Author: Matthew Groff

  • When Halloween Was Fun, Then It Wasn’t, Then Was Again

    The other night, my daughter was asking me a bunch of questions about what Halloween was like when I was a kid. I mean, it was only thirty-eight years ago, not like it was a million years, but it was a million years ago. When it comes to this holiday, not much has really changed; you dress up, you get a bag, knock on doors, say the magic phrase, and you get candy. There are teenagers that are too old to be Trick or Treating, in both epochs, and grownups openly sneak their drinks on the street as they escort their kids around the neighborhood. Nothings changed.

    Then she followed up with asking me what I did when I stopped Trick or Treating? Like, when I was in junior high and high school. And I had a hard time remembering. I remember the last Halloween I went out, and I had this feeling that I was too old to be doing this. I think I was twelve. After that, it gets a little fuzzy. I think in junior high, I handed out candy at home, or watched horror movies at friend’s houses, which entailed handing out candy. As for high school, I was in theatre, so I went to some costume parties, but I remember them being really lame. One year, whoever hosted it, put “When Harry Met Sally” on the VCR, and they wanted everyone to watch it. So, there was like a six-year period where it wasn’t fun.

    Then I went to college, and it started to be fun again. Still was in a theatre department, but the costuming game was totally upped, and rather awesome. Having costume designers as friends lead to some really amazing outfits. But also, the parties got way better. Maybe alcohol and pot had something to do with that… not sure, might be up for debate. My point here, at least the one I want to make, is that I had to do a very delicate dance with my daughter as to why college parties were so much better, and I made the costumes the reason why it was better.

    Then I had a kid, and things got fun and sweet again. It’s fun when late September rolls around and the kid starts trying out ideas on us. “What if I went as…” or “Could I go as…” We let her decide what she wants to dress up as, and we help out as needed. Sometimes we are included in her costume, but not always. (I have been wanting to go as The Intergalactic Beastie Boys, but she still isn’t game.) Limited time on this, and trying to take sit as it comes. Maybe we have two or three left before she starts to feel too old. It will happen, it always happens, but that isn’t a bad thing.

    She’ll get older and we’ll all head out to the Village Halloween Parade.

  • Gone Voting

    There will not be a normal blog today, as I’m out early voting, and enjoying my civic pride.

    Which reminds me; make sure you get out and vote. Have a plan. Go early, or on Election Day.

    And say “thank you” to the poll workers.

    But go vote.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Candy, Tottenham Stuff, and Merch Store

    (So sue me if I go too fast…)

    The dirty secret of Halloween is that parents eat their kids candy when they aren’t looking. Any parent who denies this happens is a liar. We all do it. When we parents get together while taking the kids out Trick or Treating, it’s what we talk about; “What candy did they get? How much did they get? It’s just not healthy to let kids eat that much candy. We’re doing them a service.” The wife and I do buy a mixed bag of candy that we hide in the apartment and snack off of… but eventually, late one night, possibly after a few drinks, we reach into the kid’s bucket and see that she has three Skittles pouches, so she won’t miss one. And it’s awful when we do it, and we feel so guilty, but forbidden candy goes so well with watching Great British Baking Show.

    Seems like Tottenham is the only team I have left to support for the foreseeable future. Cowboys have crapped out, and I could care less about the World Series. Sure, I guess I could again try my hand at following the Knicks, they look like they should have a good season. No, it’s Tottenham Hotspur or bust! They are playing really well in the Europa League, and are sitting at 2nd in that tournament’s table. It just them in the Premier League that is pulling me down. Those three losses are like an albatross, and it also seems like they give up a goal right away at the start of each match… But… it’s still early.

    Oh, the Merch Store is open. Go get all your 1999 Blogging Gear are great low prices. Remember, each item sold goes to a good cause which is helping me buy a new MacBook Air, or sending my kid to college. All depends on how much we raise.

  • Short Story Review: “War Dogs” by Paul Yoon

    (The short story “War Dogs” by Paul Yoon appeared in the October 28th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Wesley Allsbrook

    I had no idea that airports have animal centers. I feel like I should have known this before, I mean, with all the time I have spent at airports and seeing all the animals that come through there, it seem obvious now. It must be such a mystifying experience for animals to be loaded on a plane, taken to some place new, and how their heightened senses discover that new place.

    If you couldn’t guess, Paul Yoon’s short story “War Dogs” takes place at an animal center at one of New York City’s airports. It is an intertwined story of animal caretakers, a veterinarian, a mother traveling to Korea, a brother and sister set of dogs from Afghanistan, and a horse. Some of these characters ran from destructive situations to start better lives, some are pulled back into their old world, some are physically changing which causes them fear, while others want the comfort of those they love.

    The story was structured in eight sections, or vignettes. Each sharing insights and developments with the characters. It was a practical form to use for this story, as Yoon’s storytelling was well balanced, so we never dwelled too long on one particular plot line. It reminded me of jazz, with the theme acting as the rhythm of the piece, with each character getting a solo. This allowed each character to get fleshed out, giving some depth, and I am being vague on poupose to not spoil this story.

    Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it didn’t wrap everything up as it should have. What this piece felt like was the first chapter of a novel; characters are being introduced, goals are set, complications develop, questions are raised. But not everything is concluded, leaving many questions left in the air. In this state, I was left feeling stood up, and incomplete.

    I understand the old adage that a writer should leave the reader wanting more, but in this case I want a novel about this place, the animals, and the people. I don’t need to tell you Paul Yoon is a good writer; read this and you’ll see. And if this was the first chapter of that novel, then I bet it would be great.

  • And I Got Readers

    In fact, I have them on right now.

    I have been fighting that I needed them for some time. My arms are only so long, you know. But the time came. The optometrist said it was time. I didn’t want bifocals, so readers was my only option.

    I had been watching my friends over the past few years, struggle to read menus and their phones. We would laugh about getting older, but not being able to read was a problem. Then slowly over time, I watched as friend after friend would sit down at the table, take a menu, and then produce a pair of readers that rested gently on the edge of their nose. They could read the small print, while I had to guess, like deciphering the Rosetta Stone, as to what did the Chop Salad come with?

    The real issue, if I get fully honest, was that reading virtually everything was becoming a problem. Not only did I start feeling a strain on my eyes after reading for a bit, but this pain was making me hesitant to read for enjoyment. And there was no way that I was going start making the fonts larger.

    We all get older, and everything does come to an end. The joyous days of reading anything and everything unencumbered are over. This means that I will need to always wear shirts with a pocket, or I need more sports coats.

    I will not do the chain for the glasses – that is a non-starter.