Thanksgiving – Being Thankful Today and Everyday

First appeared on Blogcritics.

Sandwiched between the celebrations of Halloween and Christmas, Thanksgiving sometimes is forgotten. In the scheme of the “Hallo-mas” or “Chris-ween” mega-holiday, Thanksgiving can seem to be neglected. It certainly is in retail in terms of decorations. Try to find light-up Thanksgiving items for your window. Indiana Jones had an easier time finding The Holy Grail.

Yet watching the parade in New York City this morning on TV, I was pleasantly surprised by throngs of spectators lining the canyons of the old city. The turnout has nothing to do with Black Friday sales or any of the Christmas shopping hype. It becomes clear that Thanksgiving is more popular than anyone in retail or the media can fathom because, above all things, it is the people’s holiday and one that they enjoy in full vigor.

The reason is simple – Thanksgiving is an equal opportunity holiday for all Americans. Speaking to people from all backgrounds this past week, I realized that every one of them was ready to celebrate on the fourth Thursday of November. No matter what their countries of origin are or their faiths, they bring their own customs into the mix, meaning tasty food of all types being cooked, fried, and baked for the occasion.

Perhaps it is the fact that religion does not have to be involved as you celebrate this day that accounts for its popularity. We can say the first Thanksgiving celebrated by the Pilgrims and Native Americans was a day when the settlers prayed to God and thanked Him for the harvest that their new friends helped them gather. People of different faiths will thank their gods in whatever way they do, but atheists and agnostics can embrace the holiday as well. We don’t have to thank a deity on this day, but we can always thank the people who come into our lives and make each day a little better.

The concept of being thankful is a powerful one. Thanking someone is on the surface fairly simple, but the notion of gratitude is one that can warm the other person’s heart even on the coldest day. The nature of being thankful is humility, which signals to other people that you know you cannot go it alone. As the old Three Dog Night song goes, “One is the loneliest number,” so if you are gathering with one or one hundred people today, you definitely have something for which to be grateful.

Being thankful should not be reserved for one day a year; it is a practice to be utilized year round. We should be thanking people all the time – thank your barista, your mail carrier, the person pumping your gas, the guy mopping the department store floor, the crossing guard getting your children to school safely, the cashier in the fast-food restaurant, and the list goes on and on. If you are thankful to every person you encounter each day, you will put a smile on his or her face, and smiling is the currency of good will. While it may seem inconsequential to some, thankfulness actually dispenses joy and that is a reward in and of itself.

Enjoy Thanksgiving for the notion that it is a day devoted to family, friends, good food, and football. At your gatherings, be sure to thank everyone at the table, and there will be smiles shared before the turkey and fixings are devoured. And starting tomorrow, go out and be thankful to everyone you meet on that day and every day! People of the world unite and give thanks; we have nothing to lose and so much to gain.

  Photo credit: clipartbest.com, thejoyfulheart.com, huffingtonpost.com 

Waiting for Dad to Come Home on Thanksgiving - A Short Story by Victor Lana

First appeared on Blogcritics.

I couldn’t sleep that early Thanksgiving morning. Mom already had started cooking in the kitchen, and the aromas drifted upward to the second floor where I lay in bed staring at my poster of Joe Namath throwing a football.

I went down the hall into the master bedroom, and Dad stood in front of the mirror putting his tie on. I glanced at the dresser where his gun, handcuffs, keys, and detective’s badge glistened in the light of the green-shaded banker’s lamp. I noticed for the first time that there were four small lines cut into the bottom of the gun’s wooden handle.

“Hey, Pal,” Dad said. “You’re up early.”

He walked over to me, touched my head affectionately, and put on his jacket. “Hey, Dad, what are those little marks on the gun’s handle?”

Dad took the S&W revolver and slipped it into the holster on his belt. “You notice everything, Pal.” He squatted down and took me by the shoulders. “I did that as a reminder of times I had to shoot someone.” 

“Really?” I asked. “Yes, you’re big enough to understand now. I’m not happy or proud about it. Those marks really just remind me that four times I might not have come home to you.”

I felt tears running out of my eyes, and he hugged me. “You’re always careful, right?” I asked. “You bet, Pal. Now I have to go.”

 *

My sister Janice and brother Jimmy sat in front of the TV watching the big parade. Janice looked up at me and said, “I just saw Dad.” At seven years old she probably thought she saw him. He “worked the parade” every year, but how could we see him with all those people?

I helped Mom in the kitchen, mashing the sweet and white potatoes, opening cans of vegetables, and squeezing boxes of broth for the gravy into a big bowl. Mom’s sisters were in the dining room putting finishing touches on the pies they were making. The house never smelled better than on this day with the big bird in the oven and all the pots steaming on the stove.

A few hours later my other aunts and uncles arrived with all my cousins. My four grandparents came in right after them. Everyone sat around laughing and talking. I glanced at Mom and said, “When will Dad be home?”

“He’s working an 8-to-4,” she said. I looked at my watch and noticed it was 3:30. I knew the parade was long over because my uncles and older male cousins were all in the living room watching the football game. If Dad were there I would have wanted to watch it too, but it meant nothing without him.

I went into my room and stared out the window at the Queens’ street. Brightly colored leaves covered the sidewalks, and the bare trees snaked limbs up against the dull gray sky. The sun would be setting soon, and Dad would get the subway and hopefully be home by the time we started dinner.

 *


As our mantle clock struck six, everyone was getting restless. Mom had put everything out on the table, and it all really looked wonderful to my ten-year-old eyes. The steam rose from the big bird, and those melted marshmallows on top of the sweet potatoes were calling my name. The kids’ table in the hallway had serving bowls on it with all the same things that were on the main table.

Uncle Jack called for another beer from the living room, and I ran to get it and I saw the look on Mom’s face – she was worried too now.

Finally, Mom relented and broke her policy of waiting for Dad to start dinner. As Dad’s brother Tony sat down at the table he said, “Who’s gonna carve the turkey with Vince not here yet?”

Uncle Jack stood up and grabbed the big knives. He was a little tipsy, and he hacked away at that bird like he was chopping a tree. Uncle Tony kept shaking his head, and my Dad’s father mumbled, “Vin’s like a surgeon when he does it.”

Jack looked up at him and whined, “Come on, Dad; gimme a break here!”

Mom sat at one of two seats at the head of the table and said, “Vincent always leads us in grace, but this year I wonder if little Vinny would do the honors.”

I felt like I was ready to cry being so worried about Dad, but I stood up at the kids’ table. “Bless us oh Lord, and these Thy gifts….”  

*  

When people started to leave, I felt really scared. Dad had been delayed before, but he had always called. Mom’s sister Ruth hugged her tight as she went out the door. “Don’t worry, sweetie; Vince can handle himself.”

Mom’s parents stayed after everyone left. Pop Carney sat in the living room smoking his pipe, and he called me over to him. “You worried about Dad?”

“Yeah, Pop.”

“Say a prayer, Vinny,” Pop said.

“I’ve been praying all day.”

“Good boy,” Pop said, patting my cheek.

I peaked in the kitchen door and saw Mom crying on Grandma’s shoulder. I didn’t know what to do, so I went upstairs. Janice and Jimmy were already asleep; they were both too young to understand. I fell on my bed, stared up at the ceiling, and prayed for my Dad.  

*  

When I woke the next morning, I heard someone talking in my parents’ room, so I rushed down the hall. Mom lay in bed and Dad stood there still wearing his work clothes. I ran and wrapped my arms around him. “I heard you were worried about me, Pal.”

I looked up at him. “Yeah, a little bit.”

I noticed his gun in its holster; on the handle a fifth line crossed the other four. I hugged him harder then, wishing I would never have to let go.


 Photo credits: scholasticatravel.com, thlectures.com, megaodd.com

Bill Cosby – The Warped Cult of TV Personality

First appeared on Blogcritics.

If you have been watching TV or reading daily news stories, it would be almost impossible not to have encountered the ever growing “scandal” connected to TV personality Bill Cosby. My goal here is not to bury Cosby, nor to praise him – as I recall the brilliant oratory of Marc Antony’s eulogy in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Rather, it is to recognize a mistake of which most of us are guilty. We invest too much emotion and interest in personalities (movies and TV), and in doing so we are basically always setting ourselves up for a Humpty Dumpty moment.


There is no way to dispute Cosby’s cultural impact through his various television projects going back to 1965. Appearing as Alexander Scott alongside Robert Culp in I Spy, Cosby burst onto the scene as an equal partner to Culp’s Kelly Robinson in their weekly espionage series. This role as Scotty established Cosby as a bankable star and would lead to his many other successful ventures.



When I was a kid I first knew about Cosby through Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, a cartoon series that I remember watching every week. Fat Albert came right out of Cosby’s comedy routines, and the funny, affable, and overweight character won the hearts of many kids like me; it also convinced parents, who had been fans of Cosby since I Spy, that his brand was family-friendly. Those Jell-O Pudding commercials did nothing but corroborate what kids and moms already knew – Cosby was an American favorite.

Another TV series would seal the deal – The Cosby Show came into people’s homes from 1984-1992, and it was hard to separate the image of the good doctor and the star. The amiable personality depicted on screen didn’t seem too far removed (if at all) from the one Cosby projected when interviewed on talk shows. He was a loveable father figure, a wise yet funny guy anyone would go to to seek advice or to get a laugh. For all intents and purposes, Bill Cosby and Cliff Huxtable were the same person, and people of all ages loved him.

If that were not enough, Cosby went out and created another cartoon character that would enhance his standing even further. Targeted for toddlers and their parents, Little Bill premiered in 1999 just in time to capture an entirely different market. Conveniently, all those kids like me who had loved Fat Albert and grew up to love Dr. Huxtable now had kids of their own. Little Bill features the image of Cosby in the opening credits, and that seemed better than the Good Housekeeping seal of approval – if Cosby were attached to something it had to be family friendly, wholesome entertainment.

So forgive us all for feeling like we have been slapped in the face now, but many of us have lots of years invested in old Bill. The problem with him is one we have with all stars that we allow ourselves to fall in love with – we swoon for a media created image, a concocted persona that is as natural as those faces enhanced by Hollywood plastic surgeons. All the nips and tucks, all the publicists, all the TV and movie studio lot contrivances in the world don’t change the person inside the shell, but we become enamored with that shell anyway.

Why do we continue to feel devastated when stars keep falling like dominoes right before our eyes? We hear of marital infidelity, of drug and alcohol abuse, of drunk driving accidents, of spousal abuse, and a litany of other offenses. We have seen the mug shots of everybody from Nick Nolte to Justin Bieber, but we still feel disappointment and disbelief at every new revelation of indecent or illegal behavior. The truth is that we are too invested in the cult of personality that has been churned out by the media.

We are too quick to believe in the persona of the star as it appears to us, rather than realizing that it is all smoke and mirrors. The best example is “reality TV,” which is neither real nor true television. I know it’s difficult to accept that everything from Dance Moms to Cake Boss is scripted, plotted, and edited just as much as your favorite sitcom, but the truth is reality TV is as unreal as it can be.

So now, if all of us who have bought the Cosby image all these years feel burned, we have no one to blame but ourselves. We should realize that TV and movie stars are nothing more than prefabricated packaging. They are like the most beautiful and large present under the Christmas tree. As long as we don’t open it, the possibilities and excitement are endless; unfortunately, when we rip off the fancy bows and pretty wrapping paper and get the box open, sometimes we are disappointed.

When thinking of Cosby let’s go back to Marc Antony talking about his dear murdered friend Julius Caesar. “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interréd with their bones.” In my life and my children’s lives Cosby’s shows have brought a good deal of happiness and laughter, but all that will be forgotten now by most people, and he will be fodder for late night TV hosts and other comics who can poke fun at him. Just one caution to those people who also fall into the personality category – let he without sin cast the first stone.

One interesting thing to note is that Cosby performed in Florida last night and received a standing ovation. He went about his usual routine, never mentioning the scandal that is in the news. I don’t know what that says about him or the crowd that supported his appearance, but perhaps the cult of personality is more powerful than anything reality can throw at it.


  Photo credit: AP ,diyfather.com, tvworthwatching/com, dragoart.com, biography.com
 

Classroom Environment Is a Key Element for Student Success

First appeared on Blogcritics.

If you are an adult, what do you remember about your classrooms? In my memory I can think of big windows that let in bright light and through which I could see blue sky and treetops. I also recall in some rooms, when the sun could become a distraction, that teachers pulled the shades in order to block it. The key fact about those rooms was that they had big windows and most of the time they let in bright, natural light.

It turns out that this was a good thing for me and my classmates. A new study found in Policy Insights from the Behavioral and Brain Sciences, an annual publication from Princeton University, notes that students exposed to more natural light do better in school. In addition the study authors noted "For students to learn to their full potential, the classroom environment must be of minimum structural quality and contain cues signaling that all students are valued learners."

This makes a great deal of sense. For example, the study notes that in science classrooms it is not enough to have photographs of male scientists, but a wide range of male and female ones of various ethnicities. It is important to “boost the achievement” of all groups and not alienate certain students by displays that are not inclusive of “groups who traditionally face educational barriers.”

Besides concerns about lighting, ideal classroom conditions would obviously include temperature of the room, arrangement of teacher and student desks and chairs, and the way a classroom is painted and decorated. If we think back to our own days in school, we can recall those classrooms that were warm and inviting and those that were austere and uncomfortable. The best classrooms that I have been in are those that feature generous amounts of student work. They are also painted in colors that are not too dark, making the rooms seem bigger and more airy.

In Kindergarten classrooms we can often find the most colorful and warm atmospheres for students. Everything from color coordinated tables and chairs to the copious amounts of children’s work hanging from every available space on the walls (and even laundry lines strung across the room) contributes to a friendly and successful environment. Children can see their past successes hanging there along with the alphabet, numerals, calendars, and reading posters. This kind of room utilizes every inch of space to provide a positive learning area.

Unfortunately, sometimes this is not the case as students move up the educational ladder. I recall the bare walls and boards in my high school classrooms. Once in a while an inspired teacher put up subject related items, but for the most part there was a rather bleak atmosphere that did nothing to enhance the academic climate.

If we look back at the old fashioned idea of a classroom, we find what I had in my New York City public high school. Desks were fastened to the floor, still had holes in them for inkwells, and the teacher usually stood in the front of the room to lecture. In that truly antiquated setting, there was a definite sense of stasis, and the idea of aligning desks differently was physically impossible. Many of us faced the same things growing up, and maybe we can say that we got through okay, but is “okay” what we want for our children?


As for the arrangement of desks, in this era of Common Core State Standards, the move is toward more student-centered classrooms and to leave the days of lecturing behind. I like walking into classrooms that have desks arranged to maximize potential for group work, for meaningful interaction, and to let the flow of discourse be more natural and effective. This is not to say that the frontal teaching mode is always negative – it still seems to work well for test taking – but that is why it is essential for desks to be mobile in order for teachers and students to arrange the configuration to best suit the needs of the moment.

Sometimes educators can feel as if everything is out of their control. We have curriculum guides, CCSS, and standardized and state assessments that must be given, but one of the things definitely within the teacher’s power is the way the classroom looks. He or she might not be able to dictate the color of the walls, but how the classroom looks and feels can be coordinated by that teacher. Sometimes it is exciting to include students in implementing ideas when decorating, and teachers shouldn’t be surprised that kids have great ideas about how they want their classrooms to look.

Take note of the way spaces look in doctors’ offices, shopping malls, food stores, and restaurants. The lighting, arrangement of furniture, and configuration of displays directly affects the way you feel about going to these places. In my children’s dentist office there are walls painted with cartoon characters, bubblegum machines (with toys not gum in them), and their favorite TV shows playing on screens above the dentist chairs. My kids are not afraid to go to the dentist, proving the power of environment.

This study corroborates what most of us probably knew all along – setting correlates with success. It is true in schools and in other places as well. At this time there is no excuse for a drab classroom atmosphere. It is up to educators to brighten up their spaces and make them relevant to the subject matter they teach with the goal being to highlight student achievement and maximize their learning potential. In classrooms everywhere the attitude should be – let in the light, brighten the colors, and make every space reflective of an attitude promoting success.

  Photo credits: wikipedia, worldof stock.com, mashable.co, conval.edu   

Veteran’s Day – Make Time to Get to Know a Veteran

First appeared on Blogcritics.

On this Veteran’s Day 2014, some of you who are reading this are fortunate enough to know (or have known) a veteran of military service. Usually, this is someone in the family. In other cases, you may know a friend or neighbor who has served his or her country. Either way, on this Veteran’s Day when we honor those who served or made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, the best thing we can possibly do is to get to know one of these remarkable individuals.

Of all the many wonderful aspects of knowing my father (sadly, he passed away last year), one of the most rich and continually rewarding elements was his stories of his years in the Army. Though that was only a brief time in his life (1942-1946), it shaped the way he viewed the world, how he lived his life, and the way he raised his children.

To say that he had stories is an understatement – his tales could make Tolstoy’s War and Peace seem like a short story; however, Dad was always very honest in telling all his tales. The amazing thing was not just the details of battles, of how he had been wounded (twice), or even the glory of victory; no, the best parts of his stories were the humanity, the decency, the sadness of losing friends, and the realization that he was one of the lucky ones because he got to come home and live his life.

In my family members have served in the Spanish-American War (great grandfather), World War I (grandfather), World War II (Dad and my uncles), Korea (more uncles), Vietnam (cousins), and Iraq (more cousins). I have also had friends who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan. This is a complex and rich tapestry of people with many stories to tell. Now we can magnify their stories by the millions of people who have served over the years, and they are a rich resource of historical details and personal tales.

One thing I have noted in talking to vets over the years (in my own family and friends and acquaintances) is that none of them have ever bragged about anything. There was no “guts and glory bluster” from any of them; rather, there was a sincere belief in their mission and dedication to the service of their country. They would speak of the horrors of war (and there were many), but there was also the love of their comrades, the “good” times they managed to have between battles and even while dodging bullets, and their memories are often tinged with sadness and loss, but also there is a sense of fulfillment and honor in doing the job that they were sent to do.

On this Veteran’s Day, if you are lucky enough to know a veteran, sit down and listen to his or her stories. If you take even a few minutes, you’ll be happy that you did because you will hear something astounding that will stay with you for the rest of your life.

If you don’t personally know someone who has served, make it a point to go to your local parade. See if you can get to talk to one or more of them, shake their hands, and say the simple words, “Thank you.” I know that can be difficult or even awkward for some people, but believe me it makes the veteran happy to know that he or she was appreciated.

One time when I went out to eat with my father, he happened to be wearing his Army jacket. At this point he was old and sitting in a wheelchair. A complete stranger came up to him, shook his hand, and said “Thank you.” He then proceeded to go to the owner of the place and pay for the entire meal. My father, never the one to get emotional, started to get teary-eyed. He couldn’t believe that this man would appreciate what he had done even after so many years. This was not the only time this happened when my father wore that jacket, and in other cases he would turn down the offer because the offer itself meant more than anything.

Veteran’s Day should have no political implications – even if our elected officials use the parade and the moment to exploit their own agendas. This is not about being pro-war or promoting peace or being Democrat or Republican. This is simply a time to honor anyone who served – those who came home and those who never did.

Before he left France, my father visited the cemetery and honored the memory of a friend lost in battle. He was a young man just like my Dad who went in a ship across the vast ocean, got off the train in England, and stormed the beach in Normandy, but unlike Dad he never made it out of the water. Dad and guys like him knew too many of those lost, and there is no other way to honor them other than to respect their memories now.

Even if it is not Veteran’s Day, whenever I see anyone in a military uniform, whether in the bank, the mall, or a grocery store, I try to stop and shake their hands and say “Thank you.” This can either be the start of a conversation or it can just be a pleasant way to show appreciation. The best thing you can do though is to stop, ask about their service, and listen for a few moments. “Thank you” may not seem like enough, but it’s the least any civilian can do for the men and women who have made it possible for us to live life as we do here in this country.

Photo credit: trevorloudon.com

Jesus Wants to Go to Outer Space – A Child’s Game Becomes a Teachable Moment

First appeared on Blogcritics.

There are always those times that parents want to remember what their kids say because it is so poetical, beautiful, or mysterious, and then there are those times when we would like to forget they ever said certain things. One time when my daughter was little she talked about dreaming “of a princess dancing on moonbeams.”  That dream inspired me to write a poem for her, and in that way I never forgot her 4-year-old voice and the exciting wonder of her little mind. Flash forward ten years later, and my son (now 5) was going through some of the things left by my father (who passed away last year). He had a deep connection with my Dad, and now after all this time he constantly talks about “Papa” and has interest in all things about him.

In the box there were old papers, a letter opener, a magnifying glass, a small screw driver, and other things. One item my son discovered was a small statue of the Holy Child Jesus that my father used to keep on his desk. He immediately took possession of it, and soon after (as I was going through the papers) he began playing with the small figure as if it were a toy. I saw him bringing Jesus into the game that included knights in a castle, a farmer and his animals, and Donald Duck – a veritable potpourri of unlikely characters.

I went over, knelt next to him, and said, “Jesus is not a toy. Papa kept Him on his desk to honor it.”

“Dad,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I made Jesus king of the castle. He is wearing a crown, right?”

“No, Jesus is not a toy. Don’t play with him. Put him on your desk.” My son then put Jesus on his desk, turned around, and got back to playing. I went about going through the papers again and doing other work. A short time later I heard him counting down as if preparing for lift-off. “10, 9, 8, 7…” I glanced over and now Jesus was inside a spaceship (to be specific, my old Lost in Space space pod that my son has also commandeered) ready for blast-off.

I said, “What did I tell you about Jesus?” 

My son responded, “But Dad, Jesus wants to go to outer space.”

Intrigued by his creativity and thinking that he doesn’t understand fully about Jesus yet, I sat down with him and figured that this was a teachable moment. Yes, we overuse that word “teachable” sometimes, but I felt that if ever there was a time for it to be used this was it. I started asking him questions.

“Do you know who Jesus is?”

“Yes,” he said. “His first name is Jesus and His last name is Christ.” We went on like this for a few more minutes. The he got to what I thought was the fascinating part. “His father is God and He lives in heaven, and Jesus is small and is missing Him. So that’s why He wants to go to outer space.”

“To see his Dad?” I asked.

“Yes, exactly!” my son’s eyes lit up the way my daughter’s did when she spoke of her princess on the moonbeams.

Convinced that it would be best to leave more theological discussions to when he got older, I told him that it was okay for Jesus to go on this trip to see God. “That’s good because he has a gift for Him,” my son said. When I asked what that was he pointed to the statue and said, “See, He is carrying the world.”

Not to confuse his childhood enthusiasm with profundity, I still felt there was something he knew innately that he may not realize for a long time to come. Jesus was returned to the space pod, countdown began again, and then there was a blast-off that included a trip around the basement playroom.

When the game was over, Jesus suddenly appeared on his desk next to pencils and crayons. I inquired as to why and my son said, “He’s not a toy. I think I’m going to keep Jesus just like Papa used to do.”

I rubbed his head affectionately and said, “What a great idea.”

There was a teachable moment in my house that day, but I think it was more for me than for my son. My initial instinct was to crush his creativity because I felt he was denigrating something sacred, but in truth this was just a small statue and my son’s motivation in his game had something good to it. He understood that a child wants to be with his parents because that was what he felt as well. If I had stopped his game I would have been ruining what turned out to be a lesson for us both. 

Now as I write this the statue of young Jesus remains in its special place on my son’s desk. There will be more trips into space for Donald, the knights, and the farmer without him. I am sure that my Dad is smiling somewhere, happy to know that this small statue invokes his memory, and it will be with my son forevermore.  

Daylight Saving Time – One Hour Can Change Everything

First appeared on Blogcritics.

I don’t know about you, but I got up on the wrong side of the bed today. Lulled into the thought of getting an extra hour of sleep because of the time change (clocks went back 1 hour at 2 a.m. on November 2nd), I stayed up late watching a Rambo marathon on AMC (in each movie Stallone gets one soliloquy that is worth watching the rest of the film to see). Well this morning – very early no matter what the “real” time may have been – my son saw daylight and was up and ready for action. This was 6:30 a.m. (but should have been 7:30) – so that hour really changes everything and then some.

From the second Sunday in March until the first Sunday in November, we are caught up in what is known as Daylight Saving Time. Initially conceived as a nascent concept by the great Benjamin Franklin (I wish he would have stuck to writing almanacs and flying kites), DST actually came into use in the United States during World War I but was stopped in 1919. Then in 1966 the Uniform Time Act was passed, but states could opt out if they wished. It wasn’t until George W. Bush got the bright idea to save more energy in 2007 that he expanded the months of DST to what we have today.

The problem is that after being on one “time” for eight months, we are thrust into a different one, making us all time travelers whether we like it or not. This extra hour comes at a cost – this early daylight will mean that nighttime comes earlier. As we move into December it starts getting dark before 5 p.m. For me this feels like the day is lost because the darkness is symbolic for the end of the daily cycle. I have been going to work in the dark for weeks, and now I’ll be coming home in the dark. What is worse? I guess it affects each individual differently, but I believe this shortchanges me. I don’t like coming home in darkness. It is annoying that my children will want the Christmas lights to click on as soon as it gets dark – and burn well into the night. Bah humbug! And they won’t go to bed any earlier either.

Of course, the worst part of the scenario is that this hour gained is “lost” in March. I heard all these people laughing about getting an extra hour of sleep yesterday (which didn’t happen for me), but don’t these fools realize that hour will be given up in March? If this day makes me Sleepy, the one in March definitely makes me Grumpy. Then I really feel as if the whole system is working against me in some nefarious plot out of a sci-fi novel where they steal time.

I’d like to run away to someplace that doesn’t observe DST, but 70 countries around the world also observe DST – many of which would be places that I’d like to go to live if not for that. Hawaii and Arizona do not observe DST, as well as American Samoa, Puerto Rico, and Guam. All of these present possible places for relocation, but then I would have to adapt to being a New Yorker living elsewhere (how could this Mets fan walk around in his blue and orange cap with all those Diamondback fans around?).

No, I suppose I will have to suffer with DST just as I do every year. Right now I am all off kilter, and will force myself to eat lunch and dinner at the usual times. I will try to get to bed as usual as well, feeling almost like that traveler going to the Far East and then forcing himself to walk around and not sleep as to adjust his body clock.

The truth is that I have never done that either. When I flew to Tokyo one time I immediately put on the kimono and slippers provided in my hotel room and took a long nap. Yes, I did mess up my body clock, but that sleep was worth it. When I finally went outside it was dark and I felt like I do this morning – totally out of synch with the rest of the world.

I personally see no reason to keep up the charade of accepting DST and Standard Time as if it doesn’t mess up my life in tangible ways. How about if I didn’t remember to turn that clock back this morning? I could miss an important meeting tomorrow through no fault of my own. How many people this happens to is never reported. It’s a nefarious cover-up I tell you; they are keeping the records sealed away, but I guarantee that the time changes everything for more people than anyone can imagine. I’m not the only one. I can’t be. This feels like I’m stuck in a Twilight Zone script. I’m expecting those alien guys with one eyeball to walk in the door any minute now.

Obviously, on this day I have no choice but to accept my fate. I will try to go about my day normally, but since I got up way too early, my body clock is already ticking off beat. All I know is this – if I fall asleep during tonight’s episode of The Walking Dead, I’m going to be walking around like one grumpy zombie tomorrow. Oh, the slings and arrows of this outrageous time change! Thanks for your big idea, Ben Franklin!

Photo credits: Amarillo.com, Wikipedia, thinkprogress.org   

Halloween – Hooligans, Hijinks, and Happiness

First appeared on Blogcritics.

Another Halloween has come and gone. This year there was less doorbell ringing once it got dark. I used to look forward to that because this is when the more creative costumes used to appear – over the years my favorites included Hillary and Obama (as a couple), Bill Clinton with foot in his mouth, George W. Bush as a monkey, and a guy in a fat costume and Chris Christie mask carrying five pizza boxes. Alas this year the most creative thing I saw was Elsa and Olaf (from Frozen). Maybe with Halloween being on a Friday, the most creative older trick-o-treaters were too busy attending parties to bother with the door-to-door stuff. 

Still, during the daylight hours the bell rang steadily, and the most popular costumes were witches, ninjas (turtles and human alike), Batman, Disney princesses, and the Frozen sisters. I gave out the candy and marveled at how the houses in my neighborhood had been decorated. People actually enter contests to compete for the most haunted house in town, and the extent of the decorating now rivals Christmas in its intensity.

I don’t know when this happened, but it occurred during my lifetime. Somehow Halloween went from being a minor holiday mostly loved by children into a mega-holiday, rivaling Christmas in terms of retail sales and decorated houses. This morphing into a super duper extravaganza is okay by me, but it sort of came a little too late in my life. I know I was in my twenties when it started happening and, while I still could enjoy the day, I wish it had been celebrated with such vigor when I was younger.

My father always spoke of Halloween as a silly day – one in which kids dressed up like hobos, carried around chalk dust or flour in a sack, and ran around the streets hitting objects and people to create clouds of spooky smoke. It was less about ghosts and goblins and more about a little bit of hooliganism and hijinks.

Dad noted that he would dress like Happy Hooligan, a cartoon character hobo that had been very popular back in my father’s youth. All the kids wore their parents’ old clothes, sometimes several times too big for them, and they would enjoy being “bums” for a night of revelry. The “treat” part, at least in my father’s time, came on Thanksgiving Eve. He told of walking from house to house in the cold asking for snacks or sweets. This was during the Depression, so I am wondering if this was inspired by the times more than it being a tradition. Dad said that things changed “at some point over the years” with kids dressing in costumes and going door-to-door to ask for the treats on Halloween – just as we know it today.

When I was a boy, I recall trick-o-treating with friends and carrying brown paper bags to catch our loot. We wore terribly made store bought costumes with awful plastic masks that smelled funny (I suppose they were made from toxic materials), and it used to be so cold on Halloween that my mother always made me wear a coat over the flimsy costume, defeating the whole purpose of wearing one in the first place. I remember the old ladies who opened their doors saying, “Oh, what a nice – what is that costume under your coat, son?” I still got my candy but that was annoying.

Flash forward to my twenties and I loved going to parties as an adult. Now I could dress as anything I wanted, and I recall a series of gory costumes over the years that varied from gross to gruesome. Long before the current adulation of zombies, I was a fan of George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, and one year I dressed as a zombie and used Hershey’s chocolate syrup as blood (just as Romero did). The problem was the smell and the fact that life is in color, not black and white like the film.

I think the real shift in the holiday came with the advent of Michael Myers in John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). The film still is chilling and set a standard for the “slasher” genre that would eventually include Jason, Freddy and countless other imitators. This is the time, for me, when Halloween changed from just the average silly holiday and became something more sinister, more caught up in the darkness of the Gothic novels that inspired the goofy song “Monster Mash” and all the others that would follow. I think this was when Halloween started becoming more than a kid’s holiday – it became big business.

Now Halloween is my children’s second favorite holiday after Christmas, and it is a day that they revel in as they dress in their costumes that would put my old ones to shame. Besides the costumes being more intricate and expensive, they go trick-o-treating to "haunted" houses that have all the special effects we would expect from Hollywood movies.

Houses all over rival the Munster’s 1313 Mockingbird Lane in their spookiness, and kids roam the streets like Romero’s zombies looking for treats instead of brains. There is a hideous under current to some of the decorations, with certain places pushing the limit in terms of the gore-fest ratio. Yet the kids scream in glee as they run past these houses, then double back and dare to ring the bell to see what horrors await them as the door squeals open. Who knew there could be such happiness in getting scared?

Halloween is that magical time when a kid can be a kid and an adult can be one too. Yes, things have gotten a bit more macabre as the years have passed, and those who embrace the holiday have taken it to sometimes odd extremes as they transform houses into catacombs, dungeons, lairs, and labyrinths. The truth is it is a good opportunity to allow your inner ghoul to express itself, and each year it seems more people want to join the party and make sure that it is a graveyard smash.

On Halloween night after the kids went to bed with dreams of overflowing trick-o-treat buckets dancing in their heads, I settled down not to a winter’s nap but to watch two of my favorite scary movies – the original Halloween and Dawn of the Dead. Both films came out the same year, and obviously directors Carpenter and Romero were on to something. Despite all the imitators of these two types of films over the years, they still stand the test of time as better than the rest.

I look forward to Halloween because I feel like a kid again and have an excuse to dress up, eat candy, and watch old scary movies. Halloween is a blast for kids of all ages, and truthfully we can all use a little trick or treat in our lives, even if it’s only one day a year.

  Photo credits: Halloween-2014.com, flickr.com, Wikipedia