When I was a kid going to Lutheran school,we didn't celebrate Halloween. It was "Reformation" for us.
Every year we had to watch the same old movie about Martin Luther. Most of it I didn't understand at the time. But boy, when 3 o'clock came and my brothers and I got home...........on with the masks and out the door with the biggest shopping bags we could get our hands on. It was fun. We never got candy,except for on Christmas when the church ladies would make up goodie bags for us with chocolate stars and Brachs hard candies..ready for us after Christmas Eve service that was always the recreation of the Nativity. Oh such fond memories...but not now, it's only October. Halloween. Now I don't know about you, but there is always one house where everyone swears a witch lives. We had ours. She was just an old lady...but it was fun scaring the bageezus out of each other. It was always cold and wet and we froze on the way home...but oh so happy to be heading home with our bag of loot.
Luther..smuther.....we want candy.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
A treat
Heart Ache Blue
Oh I have to put this camera down and get some work done!
Here's my treat for you too........Have fun with Halloween today!
!
Oh I have to put this camera down and get some work done!
Here's my treat for you too........Have fun with Halloween today!
!
That's right!
Now Kid squirrel has been caught by my security camera (hehehe)
probably going to line his nest with spider webbing and gauze tape...which was wrapped
arpund that skull
Have camera..shoot
Nasty, nasty, nasty, that was yesterday. But I took my camera along and found beauty. I could really get into this. I hope you enjoy.
Friday, October 30, 2009
A remnant from my childhood. In fact, probably the only remnant...oh, I do have my original Dick and Jane book with my name in it.
On closer examination, one could interpret that this child saw every woman as a mother. Boy have things changed.
Well,people, I can honestly say I set my goals early and that I achieved them..almost...I had three children.
I just love this little scrap of paper. I wish I knew why I wrote it and where. I know my father saved it. I was somewhere in my 7th year of life. Mrs. Weber was my teacher. She was very strict and hardly smiled. I guess that is why I wouldn't have put "teacher" down as what I wanted to be...who would want to be like her?
My natural disposition was bright and sunny. In fact, the dreariness of that class was broken by our school janitor, who always called me Susie Sunshine. I loved that. I have lived up to it ever since. See how you can change a person's life. You never know how your words can make a difference in someone's life. But I also recall the deep sadness I felt when he was gone. One morning, it was just after Thanksgiving, the Principal came to our room and told us that Mr.? (How sad, I can't recall his name) would not be coming back because his entire family had been killed in a car accident over the holiday. I had to be Sunny without him. One of the first things I had to learn to put in a quiet place.
I also like that my father wrote my name and the year on the back. I miss him so much thinking about him now.
Reyna. That was my last name. Different from the rest of the kids in my predominently German Lutheran School. I could write a book about that very fact of seperation.
But the good thing was I had my identity early....Susie Sunshine.
I was pretty, smart, kind, and a good little Lutheran.
It served me well, until my brother died when I was 23 years old. The door shut. I stopped. I got through life,now I know, with a numbed and paralyzed growth.
So today when I look at my little scrap of me....I remember Susie Sunshine
and the janitor who named me this, and acknowledge the special grief I felt about losing him.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
One Foot In Front of the Other
I've been quiet for awhile. New path. I love paths, but I've said that before, haven't I?
The open mic the other night was a big disappointment. The featured author wasn't funny as expected, but rather a bit of a downer,dredging up all the crap of her life and forming it into poetry. That's not bad,mind you, but the room (by that I mean audience), was dead, dead, dead. Poor thing, she had very few to bounce off of. The lot of them were college students enticed to come to the open mic for extra credit. When you see them texting each other across the room...it's a deal breaker. I got a few laughs with my stories, no minor feat, I may add. But I ,too ,felt the deadness in the room. Dreadful thing. Oh well, it goes with the territory.
I do have a plot for my ghost story, but that's not my new path. I'm going to write a... book. I can't believe I'm going to do this. Such a risk. But like a friend of mine said...the universe is sending you a message, if you don't do it, it will go to someone else. And I can't have that.
All we creatives know that it happens in solitude. I have been writing it for quite awhile in my head...now time to hit the page. Writing is draining, literally... draining out of you. This will mean a withdrawal from many things that I love. I attempted to write a novel once... it's still unfinished in my computer. How will this be any different? I just know it will be. Am I fearful? No. Do I think I can do it? Yes. What form will it take? Not sure.
Winter is a time for a coming inside. I think it has arrived early.
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