Month: October 2023

  • The Pumpkin Blaze

    There is an annual Autumn/Halloween event that my family takes part in, which is The Great Jack O’Lantern Blaze at Croton-on-Hudson. My wife was the one who found out about it, and when my parents came to visit back in 2017, she got tickets for all of us. It was perfect for everyone, as we were new parents with a one year old, and the pumpkins were just flashing lights to our daughter, and that captivated her attention. And for my folks, it was just enough walking, and also something rather unique that they didn’t have in Texas. After walking through the Blaze, we drove down to Tarrytown for dinner, and then showed my parents the real Sleepy Hollow, along with the bridge and the Old Dutch Church of Headless Horseman fame. Since then, we try to make it out to The Blaze every year.

    This year was no different. Got tickets, and made plans with another family to all go together. Like most years, things happened and we left late. Traffic was awful getting out of the city. We were all late getting to the restaurant, and had to eat quickly. Luckily, the kids were all in a good mood – no melt downs.

    And it was worth it. The kid is getting old enough now that none of the jack o’lantens are scary to her, and even some of the joke carved pumpkins she gets and finds funny. There is still enough innocent excitement with her there that makes the experience special, and also transforms Halloween into more than one night of fun, but a season of events. (We apple pick, and visit a pumpkin patch as part of our Halloween traditions as well.)

    For me, I enjoy this night of being close to Sleepy Hollow, and the historic location where The Blaze takes place. Something about driving home through the woods of Westchester county, knowing that somewhere out there the Horseman is supposed to ride, and like clockwork every year, the kid asks from the backseat if Ichabod was a real person who escaped from that ghost. And then there is the connection of The Blaze being an event my mom was able to do with my family. We only got three years with her, to do grandma things, and let her shower her youngest granddaughter with attention. The kid has virtually no memories left with her Mim, but I have this one. And though my daughter doesn’t remember doing it, she was one after all, but she knows that it happened. We just continue on the tradition.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Blame the Mother, Khaki Pants, and Things I was Wrong About

    (Sugar Ray say…)

    Last night I was having drinks with a friend, and old friend from high school, so we have known each other forever. We got on the topic of parental roles, as she feels that as a mother, she inevitably always gets blamed by her kid for everything. (Our kids are pretty close in age.) I don’t think she’s wrong, mom’s do take the brunt of blame, at least that’s what my mom claimed all the time. But, I wondered if one’s parental role plays a factor? My friend and her husband both work, and split equally parenting their kid; both cook, clean, do laundry, do homework, go to playdates, and dance classes…etc. While in our household, my wife works, and I take care of the kid and home. So, I feel like I take the brunt of blame from the kid, which I attribute to spending the most time being with the kid on a given day. As such, our discussion fell along those lines; is parental blame due to gender roles, or quantity of time spent with the kid? I don’t think there is a clear answer to this other than when our kids do something right, the first person they thank is always mom.

    I have to buy khaki pants soon. The pants have seen better days, as I purchased them right before Covid. (Because Covid is a designation of time, and not just an event.) I used to never own khaki pants. Like, went out of my way not to own any. I think it was due to those stupid GAP swing dancing commercials in the 90’s. (I wonder how many of those people in that commercial are now teaching dance classes?) Then I job a job, and I started wearing a tie, and a sports coat, and I got khaki pants to go along with the whole thing. Now, I have the same number of khaki pants as I do jeans. Funny how life changes you.

    Speaking of which…

    I can admit now that I was wrong about a couple of things:

    1. Sugar Ray
    2. The Texas Rangers this Season
    3. Jasper Johns

  • Distracted and Memories

    Sometimes I get ahead on my blog writing, and can put a couple of posts “in the can” and schedule them to go up on my site later in the week. Most of the time, I write a blog post on the fly. An idea will come into my head in the morning, and when I get a minute later in the day, I hammer it out and put it up. This might be obvious to most of you due to the amount of type-o’s and awful uses of grammar.

    Today, I lacked an idea in the morning, and went through the normal routine of trying to come up with something. I read the news, checked out social media, and talked to the wife, but nothing was sticking. My last-ditch effort was to go on Wikipedia and see if something was there.

    Did you know that on this day, the US Department of Justice acquired the military prison on Alcatraz Island, which would become Alcatraz Prison? Then I started reading about the failed escape attempt from Alcatraz. You know, the one Escape from Alcatraz was based off of.

    And it all reminded me of taking the ferry from Larkspur to San Francisco, which runs by Angel Island, Alcatraz and Treasure Island. I mean, the ferry doesn’t get that close to Alcatraz, but close enough to know what it is, and see the prison buildings.

    It was a great ferry trip on the water, and I made the trip four times, once at night, which was pretty amazing; The lights of San Francisco, and the whole Bay area; The stars, and the sound of the waves. I will probably never ride the Larkspur ferry again, though it is there in my memory as one of the happier moments in my life, while also being one of the worst years of my life.

    It had only been six months since my mother’s passing, and I was in the Bay area trying to live my life, even though there was this huge hole in my soul that just left me feeling sad all the time. But I kept trying to push forward, to keep living and experiencing life. And I knew while it was happening, being on that ferry and watching/feeling the fog begin to roll in, that this was something unique; a moment worth experiencing; Seeing and doing something new. And it was special. But tinged with the melancholy of knowing that I was doing it all alone.

  • Short Story Review: “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello

    (The short story “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello appeared in the October 16th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Anna Morrison

    I love short stories, just in case you weren’t aware. It’s an art form that has an endless well-spring of inspiration and creativity due to the uniqueness of each and every author who attempts to create a story. And I also know that a story can be well written and honest, and at the same time, not be my cup of tea. It is not the fault of the author or the story, as I feel I can objectively read a story, understand and appreciate its qualities, and also know that the story isn’t for me.

    “The Choc-Ice Woman” by Mary Costello is a good story. It’s well written, honest, smart, pulls in many different ideas, synthesizing them into a cohesive through line, which arrives at a conclusion that is satisfying for what the story was attempting to accomplish. But the story didn’t resonate with me, when I felt that it should have.

    I spent time contemplating this, even re-read the story, and I can’t fault Costello or the piece. Perhaps it is a tad long (I’ll talk about that in a minute) but it never felt like the story was wasting my time. Which has led me to believe that the fault lies with my stars, and not the piece or the author. Thus I am feeling disappointed in myself.

    “The Choc-Ice Woman” deals with failure, infidelity, loss, death, even love, forgiveness and acceptance. All good themes when it comes to a short story, and it should be read, which is why I am recommending it. The story is structured with a present timeline which is interspersed with flashbacks, thoughts and insights of past events and characters thus building up the dramatic tension of the present timeline. This structure is handled smartly and works effectively. There is a strong feeling of pathos and loss in the story that never overwhelms the narrative, no wallowing here, but felt more like the melancholy that it is to be an adult who has made decisions in life; where regret is never too far away.

    And still I felt detached from it all, but that’s on me, and I can admit that.

    (The last thing that I do want to say about the piece is that it does take it’s time, and I like that Costello did that. I have a very bad feeling that if a student, or member of a writer’s workshop, had brought this in, it would be critiqued to death for being too long. I would like to stand up and say that writers should take their time, and not rush things. I feel short fiction is being done to death with “cutting to the chase,” or eliminating all details for the sake of making stories move faster – as if speed of narrative makes your writing better. Or simplifying down to the edge nothingness is more meaningful – sometimes less is actually less. Have courage writers! Be not afraid to write more and take your time!)

  • Edgy

    I guess it was this weekend, that I started to notice that I was getting edgy. The wife refers to it as “being feisty” because I find reasons to argue over little things. It’s not like they are real arguments, more like just contradictory comments – never ending comments. Either way, it gets on people’s nerves.

    And it first, I don’t know why everything is rubbing me the wrong way. I have a twitch in my eye and jaw, FYI. Then I look at the calendar and see that on Saturday it’s been five years since my mom’s passing.

    Now it makes sense.

    After my mom passed, I remember reading an essay about how the author was dealing with their grief, and how the week of their parent’s passing, they would find themselves angry, and lashing out. They knew why they were doing it, and even though they tried to stop it, they couldn’t.

    I feel like that. I feel I should know better, and not do it, but also, doing it feels correct.

    What I was surprised by was forgetting, or a better phrase to use would be, not remembering that my mom’s passing was coming. A little of it was avoiding the anniversary. Another bit was that I actually forgot. I went into October thinking about Fall, leaves, gourds, apple picking, and Halloween. Like you should. This was the first year where October didn’t mean “mom’s death.”

    But sub-consciously, I did know. Maybe it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind, but it was rattling around back there. It was always be there, and that’s okay.