Roland Yeomans's Blog, page 6

Why Does HALLOWEEN Stay So Popular?

 

Halloween has been more Trick than Treat to me of late ...
But I couldn't let one of my childhood's better holidays pass unnoticed.
The National Retail Federation reckons that Americans will pay

a record $3 billion-plus this season on hairy spiders, blowup Draculas and plastic maggots that glow in the dark.

Millennials are characterized by a desire for a prolonged adolescence so it is no surprise that they cling to the idea of dressing up.

In fact, two in three adults feel Halloween is a holiday for them and not just kids.



But I think it goes deeper:

The books and then movies in the 50's of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS and WHO GOES THERE? (THE THING)

did not just tap into the paranoia of the Cold War

but also the paranoia of adulthood when aging children realized that their parents, 

their leaders, and those around them were not who they posed as being:


In essence those children lost their innocence in that they realized they were surrounded by people wearing masks ...

and that the real monsters lay BENEATH those masks.

Especially since September 11, 2001, the Boston Marathon Bombing, and endless school shootings,

it seems all too easy to imagine a murderer sitting in the aisle next to you.


Sociologists tell us if you want to understand a culture, look at its holidays.  

 Christmas gift-giving rituals shed light on how we manage social relationships. 

Thanksgiving feasts depend on shared understandings of family and national origin stories.

 Halloween, with its emphasis on identity, horror and transgression, can tell us about who we want to be and what we fear becoming.


Of course, that is not the only reason for the surging popularity of Halloween --

Young adults I’ve spoken with often identify this as their favorite part of the holiday – the chance to be, at least for a night, whatever they wish to be.


There’s no stress to it.

 You don’t have to travel or deal with relatives. There’s not the holiday pressure to find a date if you are single.

You can wear whatever you want and not be judged. There’s the fantasy, role-play element.

 If you think about it, it’s not surprising that 70% of people feel it’s their favorite holiday.


My friend, Darren Comeaux,

tells me that Halloween is quite an event in Japan, a country from which he has just returned.



In Japan, Halloween is not simply an end-of October event.

1.)  It is celebrated more in the form of masquerade parties and parades for adults.


2.) Halloween season in Japan runs for quite a long time.

 In amusement parks like Disneyland, Halloween-themed performances start from early September.

In schools and offices, Halloween parties and related events fill up their calendars for two months.


(While in American Politics, Trick or Treat lasts all year!)


3.) Halloween is still a growing market in Japan.



DEVIL'S NIGHT

Devil's Night is a name associated with October 30, the night before HALLOWEEN in Detroit, Michigan

(a city that both Victor Standish and I have highly violent memories of)

Devil's Night dates from as early as the 1930's.

Traditionally, city youths engaged in a night of mischievous or petty criminal behavior, usually consisting of minor pranks.

However, in the early 1970s, the vandalism escalated to more destructive acts such as arson.


The crimes became more destructive in Detroit's inner-city neighborhoods, and included hundreds of acts of arson and vandalism every year.

The destruction reached a peak in the mid- to late-1980s,

with more than 800 fires set in 1984, and 500 to 800 fires in the three days and nights before Halloween in a typical year.


ANGEL'S NIGHT

Let us resolve to counter-act the darkness a bit and make of Halloween season a time of Angel Nights where we do random acts of kindness.

Now, that's a real treat to a night of tricks, right?

Look for my collections of Halloween tales 


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GVFH1PFonly 99 cents

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HM8ZS5Qonly 99 cents

Living in UNCERTAIN TIMES

 

Who to vote for? Will Our Vote even make it out of the ballot box?

A fatal amount of Covid-19could have justlodged in the membranesof our eyes.
(Yes, we can catch it that way)

Or we become a victim ofviolenceby uttering amicro-aggressionorsupport of a hated groupof which we were unaware.

When did we get sothin-skinned anyway?
I feel many of ourgreat grandparentswho survivedthe depression

would tell us it waspast time togrow up.

I got a scathing email recently from a reader who scorned me for 

even suggesting that a white male Caesar could speak for and to all humanity.

The ghost of Mark Twain whispered in my ear, and I wrote back

that I would try to "man up" to these changing times.

But back to writing in these uncertain times.

I am not a Titan of Literature, but I have read and listened to many of them.

Take Harlan Ellison whose ghost visited my blog long ago:

https://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2023/11/decembering-art-isnt-supposed-to-be_30.html

He would say that the very uncertainty, the very danger of our times

provides grist for the mill of our minds.

The above image should spark a dozen story ideas to us.

Yes, we are scared by the Hamas killings, the plague killing our children now, and by the economic ruin hovering over the horizon.

Michelangelo didn't let the ache in his arms, the spasms in his back

keep him from crafting the masterpiece, the  Pietà.  

Samuel Pepys lived through the London Fire, the Plague, and restive political unrest that could have resulted in his execution.

But he kept writing the journal that is studied by students to this day. 

We can take the idiocies of conflicting demands being ignored 

and make of them a riveting story or novel born of what we see and feel.

WHAT DO YOU THINK? 

Are You Wasting the DARKNESS?

 

Our lives can be thought of as paintings.

Created by dual brushes:

Our own and the Father's.

If we had our way, the painting of our lives would be airy and bright always.

And the lessons of our mistakes would be lost in the glare of unnatural brightness.

"Going on despite the darkness does all the work, while the happy arrival gets all the glory." 

- Mark Twain

The dark hues of life speak to us in ways the bright caresses of happiness never quite manage.

To be bright in a world of darkness is not easy. Do not do it to stand out to others.

Others have their own burdens to carry.

Do it to stand out to yourself in reflection later:

Here is where I endured when I wanted to give up. 

Here is where I became more than what I thought I could be.

Here is where I developed the strength to lend to others in their own time of darkness ...

if only by encouraging them to go on despite the encroaching gloom

while I stand on distant shores.

NO SAFE MODE TO LIFE

 

Have you noticed? The melodies that stick with us are the bittersweet ones.

At least that is the way with me.

Life moves on without us. Time slips through our fingers whether we’re spending it wisely or not ...
whether we even sense it slipping away or not.


There is a relentless forward current to Nature. It sweeps onward like an uncaring river carrying us with her. 
No opportunity to catch our breaths on the banks, for there are no banks to life.
We swim... well, badly... or sink.
There is no Safe Mode to life.

I am not telling you anything of which you are unaware:
Life has become something of a stretch of rapids for most of us.
I hope today finds you in a better spot than you have been struggling in.
For me ...
Well, it has been interesting ... as in the Chinese curse sort of interesting.
Covid claiming me, blood running during a pandemic, 
having my apartment destroyed by Hurricane Laura while I was trapped within it. 
That was ... interesting.
Being homeless for seven months as my city was mostly destroyed by Laura and Delta that followed two weeks later.
A massive heart attack last Halloween ... all trick and no treat.
Back to driving rare blood ... but now, with a camera on the windshield, facing me, monitoring for any minor infraction ...
I commit even one, and I am terminated.
Interesting.
Guess what?
I committed that one. Ouch.

Mother once told me: 
No one has the right to complain about something that is happening to everyone.
We all have been bobbing along some rough currents these past few years.
I pray that those currents have calmed and you find yourselves in a better place with people who care.
I hope the person you see in the mirror is wiser, if not sadder, at the tuition paid.
We are small only if we allow ourselves to become that way.
Be Large. Live Each Breath. Be kind.

Ever wonder what your last book will be?
I think mine will be the above.
{A meld of OLIVER TWIST, FLIGHT OF THE NAVIGATOR, and BAND OF BROTHERS.}
If you are curious about it:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CNR5T9DW
Oh, and in the print versions, there is even an image of Midnight, my cat, at the end who I managed to keep with me during those seven ... interesting ... months.
He is shamelessly asking for reviews of my book, since he gets extra tuna when I am happy.
Well, this post has certainly taken a turn I hadn't expected ... just like life has for all of us, right?
Live on purpose, follow your heart, become your dream.

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” 

- Sister Ameal

WHAT LIES AHEAD?

 

As regular readers of my blog already know, Trick or Trick came early for me this month.

 I remember the words I put in the mouth of my outcast angel, Darael.

 "The Creator has shaped the world in such a way that there will always be troubles so that there will always be a time for heroes, a time for Man to be better than what he believes he can be."

Hero? 

Not hardly. 

I have lost how I make a living.

I am about to lose where I live, most of the possessions I cannot afford to move.

Above is the famous painting by Viktor Vasnetsov, The Knight at the Crossroads (1882.)

What does the stone say?
 Does it matter?
The past is what it was. 
Our current state is where our choices led us.
What lies ahead may be fraught with peril or death. In that age there was no Google.
There really is no Google now that forecasts our future with certainty.
We do the best we can with what we have. Make the best decisions with the facts at hand.
And deal with the consequences ... and fight the Darkness ... until we can't.
Oh, you want to know what the stone really said? 
You won't be any happier than the knight who could read it.

Wish me luck. The way ahead is dark, and I am scared.

STILL HERE

 

I've faced cancer, heart attack, destruction of my apartment by hurricane, homelessness -- 

but this is scarier.

After nearly a quarter of a century, I find myself alone without daily contact with my work friends --- my only friends.

Never have I had an accident or ticket ... and that was no accident.

The video from the newly installed cab camera that showed my offence revealed no traffic at all anywhere around.

How many of you could never take your eye off the road for a second with a camera right in your face? 

Or not scratch your nose once, taking one hand from the wheel?

My work friends want to help ... but the need is too great.

I won't ask for help from you for the same reason.

I am scared. 

GOT FIRED ON MY BIRTHDAY

 

I got fired from my job on my birthday today. Talk about a nasty Trick for Halloween!

All of us drivers have a camera aimed at us. I do not recall running that stop sign.

23 and a half years without one ticket or accident ... then this.

With a camera aimed right at me, it was bound to happen to me sooner or later.

I was hoping for later.

All my coworkers were crying ... even my supervisor.

I am 75, no savings thanks to hurricanes/medical bills, and expensive rent.

Who will hire me at this age?

As lame as hearing "Everything happens for a reason," 

it is better hearing it out  loud.

Because when you hear it your head, it sounds an awful like "Anything can happen with a razor."

If you can donate anything to my PayPal account, it would be deeply appreciated.

paypal.me/rolandyeomans1

HOW DO YOU KILL A ZOMBIE BUILDING?

 

Where do we come from? The dust.

Where do we go? 

The grave.

Does blood stir in the veins of a dead building?

No. 

Only the night wind.

What does it hear?

The Abyss between the stars.

Like a raw scar across a beautiful woman's face,

The shattered remains of

the towering Capitol One Building

haunted all who viewed it

in my city.

Those in power seem to sift the human storm for souls.

Hence the needless suffering in states where FEMA is sluggish.

The Federal Government seems, like a zombie, to eat the flesh of reason, to fill graves with the helpless, and to stumble forth with empty words.

Oh, I asked how do you kill a

Zombie Building?

Here's how

(with a glimpse of the beauty

of my city)

WOULD YOU WRITE HORROR? IWSG Post

 

Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/blackrabbit...
We are living in a horror movie.
The Russians are said to be deploying a Poseidon torpedo.
Fact is they may have already deposited one off our shores months ago

Then, there is Russia's Dead Hand:

Of course, WWIII may be on thebrink of starting:

It seems Trick or Treat has come early,doesn't it?
OCTOBER is horror month. 
It is popular to be scared now.
But not this scared, right? 
After all, movies, shows, and months eventually end

Do you know what galvanized President Regan 

to work so hard for world peace? 

A TV movie.

I  have been finding it hard to write about 

fictional horror, 

feeling too much like Nero

fiddling while Rome burned.

Scientific studies indicate that those

who are not so empathic

can enjoy horror movies more

than those who feel more

negatively about those in torment.

What do you think?

Stephen King wrote:

"I think people do kind of gravitate towards horror stories when times are tough, and times are scary."

Have you found writing harder these days?

There is a quote from LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA:

"Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them.

But Life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."

What do you think?

DEADLY HARVEST_An Untold Tale of the Son of Lucas and Ingrid of the DARK HOLLYWOOD series of books

 

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/

Yesterday, a ring of evil looking mushrooms appeared in the grass in front of my apartment door.

No other apartment had them across the entire sprawling complex. 

None did today. 

But my mushrooms had multiplied ... 

and gotten closer.

Cue the spooky music

For Increased Effect read 
accompanied to music below post

HOW YOU DIE (999 words)  Nola bizi, hala hil. 
(How you live is how you will die.) – Basque proverb

Scofield studied me with eyes holding all the warmth of a hawk’s.  

 “ I’m unsettled by the mushrooms.”

We were playing chess not eating her cooking. Not that I would be so foolish as to eat her cooking.   
Her last name wasn't Scofield any more than mine was Templar.

  Her beauty when young was legendary, leading to the death of many of her assignments.   
Even in her sixties, Scofield was striking.

“There’s much that’s unsettling at Dunwich Estates.”

Her voice cracked with fear.   
“Those black mushrooms just appeared at the farthest mansion … 
their ring sprouting at twilight, circling a dead cat, though by dawn the cat was gone.”

 A black cat strolled lazily out from under the table to rub against my leg.

Scofield paled.  
 “When did you get a cat?”

I turned up the corners of my lips.  “There are worse things awaiting the living than death.”

Her thin lips tightened.  “I was enjoying the south of France until the Service forced me to move next to you.”

“You could have said ‘No’.”

“Ending up on the same list as you?”

“I’ve been on that list a long time.  I’m still here.”

“How have you managed that?”

“I … find a way to arrange a win/win situation for myself and … uneasy allies.”

The cat moved as if to rub against Scofield’s leg, and she rose quickly.  
 “I have to go.”

I watched her almost run to the front door, flinging it open, 

revealing a full moon against a stark night sky as if it had hungrily devoured all the stars.

The cat laughed in a man’s voice, “Tókša akhé.”   

‘Later’ in Dakota.

It looked up at me with hungry eyes. 

“Soon,” I promised.   

Its eyes said it had better be damn soon.  Emphasis on the damned.

 In the following days, I went about keeping my word.  
 I built one Dakota Burial Platform after another on the front lawn of my estate 
until the grounds bristled like some grotesque beard.

***

I was putting the finishing touches on the last platform 
when the black cat flowed out of the deepening twilight shadows. 
“Osiceca.”

“I know. The storm is almost here.  We’ve run out of time.”

Scofield appeared as if out of nowhere, holding a bowl of liquid.  I sniffed.  

 Mushroom soup.

Her voice was still her own. 
 “The lights have gone out all over Dunwich Estates.  Only your estate and mine have lights on at night.   
One manor after another has been swallowed up by those damn mushrooms.”

“Doesn't explain that soup.”

“Arthur’s grounds were taken over last night. I took these mushrooms from his front yard.”

“The President of the Community Board?”

“He wouldn’t answer any of my phone calls.  I went over to his front door just now 
and saw him and his wife standing motionless in the front room just staring at one another, 
their lips wiggling but no sounds coming out.”

I shrugged.  “At least none that human ears could hear.”

“Damn you!  You know something, don’t you?”

“The developers of these estates really knew how to pick their sites.   
Not just any Dakota burial site, mind you, but one whose spiritual energies blocked the way to ….”

I trailed off, not having the words that an assassin bred in the “real world” would understand.

“Dakota?  I thought you were Basque.”

I nodded.  “My grandmother was full Basque.  

 My grandfather didn’t stay around long enough to tell my father just what he was.”

“He was Dakota?”

“Apache.  But Elu's ability to inhabit dead animals helped him get around.”

Scofield asked as if to a madman, “Was that his name?”

I nodded to the black cat studying her like a red-tailed hawk would a lame mouse. 

“Is his name.  Meet my uneasy ally.  Everyone from the Service who've tried to kill me already have.”

Scofield dumped out the soup with a hurried flick of a wrist. 

The cat laughed in a very unfeline way.  She paled.

I nodded to the tiny mushrooms sprouting up from the spilled soup.    “As you have lived so you will die.  You failed them.  I’m sure they don’t forgive.”

“H-Help me.”

“You sowed the seeds. Now, comes the harvest.”

“Please!”

“If you run fast enough, you might make it to your front door before our possessed neighbors drag you down.”

Scofield watched the growing black mushrooms with ever-widening eyes for a heartbeat, then raced away into the night.

“Spry for her age.”

The cat grunted: “Hiya Onsi La?”

“No mercy in war, Elu.”

In the darkness beyond my gate, Scofield cried out.  

 Once.

I looked down at the impassive gaze of the cat. 
 Its eyes said there was a justice not written in books nor found in any court.

In the 19th century, the railroads exterminated the buffalo to force the Dakota onto reservations. 

After a harsh winter, the Minnesota government withheld food and payment for their lands. 
“Let them eat grass,” said one trader.

Bloodshed ensued, ending with the largest mass execution in U.S. history, 38 Santee warriors, 

after a trial of five minutes with neither attorneys nor witnesses allowed.

I looked up at the diamond dust of the Milky Way, the Hanging Road, which led to the Camp of the Dead.   

Trudging through my gate, the possessed of Dunwich Estates silently swayed and suddenly stopped.  
 Glazed eyes studied my 38 burial platforms for long moments.

Flying whips of fire hissed down from the sky to consume those platforms.   

What emerged were grim-faced figures of living flame. 
 The Wana’gi Elu called them.

In Karmic retribution, the Wana’gi sprang at the mushroom-controlled humans 

dispossessing the bodies and claiming them for their own.

More darts of strange fire sizzled down from the stars toward the houses beyond.

“Come, Grandson,” gruffed Elu’s voice from the cat.   

“As a White, you will not be welcomed.”

I nodded, walking into that darkness which never forgets … nor forgives.