Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 36

Mad Monster Party at Casa di Rodan

The house is prepped and darkness is falling. It’s been a good many years since Casa di Rodan has played host to a big ol’ Halloween bash, so Ms. B. and I up and threw one. About twenty folks came around — geocachers, friends from Martinsville, and some local folks — so we had a very full house. So far, it hasn't fallen through the earth’s crust, though I’m not sure we came through it entirely unscathed...

Anyhoo, it was great fun. Perhaps we’ll do it again next year. Sarah the Witch and an ornery old cuss L: Captain Spaulding himself decided to pop in; R: Debbie and Pete, smokin’! Do not cross Bob & Yvonne, or you may not live to regret it. L: mad magician and — who’s this? — it’s Dr. Gaki! R: Dr. Deathenbaker and his lovely ghoulfriend Sarah the Witch and Red Riding Hood are amok, amok, amok! L: “Open wide and say “Oh my gaaaahhhd!’” R: “Try my poison, why don’t you?” Like mother, like—OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! The ornery old cuss puts the bite on our sweet young witch. The feeding frenzy begins. Wonder who’s on the menu? Maybe the smiling people in the photo below? Don’t turn around... the ghoulies are in town!

Rising Sun Reruns Is in the House!

Another contributor copy popped into my mailbox this week — this one a lovely volume from Becky Books titled Rising Sun Reruns , edited by Jim Beard. My essay, “Bacon, Eggs, Toast, and Ultraman” — believe it or not — is about growing up with Ultraman, at least during those rare spells when I was able to watch Ultraman as a young’un.

“From the 1960s to the 1990s, children in the West were gifted with a bounty of amazing TV shows to watch and enjoy — but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy their voracious appetites for adventure! It took the immigration of imported shows from the East to fill their afternoons with all the fun and fantasy they craved!

“Grab a TV tray and hunker down with a group of grown-up kids as they reminisce about their favorite Japanese TV shows of yore! In these pages, you will find glowing memories of flights of fancy such as Ultraman , Johnny Sokko and His Flying Robot , Astro Boy , Battle of the Planets , Space Giants , Speed Racer , Robotech , and many, many more—including a few you may never even heard of!

“Writer-editor Jim Beard adds to his Memories from Today's Grown-Up Kids series of pop culture nostalgia books with  Rising Sun Reruns , a tantalizing trip into the past when discovering a strange show from Japan alongside your other favorite series was not a weird thing at all…it was downright wonderful!” Order Rising Sun Reruns from Amazon.com here!

One Bleepin’ Year Ago, Wot?!

It hardly seems proper — or possible — that an entire year has passed since Ms. B. and I stood on the balcony of our apartment overlooking the Cannaregio Canal in Venice saying silly things like “I do” in front of friends Terry and Beth. While our “legal” anniversary is in June, the “real” ceremony, as far as we’re concerned, took place on October 19, 2021, on that balcony. Terry was specially ordained for the task, and he truly made our experience personalized and unique to us.

Last night, we celebrated our first “real” anniversary with Terry and Beth at Kau, a relatively newish restaurant here in Greensboro at Revolution Mill. We were quite taken with the place and the experience. How delightful to find that bottles of wine are half-price on Wednesdays (and they had Jeff Runquist 1448, which is one of our favorite red blends). The “Hot House” burger I had was wonderful. Brugger went for Buffalo chicken mac & cheese, which made her almost as happy as saying “I do.”
We also opened a couple of bottles we’d brought back from Europe — one from France (a red blend from Chasson Vignoble ) and one from Italy (an Amarone from Coali ). So, our anniversary celebration might not have been as exciting and wonderful as a trip to Venice, but it certainly hit the notes that needed hitting.
Ms. B. and I hope to celebrate a good many more of these milestones. So beware! Kau’s “Hot House” burger — bacon, pepper jack cheese, jalapenos, spicy ketchup. Hardly
a nuclear threat, but quite delicious. Happy adversity to us!

Death’s Garden Revisited Is in the House

My contributor copy of Death’s Garden Revisited  has arrived. It’s a beautiful, profusely illustrated volume featuring forty essays about personal relationships with graveyards & cemeteries, edited by Loren Rhoads. My essay is titled “The Treasure Hunter” — and some of you might be able to guess what that’s about...
“Death’s Garden Revisited collects forty powerful personal essays — accompanied by full-color photographs — to illuminate the reasons people visit cemeteries. Spanning the globe from Iceland to Argentina and from Portland to Prague, Death’s Garden Revisited explores the complex web of relationships between the living and those who have passed before.

“Genealogists and geocachers, travelers and tour guides, anthropologists, historians, pagan priestesses, and ghost hunters all venture into cemeteries in these essays. Along the way, they discover that cemeteries don’t only provide a rewarding end to a pilgrimage, they can be the perfect location for a first date or a wedding, the highlight of a family vacation, a cure for depression, and the best possible place to grasp history. Not to mention that cemetery-grown fruit is the sweetest.”
Check out Death’s Garden Revisited here.

Sabbatical 2: Return to Georgia

A nice evening view from what must surely be the only traffic-free road anywhere near Gainesville In early spring of this year, I spent a few days in Gainesville, GA, where my mom grew up; where my folks met and got married; and where, at my grandparents’ place, I spent some of the most heavenly days of my youth (see “Sabbatical,” March 1, 2022 ). That trip largely involved researching my Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill, which is now long finished and in the queue for publication by Crossroad Press. Since then, I’ve made the virtual acquaintance of fellow author Leverett Butts, who lives in the Gainesville area and with whom I’ll be sharing the contents page of the upcoming Kolchak: The Night Stalker  anthology from Moonstone Books. During these past few months, I’ve been craving a return to my Georgia stomping grounds, so, this week, I’m heading back to do some further stomping. And come Wednesday, I anticipate meeting Mr. Butts in the flesh.
Monday, October 10, 2022
It wasn’t much past dawn that I rose this morning (with considerable help from a passel of cats). I had packed up last night, so there was little for me to do other than shower, feed animals, kiss Ms. B., and hit the road. Counting stops to eat, pee, and geocache (plus a few minor traffic hold-ups), it was about a six and a half–hour drive down; fairly typical for the 300-plus-mile trip. This time, I did the unthinkable: I made no special stops for geocaches until I was only a few miles from Gainesville (though I did grab a couple when I stopped for lunch around Anderson, SC). Traffic was heavy the whole way, which was hardly unexpected since traffic is always heavy on I-85. And let me tell you: there cannot possibly be a trucker shortage any longer, for there was no way one more truck could have fit on the highway between NC and GA. My god, it was wall-to-wall, and at times nerve-wracking.
Once here, I checked into the Ramada/Wyndham hotel, which is where I stayed on my previous sojourn. It's comfortable, reasonably priced, and as conveniently located as any hotel can be in Gainesville. At Tino’s , the Mexican restaurant on the premises, I grabbed a trio of excellent street tacos. Sadly, they no longer had the brisket tacos that sent me over the moon the last time I was here, but no matter; these made me happy, as did the large jalapeno margarita chaser. The very large guardian of one of the geocaches I found
on the way into Gainesville this afternoon 
Unfortunately, by way of my previous visits to Gainesville, geocaching-wise, I have about cleaned up the town — certainly everything within walking distance of the hotel. Still, one does not undertake a sabbatical such as this one without geocaching, so, just as the sun began to set, I got in the car and hit the southern outskirts of town. I found several caches, many of which were along a nice, all-but-deserted road near the airport. And what a fuckin’ relief to find some respite from the blasted traffic here! After caching, I parked my car on the street in front of my grandparents’ old house and set out walking around the neighborhood, which skirts the edge of downtown. Almost unconsciously, I ended up retracing one of the routes I regularly walked as a youngster. While much of Gainesville has become almost unrecognizable, there’s just enough of that old neighborhood left to retain some of the magic it once held for me. I quite enjoyed the lovely evening trek, which netted me a couple of (much-needed) miles of hoofing it.
Tomorrow, I’m planning to visit my old alma mater — the University of Georgia in Athens — and get in some serious geocaching, for caches in Athens there certainly are. Do not think for one minute I'm not serious about this. Sign found at the restaurant where
I had lunch in Anderson, SC. I need one of these. One fine dinner The GA Dept. of Veteran's Services building. Close to my grandparents' old house,
it stands out as one of my most vividly remembered buildings in town Paul Smith Cleaners on Bradford St. Sadly, it's no longer in operation. Paul Smith was one of my great uncles. My great-aunt Julia — Uncle Paul's sister — worked there when I was little. Tuesday, October 11, 2022

I think that, for today, I am altogether done with both walking and peopling.

According to my handy-dandy health app, I walked over seven miles, mostly on campus, and my little doggies are feeling it. And according to my Fed-Up-With-Humanity meter, I threw myself in with more human beings per square yard than even when Brugger and I spent several days in Chicago back in May.
This is not to say I didn’t enjoy myself; I had a fine time of it. I hit the road about 8:00 a.m. this morning and arrived in Athens roughly an hour later. My first destination was a concentration of geocaches in the neighborhood where I lived during the summer of 1980. It was and still is an attractive area, but that was not a happy time for me. The place had no air conditioning (and that was one fucking HOT summer), and the house ended up constantly overrun by teenage redneck assholes whom my drug-addled roommates unilaterally decided to give free rein. I wish circumstances had been better then because it really was a cool place (other than temperature-wise) in a lovely setting. Outwardly, at least, the house and grounds haven’t changed at all — though I kinda hope the folks who live there now have central air.
Once I’d found a few caches in that area, I headed down to the University of Georgia campus. Although I can’t say my university experience was everything it could and should have been (mostly thanks to less-than-sound decisions made by your humble narrator), I do have many pleasant and vivid recollections of those days. But holy cowz has the population density gone through the roof. Again, this is hardly unexpected, but the rigors of getting around campus without being run over — either by vehicles or by students on foot and/or other modes of transportation — are considerably more daunting than forty-some years ago. (This, by the way, is not because I’m slowing down in my old age; my typical pace tends to prompt young and old alike to holler “Would you please slow the fuck down?!”)
I certainly saw more of the UGA campus today than I did in my two-and-a-half years as a student there. Between the stages of several Adventure Labs, a couple of virtual caches, and a slew of physical caches, I explored numerous nooks and crannies I never would have had any reason to explore back in the day (although it’s not out of the question that I actually did visit some of these places while in a drug-induced fog). I stopped in at the old School of the Arts building, which is now the School of Something Else, but its confines are still largely familiar. As a student, I shared numerous art classes with Mike Stipe of REM, and though we were hardly close friends, we did have a few interesting conversations now and then.
I found a first-class lunch at Trappeze Pub — a bacon jalapeno burger with fries and a locally brewed IPA, which I liked a lot, though its name eludes me at the moment. I followed that up with a bit more walking and caching until my phone battery damn near gave up the ghost. Eventually, I hoofed it (on sore feet), back to the car, and spent the next thirty-some minutes trying to get the hell out of Dodge... er, Athens. Along the way, I passed The Taco Stand , which is one of the few familiar local establishments that’s still around after all these years. Back when, I always enjoyed going there, although — no joke! — one was guaranteed to suffer a rumbly tumbly for a spell following a Taco Stand meal. This evening, I did not stop in.
By the time I arrived back at my digs in Gainesville, I had pretty much made up my mind to stay inside for the evening. I doubt seriously my little feetz are up for any more hoofin’ it.
Tomorrow, it looks like rain in the forecast (which will suck), but I’m very much looking forward to meeting Lev Butts. I’m still hoping to get in some caching in the morning, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise... Oglethorpe House, the dorm I lived in between 1979 and 1980. Things have changed quite a bit
around the old place. Sanford Stadium. I saw a lot of football games there when Herschel Walker was the team star
and had a reasonably valid purpose in life... quite unlike today. A lovely lunch from Trappeze Pub The old School of the Arts building, where I earned my two-thirds irrelevant Bachelor of Fine Arts degree The Taco Stand — still rumbling tumblies after all these years Wednesday, October 12, 2002 Old horror writer with not-so-old Leverett Butts at the Smoke House restaurant just outside of Gainesville Well, the creek did rise, but I guess the lord was willin’ because I got up fairly early (thanks largely to an alarm of some sort going off nearby) and headed straight out for some geocaching. Thankfully, the rain was intermittent and not very heavy. I set my sights on the Oakwood area, a few miles southwest of Gainesville, near the local campus of the University of North Georgia, where friend Leverett teaches. We had a 1:00 p.m. lunch date at the  Smoke House  BBQ restaurant, but he had suggested that, if time permitted, I might stop in at his office earlier in the morning. So, I snagged a few caches along the way, located his office, and proceeded to make a pest of myself. We chatted for an hour or so, and then he had a meeting to attend. I still had a few nearby caches nearby to attend to, including a trio on the nature trail there at the university, so off I went. I found two of the three (the third is almost certainly missing), as well as a peculiar thingummy high up in a tree (see photo below), which I suspect is meant to be “art.” Who knows, though? It could just as easily be something nefarious, such as a disguised beacon for the Martian invasion force or something such. If the Martians land in Gainesville with their fighting machines and deadly black smoke, well, we’ll know why, won’t we? Another of the lovely, big honking Joro spiders
that now populate this area
At the appointed hour, Lev and I met at the Smoke House, and... oh lord... the smoked dead cow was heavenly. H-E-A-V-E-N-L-Y. After lunch, we sat out on the restaurant’s front porch and shot the shit for most of another hour. Talk about a much-needed tonic! Both as writers and as reasonably human-type people, we have an awful lot in common, and our meeting was surely the highlight of this trip.
The geocaching highlight, at least so far, was a multi called “ Six Feet Under ” ( GC22KDP ). The first stage takes you to a graveyard on a little-traveled road and then to an old tunnel at an abandoned business park. I tell you, it’s tough to beat a graveyard and a tunnel as stages of a single cache. Now, it’s not a deep or long tunnel, but hey... it’s underground, secluded, and dark. My kind of place. Finding the cache proved to be a somewhat unexpected challenge, but find it I did. So... yay! I also found some incredible mud dauber nests — huge and complex, like nothing I’ve ever seen back home. And spiders... oh, yes, there are spiders. Big, colorful orb weavers, called Joro spiders; quite beautiful they are, even to this former arachnophobe. Apparently, they are relatively recent arrivals to the area, originally from Japan. Since they appear to thrive here, it’s likely they’ll eventually migrate to North Carolina. No complaints from me, since... unlike the burgeoning masses of humanity... they’re harmless and likely good for the environment.
After “Six Feet Under,” I grabbed a handful of other caches, but since the day was getting long in the tooth, I decided to pack it in, hoping against hope that I might beat a miserable rush-hour traffic experience. Well, the time of day clearly matters not a whit here anymore. As I have elucidated in no small detail, the traffic in Gainesville has become so ungodly I’m afraid such a ridiculous concentration of human beings in a relatively small area is going to shift the mass of the planet to an unsustainable degree and the earth is going to go spinning straight into the sun. Thank you, motherfuckers. Thank you all so bloody freaking much.
I put just over two miles on the feetz today. While they were still a little miffed about yesterday’s big walk, at least they didn’t give me any grief or complain about being abused this go-round. Who knows, though... tomorrow is another day and there are still lots of caches to hike after.
I’ll be back.
L: No, I do not know what that thing up in the tree is supposed to be (art, I suspect). I found it along the nature trail behind The University of North Georgia at Gainesville; R: A mud dauber nest in the tunnel at "Six Feet Under." This sucker measured well over two feet from top to bottom

Thursday, October 12, 2022 A view of Lake Lanier from the trail at Lanier Point Park For my last full day in Gainesville, for better or for worse, I decided against pursuing a couple of possible social interactions at my disposal. I hope no one might feel slighted by my choice, but currently, this mostly solitary venture is something I believe I need. Here in Georgia, I feel a sense of connection — or perhaps reconnection — with what I can only describe as ghosts of people and places from my past, yet I feel they’re fading with time. This is a very personal thing to me, and I find myself wanting to experience the fullness of these “ghosts” while I still can. I hope I don’t regret not getting together again with my first cousin once removed, as they say, but right now, this choice feels necessary and proper.
I kicked off the morning by visiting Inman Perk Coffee Shop on the Square, a short walk from my hotel. A fine café au lait, and then it was off to the northwestern corner of town and Lanier Point Park , which offers a couple of scenic hiking trails along the shores of Lake Sidney Lanier . On my four-mile trek à pied, I found seven caches, a stairway to nowhere, and... a sudden moment of anxiety when I thought I had lost my extra battery pack for my phone. Happily, I had not (apparently, I had absent-mindedly put it back in the car between the first and second legs of the hike). Several times, the sky spat a little rain, but overall, the weather was pleasant, with an occasional balmy breeze. I didn’t encounter another living soul on the trail, which made for a relaxing experience in the woods.
Since Brugger and I discovered Southern Recess Gastro Pub in Spring 2012, dining there is a personal priority whenever I’m in Gainesville. I had originally thought I might have dinner there tonight, but since this morning’s breakfast consisted of a few grapes and the hike had flung a fair craving for vittles upon me, I decided to head there for lunch. A damned good martini (x2) and the bleu cheese burger of the gods satisfied the craving. Typical of my experiences at Southern Recess, the food, drink, and service were all first-rate.
So far on this trip, I’ve claimed just over fifty caches, and I’ll probably snag a few more before it’s all said and done. Spending this time outdoors, whether on wooded trails, on the campus of the University of Georgia, or in random, odd corners of Gainesville, I’ve found so many “new” and wonderful places I otherwise never would have. If you’re not a geocacher, you likely won’t relate, but this is how I achieve that crucial zen, and — going back to the first paragraph of today’s entry — it feels not just desirable but necessary.
Tomorrow, I’ll be heading back home. This trip has been invigorating, relaxing, satisfying, and — on occasion — stressful. Time changes all things, of course, and Gainesville has certainly changed in the decades since I spent so much time here. I don’t find much of it positive. There are many newer, highly desirable amenities, and, in some areas, substantial remnants of the pleasant, low-key town I’ve always treasured still exist. Yet, to a greater extent, this place is nothing more than an overpopulated extension of Atlanta, with traffic ills the likes of which even the NC Triad doesn’t yet suffer (although if developers have their way, it won’t be much longer until it’s equally awful, and developers always have their way). Here, just driving a few blocks involves more sitting than moving, and except for maybe late at night, there is literally no respite from it. More than most maladies in this life, I despise massive concentrations of human beings in too small a space, where the infrastructure was never designed for it, and all the upgrading in the world will never keep up with it. After this trip, I don’t know that I want to come back in the near future.
Sometimes “progress” is anything but, at least to those of us who prefer a quality of life that doesn’t involve playing sardine in a fucking tin can once you go out and about. Still... to me, Gainesville is truly where my family originated, and my connection to it feels deep and unbreakable. I can’t help but love this town in more than a few ways.
I’m sure I will come back. A neat little covered bridge that leads to the trail at Lanier Point Park On the bridge Another bridge, this one leading to nowhere in the middle of the woods

“It’s in the Trees! It’s Coming!”

The Halloween season at Casa di Rodan is officially underway, for the required annual viewing of Jacques Tourneur’s Night (Curse) of the Demon is complete.

It’s not as though Brugger and I don't watch scary movies pretty much all the time, but it is an unbreakable tradition to kick off the Halloween season with several of our favorites, such as John Carpenter’s The Thing; Trick R Treat; It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown; and, of course, the aforementioned Tourneur classic.

Night of the Demon  (to use its proper UK release title) remains my favorite horror movie of all time, and Friday night was its turn on the screen. It still gives me a case of the creeps, mainly from remembering how deeply the image of the critter scared me as a young ’un. And I still love that critter; whatever its imperfections, I don’t believe the movie would be the classic it is without the thing.
A few of the past week’s cinematic highlights (and low points):
Brugger and I watched Smile  at the theater the other night. We both found it needlessly heavy in the jump-scare department, but it was at times wonderfully eerie, and we liked it overall. There was 1999’s The House on Haunted Hill, which we both enjoy quite a bit (I’ll play the heretic here and admit that I prefer it to William Castle’s 1959 original). We watched the new Hellraiser on Hulu. This one had some merit, particularly in its exposition about the Lament cube, yet it still felt unremarkable and ultimately disappointing. We followed that up with the original Hellraiser, which I appreciate on a deeper level than the new one, but I can’t claim that it’s ever been a particular favorite. And we took in the original 1953 War of the Worlds last week, which I have adored since the first time it thrilled me as a seven-year-old. On my own, I watched The Houses October Built, mainly because I remembered it featured some cool haunted attractions and very creepy haunted attraction personnel. My memory was pretty accurate, and I was not disappointed.
One evening this past week, Ms. B. had a hankering to watch The Haunting from 1999, as she finds it entertaining. I hated the movie when it came out, but I was fine giving it another chance, as I have not watched it since its original release. Sadly, my opinion hasn’t changed. It’s awful. Not to fault her enjoyment of it; I can hardly claim to have no affinity for some admittedly awful movies...
The first of the season’s Halloween parties went off last night, at our friend Margaret’s place in Rural Hall. And what an affair! Margaret brought in a caterer for the food, offered beverage selections customized to attendees’ tastes, and provided various favors for the guests (fairly expensive ones, at that, and even cigars for those who might be interested). So, yeah, I indulged in a cigar (I blame Tony Tremblay for stoking that long-dormant vice at Necon back in July).
Brugger and I will be having a little bash here at home later this month, as will friends Terry & Beth (who accompanied us to a pre-Margaret-party visit to Hanover Park Winery yesterday afternoon). There may be others.
I do have a very busy week coming up. There will be updates later, no doubt.
Boo! As a hobby, Kimberly’s dad builds these lovely miniature houses, barns, and other town buildings, which she
displays before our fireplace. Now they’re lit by Halloween lights — as they should be.  Found at Lowe’s Foods in Lewisville, NC, on our way to friend Margaret’s party. Wowz! I blame Tony Tremblay for the cigar craving. Note the lovely wine glass, courtesy of friend Margaret.

“The Spooky Place” at HWA’s “Halloween Haunts” Blog

Every October, the Horror Writers Association posts a series of Halloween-themed blogs written by members. My entry — “ The Spooky Place ” — is now live. This one chronicles the early days of Martinsville Jaycees’ Haunted Castle in the little community of Koehler, VA, back in the 1970s and ’80s, and how it help boost my fledgling career as a Very Spooky Person.
“From the mid-1970s through the 1980s, the local chapter of the Jaycees in my Virginia hometown put on an annual haunted castle event, set in a massive, abandoned warehouse in a nearby hamlet called Koehler (which could well have qualified as a real-life model for H.P. Lovecraft’s Dunwich). The old warehouse is a hulking stone monstrosity set in a forested area on the banks of the Smith River. No matter the season, the place looks like an honest-to-god haunted castle. For Halloween, one could hardly choose a more imposing and appropriate location to host a fearsome good time. From the time I first laid my youthful eyes on the old Koehler warehouse, to me, it became “‘The Spooky Place.’” Read the full article at HWA’s
“Halloween Haunts” blog here.

NEW! Death’s Garden Revisited

Death’s Garden Revisited, edited by Loren Rhoads and featuring my essay, “The Treasure Hunter,” is now available.
“Death’s Garden Revisited collects 40 powerful personal essays, accompanied by full-color photographs, to illuminate the reasons people visit cemeteries. Spanning the globe from Iceland to Argentina and from Portland to Prague, Death’s Garden Revisited explores the complex web of relationships between the living and those who have passed before.
“Genealogists and geocachers, travelers and tour guides, anthropologists, historians, pagan priestesses, and ghost hunters all venture into cemeteries in these essays. Along the way, they discover that cemeteries don’t only provide a rewarding end to a pilgrimage, they can be the perfect location for a first date or a wedding, the highlight of a family vacation, a cure for depression, and the best possible place to grasp history. Not to mention that cemetery-grown fruit is the sweetest.”
In addition to “The Treasure Hunter,” you’ll find fascinating, insightful essays by authors such as Priscilla Bettis, Rain Graves, Robert Holt, Erika Mailman, Trish Wilson, Angela Yuriko-Smith, and many others. Full-color photographs accompany each article. Available in softcover and hardcover.
Order Death’s Garden Revisited here!

NEW! Rising Sun Reruns From Becky Books

TIME FOR TOKUSATSU!
Looky, looky! On the heels of his phenomenal Dark Shadows retrospective, Running Home to Shadows , editor  Jim Beard  and publisher  Becky Books are back with Rising Sun Reruns , a new volume dedicated to those Japanese television imports from the mid-to-late Twentieth Century that glued so many of us to our small screens.

“From the 1960s to the 1990s children in the West were gifted with a bounty of amazing TV shows to watch and enjoy—but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy their voracious appetites for adventure! It took an intriguing immigration of imported shows from the East to fill their afternoons with all the fun and fantasy they craved!

“Grab a TV tray and hunker down in the family den with a group of grown-up kids as they reminisce about their favorite exotic Japanese TV shows of yore! In these pages, you will find glowing memories of flights of fancy such as Ultraman, Johnny Sokko and His Flying Robot, Astro Boy, Battle of the Planets, Space Giants, Speed Racer, Robotech, and many, many more—including a few you may never even heard of!

“Writer-editor Jim Beard adds to his Memories from Today's Grown-Up Kids series of pop culture nostalgia books with Rising Sun Reruns, a tantalizing trip into the past when discovering a strange show from Japan alongside your other favorite series was not a weird thing at all… it was downright wonderful!”

My essay, “Bacon, Eggs, Toast, & Ultraman,” showcases — you guessed it! — the original Ultraman TV series. Actor David J. Fielding, from the Power Rangers series, provides the foreword. Cover art is by Adam Benet Shaw. Available in paperback and ebook.

Order Rising Sun Reruns from
Amazon.com here!

Tales My Grandmother Told Me by Heather Miller

Chills That Span GenerationsIn Tales My Grandmother Told Me , author Heather Miller presents thirteen tales whose roots stem from one of her most valued family traditions — storytelling. As this volume’s title suggests, most of these stories are variations of tales told by Ms. Miller’s grandmother. Some of the terrors found within are supernatural in origin, while others are purely human-bred evil. As the author states in her introduction, the predominant tone is reminiscent of campfire tales — a combination of fun and fright. It’s for this reason, I believe, that many of these stories resonate strongly with me.

The book opens with “Vice,” a story in which death comes for its victims based on their personal vices — in this case, smoking. As with most of these tales, its ending is essentially inevitable, yet the narrator’s engaging style and vivid imagery overcome its predictability. Thus, the book takes off on a high note. Several more stories follow a similar path. Although it’s certainly unintentional, “Burglar Man” takes a cue from Manly Wade Wellman’s “The Desrick on Yandro,” in that greed motivates the antagonist, and, in the end, his reward could hardly be more fitting. “Cries from the Attic” is a genuine ghost story, compelling due to its creepy atmosphere. Conversely, “Up All Night” may be the tale most deeply rooted in “real-life” terror. Again, no great surprises here, but plenty of tension due to the emotional urgency Miller evokes.

I would have to call “Fiery Eyes and Bloody Bones” my favorite piece in the book. Although tales of vile cretins receiving their just deserts tend to become tiresome, once in a while, they turn out to be just the ticket. Such is the case here. It’s lengthier than most in the collection, and the characters — even young Zeke, the troublemaker in the cast — are perhaps the best drawn. “Fiery Eyes” makes for a perfect Halloween yarn, with vivid seasonal atmosphere and that gripping sense of impending doom (a dramatic aspect at which Miller again proves herself adept). As the unlikeable Zeke continually misbehaves, lies, and sets himself up for his inevitable fall, a terrifying something takes notice of him. This is just the kind of tale that scared the crap out of me at summer camp when I was a kid, when our counselors told us scary tales around the campfire at night. As the story creeps toward its conclusion — a literal countdown to doom — it’s hard not to feel sorry even for Zeke the reprobate.

Yes indeed, the best tale in the book.

“The Cold Man” also offers rich Halloween atmosphere, with a menace not too far removed from Freddy Krueger. “Beneath the Bed” shares a few “real-life” elements with “Burglar Man,” but with a bit more creepy color. And in “The Creature That Drains the Blood From the Sheep,” Miller explores the effects of fear — on individuals as well as a community — by way of a hideous critter. It’s another fairly lengthy tale, set in New Mexico. It takes its time getting to its fearsome crux; maybe a little too much time. Still, as the climax draws near, it manages to pack a fair wallop.

In “Two Heads Are Better Than One,” we have what might — or might not — be a bloody chronicle of a psychotic break. The story’s apt, nightmarish coda elevates this one beyond the inevitability of its climax.

Another favorite in the book, “Safe House” tells the story of the main character inheriting her grandparents’ house — as well as a frightening entity within. Miller gives her protagonist a strong emotional tie to the place (an aspect with which I readily identify) as well as a vague fear of it. Dread of darkness and that which lurks within plays a large part in the tale’s unfolding.

The last story in the volume, “Crybaby Bridge,” engagingly told in the first person, might be considered autobiographical, as Miller bases it on her personal history. At the story’s heart, we find a common trope, but the author’s compelling voice provides a sense of immediacy and authenticity. Again, the Halloween atmosphere permeates the tale — and rightly, as Halloween plays a crucial narrative role. At the end of the story, after a fashion, Miller reveals the origin of her proclivity for writing.

With Tales My Grandmother Told Me, author Miller bundles numerous previously told tales and makes them her own. While not all of them work on every level, certain stories hit on all cylinders — sometimes hard enough to blow the engine. With her appealing authorial voice, Ms. Miller, like the raconteur at a campfire gathering, offers the reader a passel of fearsome fun.

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