ghosts and angels
This year I stayed at the house for Halloween to read by my quiet lonesome. The pleasant sounds of neighbors echoed across the hillside but no one really trick or treats on our street because it’s too steep. Instead, everyone heads up to the very grand, decked-out haunted houses between St. Joseph Parish and 15th Avenue East where the people with old money (along with the nouveau riche dot-commers) throw rollicking good block parties (they hand out the same bad candy as everyone else). Adam spent the evening trick or treating with a couple of friends, up there. Oliver Fern wanted me to stay home so he could have his mother all to himself, goodness gracious was I ever happy to oblige as I’m not much of a Halloween enthusiast (although I enjoy helping the boys brainstorm their costumes into being and they have me to thank for their jack o’ lantern-carving skills). When everyone got home later it was fun hearing stories about various school chums or neighbors they’d run into. Oliver even trick or treated at his first grade teacher’s house, her husband was a fine ballplayer for the Seattle Mariners, the only Major League Baseball team to never reach the World Series (though I really believe the Expos should be included in that category no matter what anyone says which is the inevitable can of worms debate-expanderizer).
This is a view from high subalpine in the Olympics, my original intention was to share this ghostly scene on Halloween night by itself and shut my overactive bear-trap for a change but then it didn’t set right somehow to be impugning the workings of Mother Nature for nothing else but a clash of air temperatures yet certain polls regularly demonstrate half of Americans believe ghosts and angels are real but I’m not getting into the finer points of the matter. Let me leave you with this, Adam came up here with me, the two of us walked many miles that day and climbed the equivalent of a thousand Empire State Buildings, not once did he let on about being in any sort of misery. Until the way down, that is. Now then we joined forces in that department. What a grand suffering it was, my oldest he really is an angel.