Tag Archives: Halloween

Cider

Cider: (n) an unfermented drink made by crushing fruit, typically apples.

It was less than two miles outside of our town.

There was a family with a farm who had apple trees and a press.

A cider press.

It was delicious.

Looking back, the climate that surrounded apple cider during my upbringing was transcendent of anything that I later or even now experience.

The trees were filled with colorful leaves, the air was brisk and made you want to leap a little when you walked, and the cider was glob-in-your-throat sweet.

Every once in a while my mother accidentally left some in the refrigerator too long and it would get zippy. Some zing.

I did not realize that it had slightly fermented (I’m not sure how anything can slightly ferment) but I desperately enjoyed it.

I remember going to Halloween parties. The menu was so simple: cider, caramel apples, doughnuts and candy corn. (One kid in our class said it was well-balanced because the candy corn was a vegetable.)

Sugar, sugar, sugar.

I don’t know how we ever worked it off–and maybe we didn’t. It would literally kill me today if I had a doughnut with cider and a side of candy corn. I would be rushed to the hospital.

But hopefully the Emergency Room would be nearby, on a brisk day, with the leaves about to fall.

 

 

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Boo

Boo: (exclam) said suddenly to surprise someone.

Halloween–many years ago in Central Ohio, driving around with one of my buddies and three cheerleaders from the high school who came with us because we Dictionary Btold them that we knew where there was a ghost.

We had no idea what we were talking about.

But we realized the only way we could pull this off and get the lovely young ladies so scared that they would grab us around the neck and hug us for comfort was to come up with an unbelievably creative story and weave it in such a way that terror would fill the interior of my Chevy Impala.

There was an old house outside our town which had been abandoned for a long time–so long that moss was growing up the exterior walls, and also bats flying in and out of broken windows. We decided this was the best place to go to establish the foundation for our tale.

When we arrived in the pitch-black surroundings, we noticed in the upper left-hand corner window, there was a faint glow, as if someone had placed a candle. It was so eerie that I knew the god of story-telling, wherever he or she may be, had prepared it just for us.

I began my fable.

“In this house an old man killed himself up in that very left corner window, by hanging from a nearby rafter, swinging in the breeze.”

As I pointed to the window, there was suddenly a shadow that swept across the faint glow, floating back and forth.

It was damn spooky–so much so that the girls went absolutely stark-raving nuts, screaming–and I nearly eked out one myself. We huddled together in the car, staring up at the mysterious phantom illumination.

After a few minutes I got so freaked out that I started the car and took off, much to the chagrin of my friend, who still wanted to continue the fear-mongering (perhaps to the point of turning it into a make-out session.)

But you see, even though I made up the lie, and knew it was not true, I had convinced myself of its validity, to the point that I was thoroughly prepared for that old ghost, at any moment, to descend upon us with a big, old-fashioned “boo!”

Let me see: I generated a lie which I began to believe and because I was convinced of it, acted as if it was the truth.

Hell … I became a politician.

 

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Ayatollah

Ayatollah: (n) a Shiite religious leader in Iran.

I would like to broaden the definition of “asshole.”dictionary with letter A

It’s not that I want to use the word more. You can feel free to change the term if you so desire.

I believe an asshole is anyone who promotes his or her peculiarity as making them better than other people.

Whenever I see pictures of clerics of all religions, wearing their costumes and establishing their dominance through facial hair, robes and funny hats, the first thought that comes to my mind is “asshole”–especially when they begin to espouse that their particular garb and gab is supreme.

Here’s what I think: if you need a costume to promote your ideas and it’s not Halloween, you are officially an asshole.

Because my understanding is that the great men of history, who truly had something important to say, were very careful to blend in with the masses, using a common head and a common thread instead of standing afar off and yelling extreme disapproval at the top of their lungs.

So to all the priests, preachers, mullahs, ayatollahs and dollies who apparently breed llamas, I pronounce you irrelevant.

You will remain irrelevant as long as you insist that you have come to save the world, which generally speaking … you choose to condemn.

 

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Autumn

Autumn: (n) the third season of the year

I hear people say it all the time: “I love the four seasons.”dictionary with letter A

I assume they’re referring to spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Every time I overhear the words, I ask myself, do you agree with that? And I realize I don’t.

I actually like two seasons. Unfortunately, there is no climate in the world that allows for the exclusive pair I prefer.

I like summer and autumn.

Spring has too much rain, buzzing bees and sneezes.

Winter…well, it’s cold.

But summer is warm and autumn gives me the tremendous sensation of flashing back to boyhood.

Magnificent things happen in the autumn when you’re a kid.

  • You go back to school.

At first you hate it, but then you realize that your friends are there and they make great jail mates.

  • Football.

Yes, autumn is the best season for football. Growing up in Ohio, there was just enough chill in the air that you had to wear a sweater or a hoodie, and could almost see your breath in the air.

  • Halloween.

Even if you didn’t dress up in a costume, the holiday afforded donuts and candy and all the things forbidden for rest of the year, but for some reason were sugar- and calorie-free on All Hallow’s Eve.

  • And of course, autumn showcases the beautiful gathering for Thanksgiving.

To me, Thanksgiving is the definition of family–even more than Christmas, when we’re busy buying and receiving presents. It’s a time when we actually have to sit together, over-consume food and converse. Although dangerous, it is a blessing.

I was kind of saddened when autumn became fall.

It must have been a similar reaction that God felt when love was only defined as sex.

There’s nothing “fall”en about autumn.

It is a beautiful season which confirms that the things that bloom must eventually die … to make room for a new possibility.

 

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August

August (n): the eighth month of the year, in the northern hemisphere usually considered the last month of summer.

dictionary with letter A

It would be a toss-up between August and January.

These are the two months that are desperately in need of a good public relations agent, January being the let-down month after Christmas and the New Year, when the weather is miserable and people begin to get their credit card bills from Nativity celebrations.

But I still would have to say that August is the odd month out.

  • It foretells of the winding down of summer.
  • It’s when all swimsuits and inner tubes are discounted at your local Wal-Mart.
  • It’s also proclaimed to be the hottest month of the year, so therefore utility bills go up, fostering cranky consumers.
  • It also dangles on the precipice of the fall, which is full of the promise of football, whereas the month of August only offers a few measly exhibition games.

August is supposed to be august with regality but ends up producing the whining of young kids, complaining about the forthcoming of another school year, as they already begin to pine for better months with better holidays, like Halloween and Thanksgiving.

I don’t know whether you could promote August.

I have a dear friend who was born in August, so that makes it a little more pleasant.

But other than that, it’s kind of a let-down after July 4th, waiting for Saturday Game Day … for college football.

 

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Aseptic

Aseptic: (adj) free of germs that cause diseasedictionary with letter A

One of the more miserable times in life is when you discover that you’re contagious (and I’m not talking about having a sparkling personality.)

It could be a runny nose, a stomach virus, a cold sore or any one of a number of little irritations that come onto the human pathway and make us temporarily unacceptable for communion with our brothers and sisters.

Only once in my life was I dubbed “septic.” I had picked up a couple of bacteria microbes which had spread through my bloodstream, and then, upon being hospitalized, the environment of the healing institution afforded me a couple more.

Yes, I went to the hospital to multiply my contagion.

It was very annoying.

The nurses who took care of me had to take the precaution of wearing masks and rubber gloves all the time, and I felt like Typhoid Johnny. They checked my blood daily to see if I was decreasing in toxicity, and if it would be possible for me to once again someday walk among the living.

And what made it worse was that I did not feel bad–I was basically without symptoms, but still viral. And I do not mean like a video.

I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was when the last blood test declared me aseptic. There were still nurses who didn’t believe the test, and appeared donning their garb, obviously trying out costumes for Halloween.

But I had the confidence that I was no longer a threat to others.

Now I am not going to go philosophical here and discuss how septic attitudes–disgusting prejudices–can be passed along to other people. Far be it for me to turn every conversation into some sort of human parable.

But let me say that having been septic … I can recommend aseptic.

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