was the first and only piece of fashion advice my mother ever gave me. And 7 years later, I still have to say: Hey thanks, mom. You were right.
So, DD is now 2 and DS is now 4. We no longer have any children in diapers, nor drinking from bottles, nor sleeping in cribs. Mostly we all sleep fine at night - if they wake up and get lonely, the kids just crawl into our ginormous bed. We seriously thought this time would never come. It is so good.
Halloween is the last of our Big 4 October events. We have 2 parties to go to this weekend, and on Monday we'll do some trick-or-treating in our friends' neighborhood. We live too far out in the country to ever get any trick-or-treaters ourselves. DS wants to dress up as either Iron Man or Captain America. Bummer. The days of my son in cute, cuddly Halloween attire are apparently over. DD is going as a bumble bee. I know it won't be long before she asks to be a frickin' princess. Gah. My friend who is Halloween-obsessed and also has a 4-year-old, was lamenting the fact that her daughter chose a "racy kitten" costume this year. Major bummer.
In other news, there is an older girl at DS's school who has a major crush on him. She keeps drawing him notes with stories and pictures depicting their future together. It is really too funny. The girl's mom approached me after class yesterday and joked about how we're going to be future in-laws. DS seems oblivious to it, and simply says "yeah, she's my friend." I think it's his utter nonchalance that keeps her coming back for more.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Halloweenies
Have you figured out what you, and/or your children, and/or your pets are going to be on Oct 31st? (Luckily, we only need to dress up the kids, as DH hates grown-up costume parties with some serious passion.) Just curious - are there any similar costume festivities in Italy, Denmark, or France?
My son first decided he wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween (but I figured he just might change his mind everyday). So I went off to the thrift store and just so happened to find the perfect pumpkin suit in a 4T (the exact size which my supertall 2.5 year old has been wearing for awhile now), plus a warm and cozy looking little ladybug outfit for our one year old daughter. I'm feeling like a winner.
I bring all of my loot home, feeling great about having the costumes figured out so far in advance, and all for only $5!! Then DH had to go and burst my bubble saying, "Oh hell no! My son is not wearing that thing!" Apparently, he was concerned about his masculinity. Um, he's not even 3 yet. Ok whatever. I suppose he is entitled to one fashion veto a year. But the trouble is, I want to keep DS looking little and cuddly for as long as I can. He's going to say he wants to be something more big boy and tough and violence-prone probably way too soon for me. And lord help me the day he finds out you can actually dress up as one of the characters from "Soy Glory."
We went back to the drawing board, and asked DS again what he wants to be for Halloween. (Actually he said "a pumpkin" like 4 more times, but DH pretended not to hear and I just smirked.)
"Um, I want to be a green frog and a super man." Where do they come up with this stuff? Pretty sure I won't be able to find that combination in a 4T at Tarjay or Wally World. And I can't sew. So I made another trip to the thrift store.
And guess what was on the rack right next to a size 4T (!!!) frog suit? A superman cape! Done and done, bitches. Like it was meant to be. I love me some thrifting like Tiger Woods loves Hooters waitresses.
My son first decided he wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween (but I figured he just might change his mind everyday). So I went off to the thrift store and just so happened to find the perfect pumpkin suit in a 4T (the exact size which my supertall 2.5 year old has been wearing for awhile now), plus a warm and cozy looking little ladybug outfit for our one year old daughter. I'm feeling like a winner.
I bring all of my loot home, feeling great about having the costumes figured out so far in advance, and all for only $5!! Then DH had to go and burst my bubble saying, "Oh hell no! My son is not wearing that thing!" Apparently, he was concerned about his masculinity. Um, he's not even 3 yet. Ok whatever. I suppose he is entitled to one fashion veto a year. But the trouble is, I want to keep DS looking little and cuddly for as long as I can. He's going to say he wants to be something more big boy and tough and violence-prone probably way too soon for me. And lord help me the day he finds out you can actually dress up as one of the characters from "Soy Glory."
We went back to the drawing board, and asked DS again what he wants to be for Halloween. (Actually he said "a pumpkin" like 4 more times, but DH pretended not to hear and I just smirked.)
"Um, I want to be a green frog and a super man." Where do they come up with this stuff? Pretty sure I won't be able to find that combination in a 4T at Tarjay or Wally World. And I can't sew. So I made another trip to the thrift store.
And guess what was on the rack right next to a size 4T (!!!) frog suit? A superman cape! Done and done, bitches. Like it was meant to be. I love me some thrifting like Tiger Woods loves Hooters waitresses.
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