Boo!

During the Halloween Season we spend a lot of time getting scared by other people’s imagination.  Yet, some people think getting scared is the highlight of their entire year.  Not for me, after two cardiac stents and bypass surgery, I personally like keeping the ticker running at an even pace instead of stomping on the gas pedal on occasion.  If I want a cheap thrill I’ll just turn on CSPAN.  Not much scares me anymore, but watching The Exorcist still spooks the snot out of me.  It’s a scary mix of my own beliefs coupled with Hollywood magic.  Being scared is natural, but as we age our fears mature with us.  As we see enough things through our own lenses we realize that what scares us is life in general and not our imagination.  Still, leave a little opening for the unexplained just in case.

In college my biggest fear was not having enough credits to graduate.  You would think by senior year Notre Dame would have at least taught me how to add and subtract.  This is general math people, not bitcoin accounting.  It was a silly fear, but I still have nightmares about it.  The dream has me taking a final exam in American history which I need to pass to graduate, but I haven’t gone to class all semester.  I sit down for the final exam hoping to wing it and instead discover it’s a calculus class and I’m naked.  Some psychologists believe that fear is generated from fatigue; I’m not sure about you, but I’m not tired yet of getting dressed before going out in public.

Halloween draws out all kinds of images and stories of spooky things, some real, some imagined.  Our lake house in Ticonderoga is a peaceful spot especially in the Fall with no murky history.  Some people, however, hear voices in the kitchen late at night, but skeptics think it’s just Jameson talking.  A few weeks ago I told Diane if we hear anything we’re going to record it on our phones.  That idea got punted quicker than Allegiant Airlines cancels flights.  Nevertheless, we had a big party on Saturday and in the middle of the day, Pam, our guest from Florida came out on the deck all bugged eyed.  “You wouldn’t believe what just happened; I was walking through the dining room and that ladle of coleslaw got flung at me.”  It was a real mess in the dining room, but no logical explanation for the flying coleslaw.  I’ve thought about it some trying to guess the culprit.  Initially I imagined it was my mother annoyed we were using plastic utensils instead of silverware.  But as I chewed on it more,  I’m blaming my late father, an ND grad.  Although Pam is a scientifically grounded registered nurse, she’s an Alabama grad full of all the Roll Tide bravado.  It all makes sense, who better to trash Bama than someone or something from Notre Dame.  Go Irish.