Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 79
November 16, 2015
Five Mistakes to Avoid in Your NaNoWriMo Novel
When you’re a writer, just being able to sit at the keyboard (or pen) may help save your sanity in these troubled times. (#WorstNovemberEver) So even though we’re halfway through National Novel Writing Month, I wanted to pass on Grammarly’s list of five writing mistakes to watch out for:
Thanks to Grammarly for the tips:
https://www.grammarly.com/grammar-check
Since NaNoWriMo is something of a headlong rush, these tips might count more toward the next, and just as important, phase in your novel: editing. But editing the third draft of my latest book is exactly my task for this fall, and you should be halfway to finishing your first draft anyway, so it works!
Thanks to Grammarly for the tips:
https://www.grammarly.com/grammar-check
Since NaNoWriMo is something of a headlong rush, these tips might count more toward the next, and just as important, phase in your novel: editing. But editing the third draft of my latest book is exactly my task for this fall, and you should be halfway to finishing your first draft anyway, so it works!
November 10, 2015
Winterizing’s Not for the Weak
Originally in print in the Kendallville Mall, where it’s also cold:
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
It can be nice to sit in my house and let the summer breeze blow past us. Or, to get even more breeze, we could open the windows.
My house leaks like a Washington bureaucrat. Over the years we’ve stuffed cracks and other openings with anything we could find: towels, sandbags, small cars, door to door salesmen, whatever. A nice breeze isn’t what you want come November.
We don’t know exactly how old the place is, but a guy named Fred Markey carved the date 1879 into a garage wall. Is that when he was born? When he built the house? Or when he got cabin fever and went crazy with a knife?
The walls once held blown in insulation, but over time it settled, or possibly got carried off by mice. Now we have the annual, depressing, tradition called “winterizing”.
I don’t like winterizing, because it reminds me winter’s coming. Winter comes every year, usually in the fall. It’s like it’s seasonal, or something.
Hm … maybe that 1879 carving commemorated the winter they found Fred Markey frozen to the outhouse seat. It would be embarrassing to be frozen to indoor plumbing, so we winterize, starting with storm windows. Traditionally they’re installed just before an unusual warm front comes through, forcing you to decide whether to take them back down to let warm air in, or just curse the fates.
I also put plastic up on the inside of the windows. You put double sided tape around each window, then place the plastic on it, then curse and flounder as the tape falls off. Then you put the plastic on again and use a hair drier, which tightens it up so wrinkles don’t show. NOTE: This does not work on skin.
In the spring, this tape will be impossible to remove. In the fall, you’ve got an even chance it will fall off.
You can also use spray foam insulation and caulk, to seal cracks. The main purposes of these substances are to form permanent crusts on clothing. They’re also fairly effective at removing skin.
At some point, the furnace has to be started for the season. This is always a time of great interest in my house: I’m interested to know if it will start. I have hot water radiators, and the water is heated by a boiler. Anyone who knows me understands that me waving a match over a pilot light to start a boiler is akin to Wiley Coyote opening the latest package from Acme Co.
You know something is going to happen; you just don’t know if the result will be ashes and singed hair, or a flattened body against the wall.
But I’m seriously considering not doing any of that this year.
You see, earlier this fall I put on the air conditioner cover. Not on myself. This is a cover that goes over the air conditioner: See what they did, there? My window air conditioner was there when I bought the house, seriously and permanently caulked and set into the dining room window. That makes it at least twenty-five years old, which means whether it starts in the spring is always a mystery, but that’s a story for another season.
The polyvinyl cover has a couple of elastic strings attached to it. The instructions say to wrap the strings around the cover, hook them over the air conditioner, and voila—instant winterization.
Until the first time the wind blows.
What does work? Duct tape. Rolls and rolls of duct tape.
Under the forecast of a 20 degree temperature drop, I got the storm windows up. Then I put the cover over the air conditioner and waved for a truck to back in. I’d ordered a dump truck load of duct tape. They dumped it right into my driveway, and other than the dozen or so rolls that rolled down the hill out back (should have seen that coming), I was set.
I taped the cover to the conditioner. I taped the cover to the window. I taped the cover to the wall, the conditioner to the window, the wall to the conditioner, and I finished by taping the tape to the tape. There was now no sign of the green plastic cover. I might as well have skipped it and just made a duct-cover.
It made me oddly happy.
By then the sun had set on my duct tape paradise, so I did some winterizing inside, such as replacing the door-to-door salesmen in the cracks. The next morning I pulled on my coat, walked out the door, and stepped on the air conditioner cover.
Some of the tape was still on the cover.
Some of the tape was still on the wall.
But they were no longer connected to each other.
I said something then that I rarely say in public, and would be best off not repeating here. Then I stumbled back inside and collapsed on the couch, where my wife took in my red face and the steam coming from my ears, and tried to decide whether to dial 911.
And that’s why I’m considering giving up on the whole winterizing thing. What, I can’t build a fire in the bathtub and just hover over it all winter? It probably worked for Fred Markey.
By the way, I’ve got some used duct tape for sale … cheap.
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
It can be nice to sit in my house and let the summer breeze blow past us. Or, to get even more breeze, we could open the windows.
My house leaks like a Washington bureaucrat. Over the years we’ve stuffed cracks and other openings with anything we could find: towels, sandbags, small cars, door to door salesmen, whatever. A nice breeze isn’t what you want come November.
We don’t know exactly how old the place is, but a guy named Fred Markey carved the date 1879 into a garage wall. Is that when he was born? When he built the house? Or when he got cabin fever and went crazy with a knife?
The walls once held blown in insulation, but over time it settled, or possibly got carried off by mice. Now we have the annual, depressing, tradition called “winterizing”.
I don’t like winterizing, because it reminds me winter’s coming. Winter comes every year, usually in the fall. It’s like it’s seasonal, or something.
Hm … maybe that 1879 carving commemorated the winter they found Fred Markey frozen to the outhouse seat. It would be embarrassing to be frozen to indoor plumbing, so we winterize, starting with storm windows. Traditionally they’re installed just before an unusual warm front comes through, forcing you to decide whether to take them back down to let warm air in, or just curse the fates.
I also put plastic up on the inside of the windows. You put double sided tape around each window, then place the plastic on it, then curse and flounder as the tape falls off. Then you put the plastic on again and use a hair drier, which tightens it up so wrinkles don’t show. NOTE: This does not work on skin.
In the spring, this tape will be impossible to remove. In the fall, you’ve got an even chance it will fall off.
You can also use spray foam insulation and caulk, to seal cracks. The main purposes of these substances are to form permanent crusts on clothing. They’re also fairly effective at removing skin.
At some point, the furnace has to be started for the season. This is always a time of great interest in my house: I’m interested to know if it will start. I have hot water radiators, and the water is heated by a boiler. Anyone who knows me understands that me waving a match over a pilot light to start a boiler is akin to Wiley Coyote opening the latest package from Acme Co.
You know something is going to happen; you just don’t know if the result will be ashes and singed hair, or a flattened body against the wall.
But I’m seriously considering not doing any of that this year.
You see, earlier this fall I put on the air conditioner cover. Not on myself. This is a cover that goes over the air conditioner: See what they did, there? My window air conditioner was there when I bought the house, seriously and permanently caulked and set into the dining room window. That makes it at least twenty-five years old, which means whether it starts in the spring is always a mystery, but that’s a story for another season.
The polyvinyl cover has a couple of elastic strings attached to it. The instructions say to wrap the strings around the cover, hook them over the air conditioner, and voila—instant winterization.
Until the first time the wind blows.
What does work? Duct tape. Rolls and rolls of duct tape.
Under the forecast of a 20 degree temperature drop, I got the storm windows up. Then I put the cover over the air conditioner and waved for a truck to back in. I’d ordered a dump truck load of duct tape. They dumped it right into my driveway, and other than the dozen or so rolls that rolled down the hill out back (should have seen that coming), I was set.
I taped the cover to the conditioner. I taped the cover to the window. I taped the cover to the wall, the conditioner to the window, the wall to the conditioner, and I finished by taping the tape to the tape. There was now no sign of the green plastic cover. I might as well have skipped it and just made a duct-cover.
It made me oddly happy.
By then the sun had set on my duct tape paradise, so I did some winterizing inside, such as replacing the door-to-door salesmen in the cracks. The next morning I pulled on my coat, walked out the door, and stepped on the air conditioner cover.
Some of the tape was still on the cover.
Some of the tape was still on the wall.
But they were no longer connected to each other.
I said something then that I rarely say in public, and would be best off not repeating here. Then I stumbled back inside and collapsed on the couch, where my wife took in my red face and the steam coming from my ears, and tried to decide whether to dial 911.
And that’s why I’m considering giving up on the whole winterizing thing. What, I can’t build a fire in the bathtub and just hover over it all winter? It probably worked for Fred Markey.
By the way, I’ve got some used duct tape for sale … cheap.
November 9, 2015
The Funniest Book Based On My Columns ... okay, the only one.
“(My first) apartment was slightly smaller than my ’76 Pontiac Ventura, but contained what I needed: a table just large enough to hold my manual typewriter, a stack of scrap paper with one clean side, and a dictionary. The rest would be history, and someday there’d be a little plaque on the front door (okay, the only door) of that one room salute to literary beginnings.
“Years later, after I’d moved on and my writing career hadn’t, the building burned down.
“Boy, I wish I’d gone to college.”
Slightly Off the Mark: The Unpublished Columns is just $8.75 in print, or $1.98 as an e-book … I’m not sure you can even get movie popcorn for nine bucks, anymore. Maybe one of those small bags that’s half spilled before you reach your seat. If you spill a book, you can just pick it up. If you like to bring books into the theater (and who doesn’t?) and you’re worried about the pages falling on a sticky floor, read it on your phone (but only until the movie starts). You’re already seen all the ads, anyway.
But if you like coming attractions, I'm also in need of reviews, recommendations, and reposts.
http://markrhunter.com/SOTMUnpubd.html
“Years later, after I’d moved on and my writing career hadn’t, the building burned down.
“Boy, I wish I’d gone to college.”
Slightly Off the Mark: The Unpublished Columns is just $8.75 in print, or $1.98 as an e-book … I’m not sure you can even get movie popcorn for nine bucks, anymore. Maybe one of those small bags that’s half spilled before you reach your seat. If you spill a book, you can just pick it up. If you like to bring books into the theater (and who doesn’t?) and you’re worried about the pages falling on a sticky floor, read it on your phone (but only until the movie starts). You’re already seen all the ads, anyway.
But if you like coming attractions, I'm also in need of reviews, recommendations, and reposts.
http://markrhunter.com/SOTMUnpubd.html
November 8, 2015
Barn Burner
A few photos from yesterday's fire are on my blog:
http://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2015/...
Some photos from yesterday’s fire on my blog … a bad day for everyone.
http://markrhunter.blogspot.com/2015/...
Some photos from yesterday’s fire on my blog … a bad day for everyone.
November 4, 2015
Begging Books for Fun and Fund Raising
I’d like to ask everyone to considering spreading the word about two books that raise money for worthy causes:
All the proceeds from sales of Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department go to, yes, the Albion Fire Department. We’re expecting delivery of a pumper-tanker in about a month, so the money could help equip the new truck, or help with any number of other expenses. Our fire department history is illustrated, but is still only $9.95 in print—and like all our books, can be ordered directly on my website:
http://markrhunter.com/books.html
There are copies at the fire station, the Brick Ark Inn, and the Noble Art Gallery, and it’s also available for $2.99 on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00D...
I’d like to give the fire department a nice Christmas present of a check for this year’s sales, and I hope both history buffs and firefighting fans will get something out of Smoky Days.
#
Half of the proceeds for my humor-adventure novel, The No-Campfire Girls, go toward the upkeep and continued operation of Camp Latonka, Emily’s former Girl Scout camp in southeast Missouri. It’s only $5.00 anywhere good books are sold—well, anywhere this good book is sold—and just 99 cents on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00K...
The main character in The No-Campfire Girls is Beth Hamlin, a major supporting character in my novels Storm Chaser and The Notorious Grant, who also has a story of her own in my collection, Storm Chaser Shorts. You don’t have to read the others—The No-Campfire Girls is a standalone—but if you have, you know she’s the type who loves a good challenge and is never boring.
If you care for Scouts, firefighters, firefighting Scouts, or just a good cause in general, please: Purchase, review, retweet, repost, tell a friend, tell other camps/troops/firehouses, or maybe tag the book titles on a passing boxcar. I would suggest waiting until the boxcar comes to a stop.
All the proceeds from sales of Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or So With the Albion Fire Department go to, yes, the Albion Fire Department. We’re expecting delivery of a pumper-tanker in about a month, so the money could help equip the new truck, or help with any number of other expenses. Our fire department history is illustrated, but is still only $9.95 in print—and like all our books, can be ordered directly on my website:
http://markrhunter.com/books.html
There are copies at the fire station, the Brick Ark Inn, and the Noble Art Gallery, and it’s also available for $2.99 on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00D...
I’d like to give the fire department a nice Christmas present of a check for this year’s sales, and I hope both history buffs and firefighting fans will get something out of Smoky Days.
#
Half of the proceeds for my humor-adventure novel, The No-Campfire Girls, go toward the upkeep and continued operation of Camp Latonka, Emily’s former Girl Scout camp in southeast Missouri. It’s only $5.00 anywhere good books are sold—well, anywhere this good book is sold—and just 99 cents on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00K...
The main character in The No-Campfire Girls is Beth Hamlin, a major supporting character in my novels Storm Chaser and The Notorious Grant, who also has a story of her own in my collection, Storm Chaser Shorts. You don’t have to read the others—The No-Campfire Girls is a standalone—but if you have, you know she’s the type who loves a good challenge and is never boring.
If you care for Scouts, firefighters, firefighting Scouts, or just a good cause in general, please: Purchase, review, retweet, repost, tell a friend, tell other camps/troops/firehouses, or maybe tag the book titles on a passing boxcar. I would suggest waiting until the boxcar comes to a stop.
November 3, 2015
More Entitled History
I’m working the third draft of what I’m still calling the Indiana History Humor book, because it’s my book and I can call it whatever I want. Obviously that’s not going to be the final title. I haven’t worried much because there’s plenty of time to get it titled, polished, and photo’d in time for Indiana’s bicentennial. Right?
And that’s true, if we self-publish it. If we decide to try for a traditional publisher—and there are some publishers who deal in historical humor—then time is definitely wasting. It’s only two months before 2016, so either way I’d better kick it into gear.
But what to title? In my mind, a humor book about Indiana history should have a title that touches on Indiana, and humor, and maybe history. I’ve been compiling a list for some time now, and a few of the possibilities include:
Back to Indiana (as in, I’m goin’ back to Indiana)
From La Salle to Lincoln (Personally, I think this one’s descriptive, but lame.)
More than Corn, but Proudly Corny (See above.)
Indiana Wants Me (Not very descriptive, but I’ve thought of adding a subtitle: But So Far I’ve Managed to Avoid Extradition.
Banks of the Wabash: Drowning In History (Meh.)
Removed to Indiana (This is from a quote by Abe Lincoln. It only makes sense if you’re familiar with that quote, which didn’t make it into the Gettysburg Address.)
A Humorous Treatise On Indiana History, Mores and Events, Illustrated (Kidding!)
Hoosier Hysterical (This is my favorite, but it’s only effective if you know the term “Hoosier Hysteria”. My wife, an avowed sports non-fan, had never heard of it.)
Hoosier Daddy (This is the very first title I thought of, and I really like it, especially if it can be paired with a good subtitle. Others don’t like it. At all.)
Speaking of subtitles, I was entertaining such possibilities as:
“A fractured look at Indiana history”
“How we became us, and why it’s silly”
“How the west became the Midwest without moving at all”
“Funny dressed people conquer the territory”
Now that I think about it, if those last two main titles don’t work out I’m leaning toward Indiana Wants Me, but so far I’ve avoided extradition. Maybe with a sub-sub title. Or maybe not. What do you think? And do you other writers have as much trouble muddling toward good titles as I do?
And that’s true, if we self-publish it. If we decide to try for a traditional publisher—and there are some publishers who deal in historical humor—then time is definitely wasting. It’s only two months before 2016, so either way I’d better kick it into gear.
But what to title? In my mind, a humor book about Indiana history should have a title that touches on Indiana, and humor, and maybe history. I’ve been compiling a list for some time now, and a few of the possibilities include:
Back to Indiana (as in, I’m goin’ back to Indiana)
From La Salle to Lincoln (Personally, I think this one’s descriptive, but lame.)
More than Corn, but Proudly Corny (See above.)
Indiana Wants Me (Not very descriptive, but I’ve thought of adding a subtitle: But So Far I’ve Managed to Avoid Extradition.
Banks of the Wabash: Drowning In History (Meh.)
Removed to Indiana (This is from a quote by Abe Lincoln. It only makes sense if you’re familiar with that quote, which didn’t make it into the Gettysburg Address.)
A Humorous Treatise On Indiana History, Mores and Events, Illustrated (Kidding!)
Hoosier Hysterical (This is my favorite, but it’s only effective if you know the term “Hoosier Hysteria”. My wife, an avowed sports non-fan, had never heard of it.)
Hoosier Daddy (This is the very first title I thought of, and I really like it, especially if it can be paired with a good subtitle. Others don’t like it. At all.)
Speaking of subtitles, I was entertaining such possibilities as:
“A fractured look at Indiana history”
“How we became us, and why it’s silly”
“How the west became the Midwest without moving at all”
“Funny dressed people conquer the territory”
Now that I think about it, if those last two main titles don’t work out I’m leaning toward Indiana Wants Me, but so far I’ve avoided extradition. Maybe with a sub-sub title. Or maybe not. What do you think? And do you other writers have as much trouble muddling toward good titles as I do?
October 30, 2015
The Seventh Question
The Seventh Question:
http://www.simongoodson.com/the-seven...
Thanks to Simon Goodson, who has an author interview corner on his website and somehow learned I’m an author. His series is “Seven questions”, in which he asks six questions about writing … plus a seventh, somewhat more unusual one. And I’m the first entry! Usually I’m only first in the chocolate snack line.
http://www.simongoodson.com/the-seven...
Thanks to Simon Goodson, who has an author interview corner on his website and somehow learned I’m an author. His series is “Seven questions”, in which he asks six questions about writing … plus a seventh, somewhat more unusual one. And I’m the first entry! Usually I’m only first in the chocolate snack line.
October 28, 2015
Horror collection: When the Lights Go Out
I didn’t have time to write something for the Ink Slingers’ League’s latest short story collection, but a bunch of other great writers have put out a work that’s perfect for the Halloween season—and free.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B015QZYYGY/r...
“A collection of twenty-five short stories just in time for Halloween. Enjoy thrills, chills, and mysteries. Meet ghosts, demons, vampires, and monsters everywhere from dark city streets to the English countryside. Scares lurk in the most unexpected places and, when the lights go out, nowhere is safe and no one will be spared.”
Check it out!
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B015QZYYGY/r...
“A collection of twenty-five short stories just in time for Halloween. Enjoy thrills, chills, and mysteries. Meet ghosts, demons, vampires, and monsters everywhere from dark city streets to the English countryside. Scares lurk in the most unexpected places and, when the lights go out, nowhere is safe and no one will be spared.”
Check it out!
October 27, 2015
The Walking Dead are killing me
I have a really stressful full time job, but it’s the TV show The Walking Dead that’s going to send me into therapy.
Usually I choose escapism and/or humor for my entertainment, but every now and then something really dark captures my interest (coughFargocough). Humor happens on The Walking Dead, but as with anything else on that show it’s usually a shock.
I don’t like getting invested in a character, knowing he/she has a better than even chance of not making it through the current season. I don’t like extreme gore. Heck, I’m not even a zombie fan. Yet there I am, week after week, cringing and yelling at the TV and unable to look away.
They really did me in last episode. (I predict he/she’s gone. Face the bitter truth, DeadFans, we lost another favorite.)
It’s all about character. As a writer I love creating new characters, and as a fan I love good writing and great characters. (Much as I love Daryl and Michonne, Glenn’s my favorite.) So I keep watching, and I keep screaming “Why? Why?!”, and next week I’ll come right back for more.
As with any addiction, the stress is taking years off my life.
Usually I choose escapism and/or humor for my entertainment, but every now and then something really dark captures my interest (coughFargocough). Humor happens on The Walking Dead, but as with anything else on that show it’s usually a shock.
I don’t like getting invested in a character, knowing he/she has a better than even chance of not making it through the current season. I don’t like extreme gore. Heck, I’m not even a zombie fan. Yet there I am, week after week, cringing and yelling at the TV and unable to look away.
They really did me in last episode. (I predict he/she’s gone. Face the bitter truth, DeadFans, we lost another favorite.)
It’s all about character. As a writer I love creating new characters, and as a fan I love good writing and great characters. (Much as I love Daryl and Michonne, Glenn’s my favorite.) So I keep watching, and I keep screaming “Why? Why?!”, and next week I’ll come right back for more.
As with any addiction, the stress is taking years off my life.
October 24, 2015
Cold, Colors, and Candy
As published first in the Kendallville Mall:
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
Slightly Off the Mark
Unless you’re one of those people of questionable sanity who likes cold weather, October has little to offer Hoosiers except autumn colors and Halloween.
But by Halloween the leaves have usually fallen and the days are short. This gives me a feeling of bleakness and dread that … come to think of it, bleakness and dread are very Halloweenie.
But no matter how you feel about the weather (it stinks), Halloween is the beginning of snack season. Through Thanksgiving and Christmas and on to Valentine’s Day, we get to pack on a nice layer of fat against the cold.
It doesn’t really help. But what the heck, any excuse for chocolate.
As with most things, Halloween is more fun to kids. These days I’m expected to turn on my porch light and give candy to other people. I’d rather hide in the dark and let the dog scare off anyone who approaches. There’s a cocoa shortage, people—chocolate charity begins at home.
But when I was younger, it was one of the highlights of the year. In elementary school we’d spend October making decorations of ghosts, witches, and of course pumpkins with scary faces.
I wonder if that’s allowed, these days? They’ve probably banned that kind of stuff from public schools, along with cardboard pilgrims and anything Christmas. I liked the pilgrims, although even then I knew they’d be toast without Squanto and his corn crop (not that they had any toast).
Where was I? Oh yeah—candy. My family didn’t exactly hand out candy like candy … back then treats were, well, a treat. But on one glorious night we could collect enough candy to keep us going until Thanksgiving.
It wasn’t seen as a dangerous holiday, at the time. (This would be in the 70s. No, wait. Let’s change that to the 80s. Yeah, the 80s.) On the contrary, this was the night when it was quite literally okay to take candy from strangers.
Our dad would load us into the back of his El Camino for a trip to the store, which had highly flammable costumes and masks that rendered us mostly blind, then—
Oh, the El Camino? Well, it’s kind of a half car, half pickup truck. We didn’t worry about belting into the too-small front, because there were no seat belts.
Anyway, we waited until it got pitch dark and then hit the streets, methodically knocking on every door. Sometimes we’d get apples, which was not exactly a jump for joy moment. Packaged candy was okay, but the really nice people would make things from scratch, like those wonderful popcorn balls or caramel apples—which beat plain apples hands down.
The only glitch I remember is when we reached the home of a deaf old fellow who had no idea it was Halloween. He was probably the guy who later invented the idea of only trick or treating at homes with porch lights on. Or, maybe he was hoarding his chocolate.
Just as our parents passed out the last of their candy, we got home with more candy. It was important to eat the homemade stuff, like caramel apples and popcorn balls, first. If you weren’t too much of a glutton, you could string the rest along for weeks.
The times were so much less dangerous.
Now, some of you might be horrified by this. Some might smile at the exaggeration, then be horrified to discover it wasn’t an exaggeration: That’s the way it happened for some of us in the small towns of the mid-70s—I mean, 80s. This was a time when, if we did something stupid like walk in the middle of the street, our parents would get three phone calls and be standing at the front door by the time we made it home. When everyone knows everyone else, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds on paper.
We did know about the dangers, as shown in the very first short story I ever had published, in the late … 80s. It was about a hungry vampire who drinks his own blood after biting down on a razor blade inside a Halloween apple. If anyone still has that old copy of the Central Noble High School Cat Tracks, you’ll find the story to be very, very bad.
Just the same, the worst thing we ever experienced was a tummy ache.
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
Slightly Off the Mark
Unless you’re one of those people of questionable sanity who likes cold weather, October has little to offer Hoosiers except autumn colors and Halloween.
But by Halloween the leaves have usually fallen and the days are short. This gives me a feeling of bleakness and dread that … come to think of it, bleakness and dread are very Halloweenie.
But no matter how you feel about the weather (it stinks), Halloween is the beginning of snack season. Through Thanksgiving and Christmas and on to Valentine’s Day, we get to pack on a nice layer of fat against the cold.
It doesn’t really help. But what the heck, any excuse for chocolate.
As with most things, Halloween is more fun to kids. These days I’m expected to turn on my porch light and give candy to other people. I’d rather hide in the dark and let the dog scare off anyone who approaches. There’s a cocoa shortage, people—chocolate charity begins at home.
But when I was younger, it was one of the highlights of the year. In elementary school we’d spend October making decorations of ghosts, witches, and of course pumpkins with scary faces.
I wonder if that’s allowed, these days? They’ve probably banned that kind of stuff from public schools, along with cardboard pilgrims and anything Christmas. I liked the pilgrims, although even then I knew they’d be toast without Squanto and his corn crop (not that they had any toast).
Where was I? Oh yeah—candy. My family didn’t exactly hand out candy like candy … back then treats were, well, a treat. But on one glorious night we could collect enough candy to keep us going until Thanksgiving.
It wasn’t seen as a dangerous holiday, at the time. (This would be in the 70s. No, wait. Let’s change that to the 80s. Yeah, the 80s.) On the contrary, this was the night when it was quite literally okay to take candy from strangers.
Our dad would load us into the back of his El Camino for a trip to the store, which had highly flammable costumes and masks that rendered us mostly blind, then—
Oh, the El Camino? Well, it’s kind of a half car, half pickup truck. We didn’t worry about belting into the too-small front, because there were no seat belts.
Anyway, we waited until it got pitch dark and then hit the streets, methodically knocking on every door. Sometimes we’d get apples, which was not exactly a jump for joy moment. Packaged candy was okay, but the really nice people would make things from scratch, like those wonderful popcorn balls or caramel apples—which beat plain apples hands down.
The only glitch I remember is when we reached the home of a deaf old fellow who had no idea it was Halloween. He was probably the guy who later invented the idea of only trick or treating at homes with porch lights on. Or, maybe he was hoarding his chocolate.
Just as our parents passed out the last of their candy, we got home with more candy. It was important to eat the homemade stuff, like caramel apples and popcorn balls, first. If you weren’t too much of a glutton, you could string the rest along for weeks.
The times were so much less dangerous.
Now, some of you might be horrified by this. Some might smile at the exaggeration, then be horrified to discover it wasn’t an exaggeration: That’s the way it happened for some of us in the small towns of the mid-70s—I mean, 80s. This was a time when, if we did something stupid like walk in the middle of the street, our parents would get three phone calls and be standing at the front door by the time we made it home. When everyone knows everyone else, it’s not as dangerous as it sounds on paper.
We did know about the dangers, as shown in the very first short story I ever had published, in the late … 80s. It was about a hungry vampire who drinks his own blood after biting down on a razor blade inside a Halloween apple. If anyone still has that old copy of the Central Noble High School Cat Tracks, you’ll find the story to be very, very bad.
Just the same, the worst thing we ever experienced was a tummy ache.
