What I learned from the Twilight Zone

The Twilight Zone – no I’m not talking about sparkly vampires, but the original black and white T.V. show Twilight Zone, with its eerie theme music. Those episodes sparked fear in this young girl’s heart at the time, but every week you’d find my butt planted on the floor in front of our T.V. waiting for the show.

Rod Serling’s clever, masterful endings, with their extra little twist of noir humor, delighted and horrified the viewers in the final seconds.  I waited, drooled for those endings and dreamed of writing like him, well after the nightmares passed. Today I still don’t trust dolls which talk and walk. I also check walls for soft spots for portals to other dimensions.

Many of Mr. Serling’s episodes were commentaries on themes of racism, government, war, society, and how humans treated each other. One the last subject, that springs to mind, “The Invaders” (broadcast 27 January 1961) with actress Agnes Moorhead playing a woman whose isolated farm is plagued by mysterious intruders. The “invaders” it turns out are U.S. astronauts who have landed on another planet, or in other words, “We have seen the enemy and they are us.”

Remember Burgess Meredith, the librarian who wished for peace, quiet, and the time to read his beloved books? A wonderful tale of “be careful what you wish for”, Burgess’ character finds out when his dream comes true after a worldwide disaster wipes out humans. Then his only pair of eye glasses are shattered rendering him virtually blind.

It taught me to observe the world around me in a different slant, be careful for what you wish for, and that life doesn’t all ways turn out the way you plan, in most cases it works out better.

Leap Year 2012

by J. Paulette Forshey

Leap Year comes about every four years thanks to the Gregorian calendar, and was introduced as part of the Julian reform to even out the days and months. Well, that didn’t quite work , because the guys who came up with all this realized too late they’d screwed up. They found they needed an extra day every four years to make their grand calculations work.

It took the fictional character, Sadie Hawkins, notice a woman, to make something out of this man made mistake. Okay, okay, a man named Al Capp, a comic strip writer, actually came up with Sadie Hawkins, but I’m sure his muse was, until then, a repressed female.

Fictional Sadie Hawkins, daughter of a Dogpatch settler, was called the “homeliest gal in all them hill”. Poor Sadie wanted a man, didn’t matter if he was rich, poor, handsome, or ugly, she just want a guy, after all she was turning the ripe old age of 35. Nearly a sin at the time to be that age and have no one to look after her.

Sadie’s daddy, Hekzebiah, as all daddies do, wanted his little girl to have what she desired, so he declared a “Sadie Hawkins Day”. The bachelors of the area were lined up for a foot race, most kicking and screaming. The one Sadie caught and dragged across the finish line would be her husband.  I honestly don’t remember if Sadie caught her man or not, but Mr. Capp had started something. He gave women a chance to take their lives into their own hands when it came to dating.

Two years later, from when the comic strip debut in 1937, young people residing in the United States and Canada, of high school and college age, started having SadiE Hawkins Day dances in 1939. This new custom gave the girls an opportunity to ask the guys out, where before, women had to wait for the man to make the first move.

Capp was so honored he made it a tradition to have Sadie Hawkins, now give the official month of November, in his comic strip for the next four decades.

Today’s societies still have Sadie Hawkins Day Dances, but there is less pressure for either sex to ask the other out on dates, it’s turned more into a celebration of the young.

As to those babies born on February 29, they have several choices for a birthday. They can claim February 28, or March 01, should they choose to celebrate every year. Those who are more age conscience can party every four years, thus, reducing their age.

Any way you mark the date it’s a day of rejoicing, so bring out the balloons, party hats, cake, ice cream, or champagne and chocolate and dance the extra 24 hours away.

What does the Winter Holiday mean to me?

Family, food, and love. My parents lived in the same hometown they grew up in and their place became the hub for both sides of the family gatherings. Reunions. Deaths. Holidays everyone came to our house. Dad had three brothers and a sister, Mom had one of each, add in their children and later the grandchildren and we had a packed house. That was okay since when Dad built the house he made it on the large size. Oh, I didn’t mention my Dad was a carpenter, not a construction worker, a real honest to goodness carpenter. He built the majority of the houses in our neighborhood, too.

I digress, family that’s what I think of during this time of the year, and food. My Dad did a wonderful turkey, his brother Walter being a butcher would bring T-bone steaks for everyone even us younger ones. Mom made this fantastic Oyster Soufflé which I’ve incorporated into our holiday traditions. Oh, and Aunt Jenny married to Dad’s baby brother Frank made these out of the world noodles and beef bits. Mom’s older sister Lois, Aunt Sissy to all, made the best brownies with nuts. Aunt Sally, married to Mom’s brother taught me later in life how to eat chocolate and drink beer. Aunt Sally was the fun aunt, you received two gifts from her one practical like pjs or underwear and one fun gift, usual a toy Mom said we couldn’t have.

Of course we had our honorary Aunt Rosalie and Uncle Van and their kids Susan and Tim. Uncle Van loved to hunt, rabbits and squirrels but his family wasn’t crazy about the meat. That was fine by me as that was my Christmas present. He’d collect several of each then bring them to our house. Mom would fry those critters up, make some mash potatoes, from real potatoes, and gravy from the drippings, oh, my, that was a meal.

I know some people are going nuts since I’m an animal lover and you’re asking how could I eat those cute little animals. Easy, with mash potatoes and gravy. I come from a time when there was more to eat than beef, chicken, and fish all neatly wrapped up in plastic. Like fresh caught fish from the nearby lake or streams, venison from hunters who like the thrill of the chase but not the meat. Then there was mutton raised by a local meat market, and if the groundhogs threatened the fields with holes where cattle and sheep ran, those ground dwellers got to say hi to mash potatoes and gravy, too.

Again I digress, I’m talking about family. My adopted parents were 37 and 40 when they adopted me, the four years they added a son to the family. They’d waited sixteen years to have children so that made our first cousins ten, fifteen and twenty years older than us. Their children were ten and fifteen years younger than my brother and me. Oh, my, were we spoiled, treated like a little princess and prince, and we appreciated it. At Christmas time they put together many of our presents and didn’t tell Mom and Day when we snuck out to help. They taught us how to play board games, endure dress-up, my older cousins consisted of four boys and two girls, raced cars over the floor and took us outside to play in the snow. I loved listening to the grownups when they didn’t think I was. The tall tales the men would tell and the history lessons on who was who in the area. Those gruff men who several served in WWII taught me to be polite to my elders but not to take any guff from them either. That advice actually helped me with all the jobs I’ve ever worked. My Mother’s advice of “kill them with kindness” helped, too when dealing with rude people.

Dad all ways purchased our Christmas tree from the VFW and each year. We made a day of it, going to the barber in the front of the building so Dad could get his hair cut while my brother and I read comics. Then we went inside to have lunch, after that we picked out our tree. The one year Mom was working she’d hidden our presents in the trunk of the car. Dad gave me the keys to open it while he and my brother dragged the tree to the back of the car. I open the trunk, saw the gifts and slammed the lid shut. It took Dad a minute to catch on when he did we then crammed a full size tree in the back seat of a Buick Skylark.

Dad grew up during the depression and remembered when things were really tough so we went to a local store picked out a present for a boy and a girl. Those items we wrapped and took to the children’s home in our town. Dad taught us to give when we can and where we can, time or money both are appreciated.

We had a huge fireplace and I learned early that wrapping paper should not be thrown in there. The fireplace to this day still has the scorch marks up the front of it and one of my cousins took the blame. I came clean before they left to go home, guilt is a nasty thing.

A couple of my cousins listened to my stories and later read my first creative endeavors. Those writings were simple but they treated them like classics when reading them. They gave me advice on storyline and encouraged me to keep at it.

Years have gone by and Dad and Mom have passed. The Aunts and Uncles all but Aunt Rosalie have gone to that eternal sleep. I keep checking in with her since she’ll be ninety soon. The first cousins are still here with us and so are the seconds, but we’re all scattered to the wind. Email and FaceBook help us stay somewhat connected but it’s not the same. No one hunts or fishes anymore and we’re all trying to eat healthy now days, lucky for me and my waist I never learned to make gravy like Mom.

Today my cousins tell me they’re thrilled to have an author in the family, I appreciate the ego boost, but these are the same people that call still call me Baby J.

In the end that’s what family does they love you, feed you, protect you and sometimes brag about you.

J. Paulette Forshey

“Sir, are you okay?” said the bundle that wiggled against him stirring things down below that shouldn’t be stirring. After all, he was an angel, and angels weren’t supposed to have stirrings.

Coming to Whispers Publishing December 09, 2011 – “33 Days Til Christmas”