Halloweens

When I was a kid, we used to go out trick-or-treating starting two days before October 31. It was just accepted, I guess, that you could go door-to-door and get candy on October 29 and October 30 as well as October 31. Some kids didn't even wear costumes until October 31. They just knocked on your door two days before Halloween and got candy. Do they still do this anywhere?

I remember one Halloween when Tim was really young and there was a torrential rainstorm that night. I went door-to-door with the boy (I love to say "the boy"), and he got candy and I got drenched. I didn't mind a bit.

My rock band once played a Halloween party in my hometown, and the best costume that night (and one of the best I've ever seen) was six guys walking together dressed as a six-pack of Genesee. Brilliant.

I used to play in the marching band in junior high school and high school, and our town had a Mummer's parade on Halloween night. The band always had to march in the parade, and I remember it was always really, really cold. The spit would freeze dripping out of the spit valves on the trumpets and trombones. It could be 75 degrees in the days leading up to Halloween, but it was always freezing for the damn parade.

You always hear the stories about evil people putting poison or razor blades in candy at Halloween. Did this every really happen or is this an urban legend? My money's on the urban legend.

Anyway, Happy Halloween to both of my readers. Stay out of the rain, don't let your spit valves freeze, and watch out for razor blades in your Hershey Kisses.

Happy Birthday, Coach Wooden

It's my annual Happy Birthday wish to Coach John Wooden, one of my heroes. He's a philosopher, a poet, and a generous soul whose wisdom and grace has influenced people on and off the basketball court for over 70 years. I just missed a chance to see and hear the guy speak at a little church in our neighborhood about a year ago, and I understand it was packed. There's not much that would get me to go to church these days, but if it was to see and hear Coach Wooden, I'd be there.

Happy Birthday, Coach. May you have many, many more.

Catching Up

Just thought I'd catch up on a few things I wrote about in the past (largely because I'm too unimaginative to come up with anything new at the moment).

In "Waterspouts And Tigers" (February 2005) I wrote about my battery-operated desk clock that spontaneously started running backwards and how I thought my backwards-running clock was holding the universe together. Well, the damn thing ran backwards for about 6 months and then stopped. When I changed the batteries, it ran normally again, and the universe didn't end. To my astonishment and delight, last week it started running backwards again. This makes me very happy and gives me hope for all of mankind.

In "Dammit" (January 2005) I wrote about Francis the homeless guy who dresses better than I do. I hadn't seen Francis for a while, but he started showing up again a couple of weeks ago. The guy looks pretty darn good. Maybe he was out of town for the summer. This morning, he was wearing a new pair of Nike Shox running shoes and a Columbia fleece hoodie with a new JanSport backpack on his back. All this while rummaging through the dumpster looking for his lunch.

In "I Hate Music" (August 2006) I wrote that I was going to play the piano for the old folks at the assisted-living apartment down the street. Well, I finally played this past Sunday. The lobby was jam-packed, a hush came over the audience, the spotlight shone, and I began to play. Okay, there was no hush and no spotlight. Anyway, I played a bunch of old standards, a bunch of Gershwin songs, a couple of light classical pieces that went over like a lead balloon, and I butchered the Maple Leaf Rag. I got all sweaty and nervous for the first 10 minutes like it was a graded recital or something, but then it passed and I actually had fun. Everyone seemed to like it and invited me back, although I haven't gotten paid yet, so maybe I wasn't as good as I thought I was.

In "More Neighbors" (March 2006) I wrote about our new neighbor, the actress Xian Xiong. Well, Xian stayed for about a month and then surreptitiously moved out and secretly advertised the apartment in a local rental newspaper as if she herself owned it and ended up renting the place to some unlucky guy who thought it was hers to rent and didn't know that it's illegal to sublet an apartment in Santa Monica. Now the poor schmuck, who's actually a nice guy, has been served eviction papers, and Xian Xiong has been sued by the apartment building's owner, who happens to be the biggest commercial real estate owner in the Los Angeles area and has deep, deep pockets and dozens of attorneys on staff. Serves that Xian Xiong right, dammit.

In "Sneakers I've Loved" (Novermber 2005) I wrote about my beloved gold Adidas Campus sneakers. Well, they finally wore out, and I had to throw 'em away and break out the new navy blue ones (I mistakenly said they were black). It damn near broke my heart to throw the gold ones away, but there was a hole in them, and it was time. I had a simple but dignified ceremony, and into the dumpster they went. I thought about giving them to Francis, but his sneakers are always much nicer than mine.