Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts

Saturday, October 7, 2023

The Origins of Halloween by Eileen O'Finlan

NEW RELEASE! 




In my new historical novel, The Folklorist, main character, Charlotte Lajoie, puts together an exhibit on the history and evolution of Halloween for the New England Folklife Museum where she works. To accurately describe the exhibit, I had to do research on the subject. For this I relied heavily on a wonderful book by Halloween expert Lisa Morton called Trick or Treat: A History of Halloween.

I could not possibly relate all I learned in one blog post, so I will just offer an overview of the origins of the Halloween. 

As many people know, the holiday we celebrate on October 31st had its beginnings in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which means "summer's end." A Druid religious holiday, it was a three-day festival celebrating the reaping of an abundant harvest and the belief that souls journeyed to the other world, which they called Tir na tSamhraidh (Land of Summer) at this time. They believed that the veil between this world and that one was very thin at Samhain, allowing the dead to return to the living, and creatures called sidh (fairies) to cross to our side. On Samhain, a gathering was held that featured feasting, sports, repayment of debts, and legal trials, followed in some cases, by executions. Story-telling featured prominently at the festival, most stories having an eerie, supernatural element to them. Fortune-telling was also a favored element of Samhain.

Interestingly, by the 7th century, when the Celtic lands were Christianized, Samhain didn't totally disappear. It was transformed, yet it remained a religious holiday. By the 8th century, Pope Gregory III moved the feast of All Saints to November 1st, and 100 years later Pope Gregory IV declared it a universal Church holiday. Because "hallow" comes from the Old English word "halga", meaning holy, the night before All Saints Day became All Hallows' Eve, eventually morphing into Hallowe'en and finally Halloween.

Like Samhain, it was a three-day celebration consisting of All Hallows' Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day. Though the Church purposely supplanted Samhain with these three days, the Celts were unwilling to entirely give up their ancient roots. They celebrated with traditional foods reminiscent of those used for the ancient festival and retained the mix of joyful celebration and somber contemplation of death.

By 1350 the Black Death had killed 60% of Europe's population. Popular culture changed along with this calamity bringing about a morbid fascination and obsession with death. The invention of the printing press allowed for the dissemination of artwork. Especially popular was an image known as the Danse Macabre which featured skeletons and Grim Reapers. These images soon became incorporated into the All Hallows' Eve festival especially since the belief that the dead cross over at this time had not left the Celtic lands. 


With the tens of thousands of women executed for witchcraft in the 1480s,  another Halloween icon arose - the witch. Suspected witches were often accused of causing or spreading the Plague and were believed to have a close association and sometimes a sexual relationship with devil. They soon became incorporated into the holiday as well. The traditional  image of the witch with a broom, cauldron, and cat, all symbols of female housekeeping, began to appear at this time.



It was in the mid-19th century that Halloween finally made its way to America along with Irish and Scottish immigrants.  As the newly emerging middle-class tried to imitate the British, they became fascinated with Queen Victoria's 1869 Halloween visit to Balmoral Castle in Scotland reported on in American newspapers. If the queen could celebrate Halloween, so could they!

By the early 20th century, Halloween was becoming established in America, though it was still very much an adult affair. That's not to say kids had no part in it. Children's Halloween parties became popular by the by the 1920s. On the downside, teen boys became so enamored of Halloween pranks that they grew in intensity and became so out of control that by the 1930s Halloween was nearly outlawed.

Civic organizations saved the day by offering parties, parades, costuming, carnivals, and contests to supplant the pranking. Handbooks, popular from 1915 to 1950 were written with instructions on how to celebrate the holiday. In the 1930s, neighbors pooled resources to create "house-to-house parties" in which groups of kids were taken from one house to the next, each house hosting a different theme - the precursor to trick-or-treating.

 


Finally, Halloween in America as we know it today came into its own shortly after World War II with the development of suburban neighborhoods and the ability to safely trick-or-treat for candy.

So, as you celebrate Halloween this year, remember you are taking part in a holiday with a long, varied, and fascinating history! 



 

Monday, January 9, 2023

On Finishing Manuscripts by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page


Exhausted and overcome by Christmas and another completed manuscript, I have naught the energy to write much more this month. So I shall give you fine readers this: a poem on finishing manuscripts. Enjoy! 

Twas the night before New Years, 

And all in the house,

A mother was writing

and trying to rouse

her creations! 

Of romance! and fear! and conclusions, 

but kiddos indulged with sugar lllusions

won't sleep. And now it is half past the hour, 

and mother, up late, is starting to sour,

and so as the hen scratch digs wounds on the page, 

she worries her ire is starting to rage, 

but despite all her kids and her spouse and chores, 

she finishes early, the manuscript soars!

from 'in progress' to 'finished'

my, what a delight, 

but now everyone's sleeping

she's up past midnight.

 So the New Year is gone, 

and the fireworks done, 

and now all she has left 

is to edit...

No fun. 

Hope everyone had a Happy New Year! :) 

Friday, December 9, 2022

Leave It to Santa to Take Credit for Everything Us Moms Do by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page


      It is December, which for most, is the month of holiday cheer, presents, candy canes and Santa Claus, but for me its the inevitable month of writer's block. Nanowrimo--which for those of you that don't know is abbreviated for National November Writing Month (I think...)--- is the month where we write a bunch of words as fast as we can, with the ultimate goal of acheiving 50k words.


So 50k. It's a goal I used to find feasible, but after having spawn, realized it was way too &5^$ing crazy for me to ever accomplish now. SO I aimed for 10K and hit the mark. Now it's December, and I feel like a deflated bag of goo, chock full of little hairs, rocks and whatever else you may find stuck to the carpet. 


Me.

Now how am I supposed to write when there is Christmas to think about? Not to mention that I used up all my good ideas in an effort to get my draft done (which it isn't, by the way). I figure I have about 10k more words to go, but all I want is a good hoodie, some wine and true crime shows. 

Merry Christmas! Next up on Cold Case Files...

And you know... It used to be that if you finished Nano, you got a sticker. Now they don't give them out (at least where I am) so I can't even do it for the bragging rights! Not to mention that they changed the website and I can't even see my past achievements... you know... the days when I WAS able to write 50k in one month. 


So I guess I'll just keep writing and figure it out later. Afterall, that's what I told y'all to do when you get a case of writer's block. Wouldn't make any sense for me to tell others to keep on truckin' right? 

Ughh... I hope Santa brings me a nap...



Sunday, April 10, 2022

Easter by Barbara Baldwin

Find all my books at www.bookswelove.com

Easter

Did I miss it?

Daylight savings time has started. And the spring equinox occurred back in March. What happened to Easter?

In the United States, our holidays seem to fall in two ways. First, we have those that fall on the same numeric day every year – January 1, February 14, July 4, and December 25, among others. Then we have those holidays that fall on the same day of the month – Mother’s Day is the second Sunday in May and Father’s day is on the third Sunday of June; Indigenous People’s Day and Labor day on the first Monday of their respective months; Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November. Even USA elections are set on the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November.

But Easter can vary every year as much as a month, coming as early as March 22 or as late as April 25 because it is set according to the moon. Specifically, Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday following the full Moon that occurs on or just after the spring equinox.


And if that isn’t enough to confuse you, take a look at Easter treats. Valentine’s Day is all about chocolate. Christmas is fondly highlighted not only with candy canes but with favorite baked goods. But here comes the Easter Bunny with hard boiled eggs, jelly bean eggs, speckled “bird” eggs, chocolate covered marshmallow eggs, peanut butter eggs, Cadbury™ eggs and hard shell cream eggs. EGGS, EGGS, EGGS! And bunnies don’t even lay eggs, so where did that come from? According to some sources, the Easter bunny first arrived in America in the 1700s with German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania and transported their tradition of an egg-laying hare called “Osterhase” or “Oschter Haws.” Their children made nests in which this creature could lay its colored eggs. Baskets began to be used later in place of nests. The egg, an ancient symbol of new life, has often been associated with pagan festivals celebrating spring.


However you celebrate Easter, I hope it is joyous and full of sunshine and happiness. And in case you don’t care for all the candy that comes along with the holiday (as if), fill your Easter basket with some good books. They’re fulfilling but have no calories!

Barbara Baldwin

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

Amazon.com: Barbara Baldwin: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

 

 

 




 

Friday, April 8, 2022

Holidays by J. S. Marlo

 

 

 

Seasoned Hearts
"Love & Sacrifice #1"
is now available  
click here

 

 
The Red Quilt
"a sweet & uplifting holiday story"
click here




I started a new series titled Fifteen Shades. The series consists of holiday tales inspired by colours. The first book The Red Quilt was released in December 2021. The Red Quilt takes place at Christmas and features fifteen shades of red.


I started the second book. It is supposed to take place during Canadian thanksgiving and feature fifteen shades of blue. Now, in the last few weeks, I’ve been rethinking the setting, so I’ve been looking at other holidays celebrated in my home country.


Valentine’s Day (St. Valentine’s Day):

 

Valentine’s Day celebrates romantic love, friendship, and admiration. It is celebrated on 14 February in over 28 countries. In the Philippines, 14 February is the most common wedding anniversary day.

 

St. Patrick’s Day (The Feast of St. Patrick):

 

St. Patrick’s Day is a cultural and religious holiday celebrated on 17 March, the traditional death date of Saint Patrick, the foremost patron saint of Ireland. It is celebrated in more than 50 countries.

 

Easter:

 

Easter is both a pagan and a religious holiday. It is referred to a as a moveable feast. Its date varies according to the calendar originally used (Gregorian vs Julian) and the day of the last full moon (either astronomical or Julian). In Western countries, it can fall on any Sunday between 22 March and 25 April, but in some Eastern parts of the world, it can fall on any Sunday between 4 April and May 8. Around 95 countries celebrate Easter, but traditions vary by countries.

 

Canada Day:

 

Canada Day is celebrated on 1 July.

 

Thanksgiving:

 

Thanksgiving celebrates the harvest and blessings of the past year. There are roughly 17 countries that celebrate their own version of
Thanksgiving. The date and traditions varies by countries. In Canada, it is celebrated on the second Monday of October, and in the United States, it is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November.

 

Halloween:

 

Halloween is a combination of pagan and religious rituals, and is believed to be one of the oldest celebrations in the world. It is celebrated toward the end of October/beginning of November (mostly on 31 October and 2 November) in around 40 countries.

 

Remembrance Day:

 

Remembrance Day is a memorial day observed on 11 November throughout the British Commonwealth since the end of WW1. It is also known as Armistice Day or Poppy Day. The day is also marked by war remembrances in many non-Commonwealth countries.

 

Every year since 1919, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, we observe a moment of silence to mark the sacrifice of the many who have fallen in the service of their country, and to acknowledge the courage of those who still serve.


Christmas:

 

Christmas is both a sacred religious holiday and a worldwide cultural and commercial phenomenon. More than two billion people in over 160 countries celebrated Christmas. It is the most celebrated holiday in the world, but the day (see map) and the traditions associated with this holiday vary by countries.

 

New Year:

 

The New Year celebration is a global event with different types of celebration. The Pacific Islands of Tonga, Samoa, Kiribati were the first to welcome 1 January 2022 while Baker and Howland Islands were the last.

 

Happy Spring! Happy Easter! Stay safe!

JS

 



 
 

Friday, January 7, 2022

Happy New Year! by Eileen O'Finlan

 


I'm sometimes asked why there is no mention of Christmas in either Kelegeen or Erin's Children. The answer is simple. In Kelegeen the characters are too busy trying not to starve to death during Ireland's Great Hunger to celebrate Christmas and in Erin's Children which is set in Massachusetts, the holiday wasn't much celebrated. While the time period for Erin's Children, the 1850s, saw the establishment of Christmas as a holiday in Massachusetts (in 1856) it would still be a while before it got much real attention. Thanksgiving was the really big holiday at the time (you'll find three of them in Erin's Children!) along with George Washington's birthday and the 4th of July. New Year's was also celebrated though not with the same fanfare we associate with the holiday today.

Before 1752 New Years was celebrated on March 25th, the date when the new year started according to the Julian calendar. In colonial times young ladies prepared bowls of wassail and went "wassailing." The word comes from Middle English and means "health to you." The drink consisted of mulled ale or cider and sugar, ginger, cinnamon, and other spices and little bits of toast floating on top. It was also customary to give small gifts on New Years. In the 18th century these gifts were usually oranges decorated with ribbon and spiked with cloves. By the 19th century people began exchanging other gifts, though they were still just small tokens. 

In my current work-in-progress, sixteen year old Jerusha Kendall is given a diary for New Years in 1838. What she writes in it throughout the year piques the interest of Charlotte Lajoie, a folklorist and one of Jerusha's descendants, who uses it to uncover a long-hidden family secret. Thank goodness for New Years presents.

                                     

Friday, December 3, 2021

Happy National Peppermint Latte Day! ... by Diane Bator

 

 Happy National Peppermint Latte Day!


Yes, it's for real! (https://web-holidays.com/blog/2018/11/04/national-peppermint-latte-day/) 
Did you know that there is a holiday for nearly every day of the year? I discovered that a couple years ago when one of my co-workers decided it would be fun to have something to celebrate every day. I never really put much thought into that until this year.

The world has been a tumultuous place the past 2 years. We've been locked up, had shots we never thought we'd need, and discovered sources of anxiety we never thought we'd have. Truly, who would've thought we'd be afraid to be in the same room as other people?

When I was asked to write a blog for the holidays, my first thought was Bah-humbug. What's there to celebrate? Not even the characters in the Christmas book I'm working on seemed concerned about the holiday season so why should I?

Then I discovered that anything can be a source of celebration.


Even Peppermint Lattes.

So, how does this relate to writing? Procrastination for one. I found digging into what December celebrations made the calendar a pretty steep rabbit hole to fall into. Along the path, I also found inspiration in the form of Peppermint Latte Day which resulted in two of my characters discussing murder over Christmas cookies and a latte in my newest Sugarwood Mystery, Dead Man's Doll, coming in September 2022:

Sugarwood, Ontario was known for two things:  maple syrup and our Christmas tree lighting festival that always went off with a variety of creative challenges but never failed to impress. I just hoped we didn’t end up finding a body on a bench like we had during the town’s Halloween bash. Since we had four days to go, I’d taken to crossing my fingers whenever I thought about it.

“Do you think we have enough decorations?” Merilee Rutherford, my partner both in Stitch’n’Time and crime solving, had circled November twenty-seven with a fat, red marker weeks ago.

I gazed around our craft shop. Large shiny balls hung from the ceiling, strands of garland draped over the top of every cupboard and cabinet, and a four-foot tree glistened in the front window. We’d spent hours wrapping empty boxes to pile underneath and added a few needlepoint kits, fabric swatches, and sewing kits to attract customers.

I grinned. “I think Santa would feel right at home in our workshop. All that’s missing are the milk and cookies.”

Drake, my Golden Retriever-slash-Husky raised his head.

“How about a peppermint latte and cookies,” Merilee asked. “I could run up to the bakery and grab lunch complete with dessert.”

“Santa’s going to have to bring me a whole new wardrobe at this rate.” I tucked a thumb inside the waistband of my pants. They were getting snug already and it wasn’t even December. I started to tell her to hold the latte. No way was I giving up cookies before Christmas. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.

While Merilee was gone, Drake returned his attention to the heat vent while I finished hanging one last string of lights around the inside of the front window swaying to the soft Christmas music we’d already started to play.

Outside the gloom of the day was brightened by the swirling blue and red lights from a passing police car. Since there was no way anyone could be speeding on the roads given the current conditions, I had to assume the police were on their way to an accident.

Drake got up to amble toward the door.

“Do you need to go out?” I asked.

Rather than paw at the glass, he sat and yawned.

“Good to know it’s not an emergency.”

Less than a minute later, Merilee bustled through the front door carrying a cardboard tray and a paper bag. Drake stood as a string of drool seeped from the corner of his mouth.

I laughed. “You smelled cookies. What a surprise."  

And who says a character has to celebrate a traditional holiday? 


In the writing world we do this exercise every November called Nanowrimo. A short way of saying National Novel Writing Month. One of those events that is so crazy it requires an entire month rather than a day. What normal person would set a goal to write 50,000 words in 30 days? Of course, most writers celebrate Nanowrimo starting December 1st when we hibernate for about three days to catch up on sleep and ease the cramps from our fingers!

Here's a fun thing to do. Go to https://web-holidays.com/ , find your birthdate, and see what else you can celebrate along with it. Mine is National Cavier Day among others. 

If you do check out the daily list and run out of favorite things to celebrate in December, please keep in mind this is also National Eggnog and National Fruitcake Month. 

Cheers!

Diane







Tuesday, September 14, 2021

Finding a story...by Sheila Claydon



I'm often asked about writing a book. Do I plan it chapter by chapter? How do I develop my characters? Do I ever use real people? Do I ever suffer from writers block? Do I suffer from deadline stress? Yet strangely, the one thing I am rarely asked is what triggers a story? Yet to me that is the most interesting part of writing.

I can pinpoint the taking off point for every story I write, and it can sometimes be something that happened months or even years before that has been quietly sitting and waiting for its chance to shine. At other times it is almost instant. Take Reluctant Date for example. It is set mainly in an (anonymised) place where I had such a wonderful holiday that much of its geography and ambience is lifted directly from that experience. It didn't take me long to decide to find a heroine either. She more or less leapt at me from a magazine article about dating websites. I find that once I am focused on a story everything else seems to fall into place. I'm not sure if it's because I am looking or whether the characters are just out there waiting until I decide to tell their story!!

In Kissing Maggie Silver it was the photo of an interesting looking girl in an advertisement that started it. That, and yet another holiday where a countryside ranger took us on a trek. I just put them together.  Whereas  Mending Jodie's Heart was triggered by a house, a horse, and a bridle path!

As they say, every picture tells a story. And I can remember why I wrote every single one of my books just by looking at the cover. A sepia photo for Remembering Rose, a cruise from NewZealand to Australia for Cabin Fever, a magazine article for Finding Bella Blue, and so on and so on. 

Now, however, it is time to write a new book but one that is part of a trilogy, a follow-on from Remembering Rose and Loving Ellen. This makes it a little more difficult as part of the story is already there so whatever my trigger is, it has to fit with the previous two books. And that's where old ideas come in. The ones I've had on the back burner waiting until I'm ready. And this time the trigger is another photo, but not of a person. It is of an old and derelict watermill. 


The mill is at least 600 years old. I came upon it unexpectedly a few years ago when I was walking my dog in woodland, and I was so intrigued by the fact that none of the local people seemed to know anything about its history, that I took several photos and stored them away for future use. And now seems to be the right time for it to take its place in my next book. Those who have read the first two books in the trilogy will already know quite a lot about the village of Mapleby. What they won't know, however, is how times are changing for the villagers, and the old mill has quite a lot to do with that.

It's half written. It hasn't got a title yet, and it won't be published until June next year, but without the old mill it might not have happened at all. So here's to story triggers and to the writers who recognise them and store them until the time is right. In the meantime, I have to get back to my writing.




Wednesday, December 9, 2020

Happy Holidays



See below to get this holiday story for free! 

Ah, December is here and even with all the craziness in the world, I hope you have the chance to enjoy the season. Several years ago, I wrote a “short-short story” about the season and thought I would share a few parts with you. I’m sure some of you can relate to what I have experienced over the years. 

DECORATING: We found the box of lights at the bottom of everything because we had moved last summer and when we got them out, they were all tangled up and half of them didn’t even work. After buying new lights and a new ladder because ours was run over by the moving truck, we strung the lights along the house, around the shrubs, in the trees and down the driveway. Only to realize we needed five extension cords just to reach the closest outlet. 

SHOPPING: I drove around for over fifteen minutes trying to find a parking place at the mall and when I finally spied one, a little red Beetle whipped into it before I could round the corner. After taking a whole day off to go Christmas shopping, things that were on the sale flyer weren’t in the store and what I had put on layaway three months ago was now on sale for half price. And I couldn’t find the right size or the right color or something that matched the rest of what I had bought and if I couldn’t buy five of the same thing then I might as well not buy any because everyone had to have one or there would be crying. 

COOKIE MAKING: It was time to bake and my daughter made the frosting and decided that army green was an appropriate Christmas color, so Santa, the reindeer and all the snowmen joined the service that year. I wanted to make trays for work and my husband’s office and for our friends so I had to bake for several days, hiding everything on the shelf in the office closet because no one ever goes in there. But they did. 

SNOW: All the family was here to celebrate and just in time because it started to snow and the roads were closed. The kids all wanted to go sledding and build snowmen. We finally got everyone bundled up in snowsuits and boots and mittens and caps and then the littlest one said he had to go potty and so we had to undo the caps and mittens and boots and snowsuits. Much later, the cold, red noses were wiped and the hands warmed and cocoa drank and cookies eaten. All the cousins played downstairs and nobody worried when they argued because all we had to say was, “If you’re not good, Santa won’t come and leave you any presents.” 

CHRISTMAS EVE: The carolers are singing and we go out and join them before going to midnight service to hear the wonderful story about the birth of Christ. And when we come home, all the presents are wrapped and under the tree and the stockings are hung and the kids are too excited to go to sleep, but all we have to say is, “If you don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come and leave you any presents.” Quiet descends and we sit and watch the lights wink on the tree and hope that on Christmas Day all the toys make noise and all the baby dolls bawl; that the bike and trike bells ring and the train whistle blows and the race cars speed around the track just like the instructions said they would. And on Christmas day when everything has been opened and played with and tried on, we sigh in relief that it all works and all fits and is in all the favorite colors. And now we only have three hundred sixty-four shopping days until we get to do it all over again. 

If you enjoy Christmas stories, Books We Love is giving away a free Christmas novel every week until December 25. One of my favorites, “Always Believe” is available FREE right now so visit their website at https://bookswelove.net and scroll down to the Christmas Gift to our Readers.





Another of my holiday stories, “If Wishes were Magic” is a contemporary romance about making wishes come true and is available in print or ebook format at Books We Love. 

Wishing you Happy Holidays,
Barb Baldwin 
http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin 
https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

Thursday, December 19, 2019

It's the Most Stressful Time of the Year by Stuart R. West

Warm your holidays up with some chills!

Sing with me, everyone! Huzzah! The holidays are nearly over!

No more fruitcakes (no, no, not the food...that ONE uncle. Yeah, you know which one I'm talking about). Say goodbye to the wrasslin' wranglers of the store aisles, the ones who give soccer players a run for their money. So long to false smiles when you open a box of tighty-whities (I killed the snickers when I threatened to model them). And no more uncomfortable hugs. Especially uncomfortable hugs.

I think I'm the only one who has a problem knowing when to hug. Hugging protocol isn't in my armory. In my family, if you accidentally touch someone, the knee-jerk reaction is to jump like an Olympic kangaroo. Yet, there's my wife's family, the huggin'-est family around. No problem with that, as I love 'em all, truly I do. I think it's nice, actually. So I studied and watched them. Maybe it's an Oklahoma thing, I naively thought.  When the Fed Ex man rang the doorbell, I put what I'd learned into play, welcoming him with a big ol' bear hug.

Well, turns out I still have a bit more to learn.

Anyway, Christmas time. I used to look forward to the holiday. Not so much anymore. Call me a curmudgeon or a realist, I'm okay with both.

Several years back, our Christmas was different in many ways. For instance, I only heard the cloying "Santa Baby" song whenever we went shopping. Usually it's a mainstay that digs into your head like a dentist's drill. But on Christmas day, the song of choice seemed to be "Let It Snow,"  a song I loath because the sentiment is treasured only by children and drunk television weathermen. Obviously the singer lives in Florida.

This particular holiday was filled with more than its fair share of excitement, not the particularly good, cozy gather-around-the-fireplace type, either.

A niece I adore decided to get married on December 21st in Midwest Kansas, home of winter blizzards. So, that Saturday morning at 6:30 a.m. (my wife's a hard-charger), we set off for Hays, attempting to stay one step ahead of "Storm (I think they named it) Dumbledore." You know, the storm that blew the socks off everyone in the States (Canada, I'm looking at you!).

We got there okay, albeit bleary-eyed, delirious, and pumped up on caffeine and sugar. My daughter woke up in the back seat, yawned, and with a happily contented tone said, "Wow, that trip wasn't so bad." Even though she was 21 at the time, I I still grounded her for life.

BOOM! Flat tire after lunch. 22 degrees outside. (Merry Christmas, everybody!) Freezing, yet determined to show my masculine side, I changed the tire in, say, fifty-five minutes. Much cursing ensued. Icing on the cake? My wife ("accidentally," she says) kicked me in the nose. Grease-stained, sniffing, and broken-nosed, we're just in time for wedding pictures.

The next morning (6:30 a.m. again) I'm dreary and suffering a bad back from the lousy hotel bed. And the ice machine, birthing baby cubes right outside our door, kept us up all night. (Happy Horror-days!) But I pulled up my big-boy britches 'cause it was time to go to Oklahoma to celebrate Christmas with my wife's family. 

At one stretch, the highway was covered with huge chunks and stalactites of snow. It felt like we were four-wheeling (it's a Midwest thing, folks, don't worry about it). And we nearly got stuck in the parking lot of a "Pilot" store getting gas.

And these stores...you know, I never knew there was such a variety of "quick in and out stores." I think we visited them all across the Midwest. There was the aforementioned "Pilot," the downtrodden "Stop-Shop (home of the world's filthiest bathrooms)," numerous "Kum-n-Go's (tee-hee)," and, of course, my personal new favorite discovery, "The Wood Shed." I'm telling you, "The Wood Shed" is Nirvana. It's what the Stuckey's of my childhood used to be. Their logo is great, a Beaver or something glaring at you with googly eyes. When you open the door--just like a carnival funhouse--a ginormous fan blasts you with a ghostly groan and a seriously threatening whirlwind of heat. (While I was waiting for my wife, I amused myself by watching newcomers freak out when they crossed the Barrier of the Damned.)  After you survive tornado alley, a giant blow-up snowman with an evil grin looms over you! Fantastic! And the bathrooms...the glorious, wondrous, old-fashioned, smelly bathrooms with antiquated machines boasting of  mysterious treasures such as "Big Wally" and other enticing sundries. Plus there was a plethora of crap for tourists to get suckered into. Gave me Christmas chills.

Then the trip turned nightmarish. My wife ran over a red squirrel in the highway. His eyes still haunt me. Took me seconds to shake it...

Had a great time with my wife's family. But I was sleep-deprived and loopy the whole time (kinda' like how I was during college). I found myself drifting off on many occasions--taking a Scrooge-like trippy side-trip--looking down on the proceedings as if I'd died or something. Maybe I did for a minute. With a turkey leg in my mouth.

Finally...it was over! And this Christmas shall to come to pass.

Merry Christmas everyone and God help us one and all!

In fact, you know what I think? I think Peculiar County would look mighty nice under a Christmas Tree this year... 
Click For Thrills, Chills, Mystery, Nostalgia, Romance, and Laughs

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

The Poultry Conundrum by Stuart R. West

Visit mysterious, alluring, scenic, and dangerous Peculiar County! Just a click away...
I'm from Kansas and I'm apparently quite a dumb Kansan at that.

You'd think I'd know the distinction between a turkey and a chicken since I live in the Midwest. You'd be wrong. I mean, okay, everything I taste is formulated around the ground zero of chicken. It's like six degrees of Kevin Bacon, minus the actor, minus the bacon, add the chicken. Very complex equation (but if you add a side of bacon in again, you might have something. Hold the Kevin.).

So, over the holidays, my wife brings home a turkey, cooks it up. Tastes great. I like turkey "drumsticks." Anyway, I've eaten two of the drumsticks outta' the refrigerator and then I find another. And yet another. From the same turkey!  THE SAME TURKEY, YOU GUYS! Four drumsticks!

What?

Did this turkey grow up by a chemical waste plant or something?
I asked my wife why our turkey has four legs. After much eye-rolling, pantomiming and frustration from her, I sorta' intuited the answer.

I guess the turkey is the stronger of our fowl brethren with buffed-up, muscular upper arms that I mistook for bonus drumsticks. And it gets even stranger. The turkey apparently has many more bones in its legs than chickens do. New one on me! Why in the world would a turkey have more bones in its legs then a chicken? Do they bully the barnyard? Are they brutal fowls with thighs of thunder? Femurs of fury?

Edible nature sure can be kooky.

No matter what you celebrate or where you live, happy holidays everyone!
How about stuffing some Banana Hammock into your stocking?


Friday, December 7, 2018

Decorating with Dad by Eileen O'Finlan






This Christmas will mark the twenty-second time we’ve celebrated the holiday since my dad passed away at the age of sixty-six.  My family is big into holidays.  When I was a kid the house was decorated for every one of them, even the minor ones.  Christmas, though, was the ultimate.  No one got more into the decorating than my dad.  He turned our home into Christmas Land, inside and out.

Christmas decorating got underway once we’d returned from Thanksgiving weekend at my grandparents’ home in Bennington, Vermont.  Dad was in a festive mood after several days of feasting and visiting with a houseful of relatives.

First the living room had to be rearranged.  Over the years Dad, an engineer by trade, developed a strategy for furniture placement.  One layout was for Christmas, the other for the rest of the year.  It wasn’t just the furniture, either.  Knick-knacks and whatnots all over the house exchanged living quarters with the Christmas decorations boxed and stored in the basement.

Once the room was rearranged, the tree set securely in its stand and watered (until we switched to artificial trees), the most difficult and least fun part began - stringing the lights and garland.  Extra bulbs were kept on hand since if one went out they all went out. That meant testing every bulb on the string until the culprit was found, replacing it, and hoping that one worked.  Heaven help us if more than one bulb went out at the same time.  Dad wasn’t much for swearing, but those bulbs were almost guaranteed to elicit a few words more colorful than the lights. 

My sister, Cindy, and I endured the interminable wait in order to pounce the moment Dad finished.  It was our job to help hang the tinsel and ornaments.  We delighted at seeing these old friends that had been out-of-sight, out-of-mind for a year, especially the ones that hung on the trees of my mom’s childhood.  My favorite was a set of three delicate, sparkly silver shoes each with a tiny child inside representing Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.  Mom and Dad joined in the tree trimming while we all sang along with the Christmas albums on the record player.



Once the tree was completed, we moved to the rest of the room.  The top of the huge black and white TV was large enough to hold the snow village.  Each house and the church were painted cardboard fitted with a light bulb making their colored cellophane windowpanes glow.  There were decorated pine trees and elves made of pinecones, pipe cleaners and felt.  Flimsy it may have been, but it was cherished.  A tinkerer at heart, Dad kept adding to the village.  A mirror became a skating pond, tiny lamp posts graced the “street”.  The village eventually outgrew the TV top and had to move to a new location.

A gold bell that played Silent Night hung from one doorway, mistletoe from another.  A lighted church sat on the end table on top of sparkly white cotton batting emulating snow and surrounded by Nativity vignettes.  Mr. and Mrs. Claus stood on either side of the fireplace.  The last thing to be displayed was the crèche.  I loved the smell of the papier mache figures and the soft glow from the blue light illuminating Mary’s robe.  In the weeks to come I would spend hours playing with the crèche as if it were a doll house.

Not a room escaped decoration.  Every window had a candle either on the sill or hanging inside a red wreath.  Even the bathroom had a bubble lamp and a candle in the window.

Then came the outside.  A large plastic lantern, later to be replaced by a Santa, brightened the front porch.  Dad strung colored lights along the porch railing and throughout the hedge in front of the house.  After a heavy snowfall red, blue, yellow, green, and purple lights shone through giving the hedge an otherworldly glow.

There was no such thing as too many Christmas decorations as far as Dad was concerned.  Over the years, he made tree ornaments including drums and sleds with each of our names on them.  He outdid himself the year he made a perpetual calendar.  The scene at the top was attached with Velcro and could be changed with the seasons.  Naturally, the Christmas scene was the best.  It was a miniature replica of our living room right down to the same wallpaper and the clock and candlesticks on our fireplace mantel.

 

 
















With the decorating complete, our home was transformed.  Every day of the Christmas season I played in the wonderland of my own personal Christmas Village.  Every night glowed with colorful splendor.  The saddest for me was the weekend after New Year’s when everything came down, packed away in the basement, the magic gone, the house returned to normal.  It was like waking up from the best ever dream.

Since Dad’s been gone, I decorate the house.  Though my taste is a bit different from my dad’s, I seem to have inherited his love for holiday decorating. I still move furniture, to give the tree pride of place.  I miss the smell of papier mache from the long lost crèche, my current one being made of sturdier material.  I love to sit in the living room in the evening, gazing at the lights on the tree, the one remaining Wynken, Blynken and Nod ornament always prominent.  I can feel Dad’s presence in the quiet of the evening.  Our styles are very different, but unlike me, he was decorating for kids.  His joy came as much from the glee his efforts brought to us as from his own enjoyment of the holiday.  I think he is smiling with me as I create my grownup version of Christmas Land.  And I’m certain he would appreciate the invention of pre-strung lights on the Christmas tree.

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