The Crab Chronicles

Halloween Mania

When I was a kid, Halloween "decorating" consisted of getting a pumpkin, hollowing it out, putting a candle inside it, and setting it on the front porch. Nobody went to the store and bought fake spiderwebs and plastic skeletons and tiny ghosts and festooned their yard with all that. We applauded folks who got in the spirit by setting out a pumpkin, preferably one that wasn't half rotted and smelly by October 31. 

Our costumes were bought at Woolworths and consisted of cheap plastic outfits and plastic masks that were too hot to wear for more than a minute, and the elastic always broke on them at some point.

We would come home, me and my brother, sit on the floor and sort through the candy and EAT IT ALL. Then we had a stomach ache. Then we went to bed feeling nauseated. My parents let us eat it all and suffer the consequences.

Good times.

As we got older our "costumes" were usually old clothes from the attic -- a Hobo was a popular choice. Now we would be vilified for making fun of homeless people, of course.

When I was small my aunt passed down an adorable witch costume my cousin had outgrown, a black dress with a fringed hem. I was a witch for the next several years. 

Halloween has gotten out of hand.

Now don't get me wrong - my house is decorated for Halloween. We have a fake ghost, a dracula, a large plastic spider -- we got the spirit, y'all. [All my decorations were purchased in past years the day after Halloween when everything was marked down to half price.]

We don't buy real pumpkins. Too messy. I have a plastic pumpkin and that's fine. When both kids were home we certainly did carve pumpkins.

I went for years that I paid little attention to Halloween. I didn't have kids and I lived in either an apartment complex or a condo, and didn't get trick or treaters. 

Then one day I had to pay attention. I adopted my daughter in 2004 and in 2005 she experienced her first American Halloween. Suddenly, things got crazy. We had to carve a pumpkin. I ordered her a witch costume at the last minute and paid extra to get it shipped on time. UPS -- unparalleled poor service -- failed to get it to us until 9 p.m. Halloween night and I was livid. I fashioned a costume for her anyway and she went to a friend's house in the neighborhood where they were having a street party and I think she went trick or treating a bit, too. She was 14, really too old, but I wanted her to experience an American Halloween.

[I was standing at the door that night and a vehicle pulled up out front and a little man jumped out, ran to the door, handed me a package, and FLED back to his car. I was so startled. It was really kind of funny. Later.]

Halloween has changed a lot over the years.

When I was a kid I had to stop trick or treating when I was in 6th grade. "Halloween is for little children," my mother explained sternly. I cried. I carried on. I wailed and gnashed teeth. Then my brother and I tape recorded ourselves screaming and rigged a fake ghost to drop down on trick or treaters and scare them. Needless to say, we had a lot of leftover candy that year and I imagine there were some soiled little costumes parents had to deal with later. 

We all lament the commercialization of Christmas but man, Halloween is catching up. 

A few years ago I took the kids to Party City to shop for Halloween costumes. It was a nightmare. The costumes were stupidly expensive and I got into a big argument with my daughter over the costume she wanted, which was entirely too sexy and totally inappropriate.

Now it's all over the place. People hire professionals to decorate their yards. Costumes costing $30 or more are purchased. Every TV show has people in costume!

Adults spend a fortune going to parties in costume. 

My son and a friend went to Netherworld last night. It's a huge deal here in Atlanta. Two haunted houses. They ended up leaving. It cost $55 to go in and the line was an hour wait! I was proud of Michael for saying NOPE, and just leaving. That's an insane amount of money. I told him, I went to a haunted house when I was a teenager, and I'm glad I did, but I only went once, because it was just things popping out trying to scare you for a few minutes. Nothing scared me but my ears hurt when I left. What a ripoff. I think I paid $10 to get in -- and I still felt ripped off. That went a lot further then than it does now.

below -- costumes at Kroger a few years ago -- I was horrified by the drunk clown and the hooker right next to him!

Time Travel

I have always been fascinated by the subject of time travel, ever since I saw the movie Time After Time -- yes, long before it was a song, that was a movie title. It was about HG Wells traveling into the future in a time machine he built. Great little movie. Came out in 1979, when I was just coming out of the fog of childhood and starting to ponder The Big Questions.

The movie also made me curious to research HG Wells, who was a fascinating guy.

I was telling one of the students I tutor about time travel the other day. “Magic is real,” I said.

He looked confused.

“What we take for granted would be considered magic if we lived 200 years ago.”

He still looked confused, but also interested.

“You know that cell phone in your pocket? Imagine if you traveled back in time a hundred years and could show everyone a working iPhone. They would think you were doing magic. Heck, if you had told me when I was a kid I would one day own a small computer I could carry around in my pocket that could also be used as a phone, camera, calculator, flashlight, etc.? I would have laughed.”

He is 11 years old. He has never lived in a world without personal computers, microwave ovens, and videogames. I never saw a microwave oven or touched a computer until I was in college.

We mostly talk about English and writing, of course, but every once in a while I like to throw in a little history.

I digressed.

Here’s what I want y’all to think about for a minute: Time travel is real.

I think about it sometimes when I talk to my mom.

My mom was hugged by her grandmother, Granny Butler, who was born in 1870. Now Mom hugs me. Mom is a living link to Granny. Michael calls my mom “Granny” because that’s what she wanted her grandchildren to call her, because she adored Granny Butler, her grandmother.

My mother was born into a world before television, before computers, before so much of the technology we take for granted today.

I have the DNA of my parents, who lived through World War II, and I have the DNA of my ancestors who lived through the Civil War. My DNA has traveled through time. My body is its living vehicle for time travel.

I am a living link to the past.  

YOU are a living link to the past. We all are links.

I know this may seem ridiculously obvious to most of you, but it fascinates me.

When I open the box that holds the silk handkerchief my granddaddy sent his mother in 1917 when he was in World War I, I feel like a time traveler. When I see myself in the mirror my grandmother used, I feel like a time traveler. When I eat at the table my great grandfather built – as I have eaten there so many times during my 56 years – I feel like a time traveler.

Even if I one day won the lottery and could buy a new house, all my antiques would come with me, and be placed where I could see and use them every day, as I do now. I don’t want a fashionably modern home, with shiny surfaces and furniture that was made 5 minutes ago by a machine. That would feel too sterile and impersonal.

I think one day, possibly in my lifetime, we will be able to travel in time. I really don’t think it’s that far-fetched.

To me, the past is a living thing. It’s all around us. I love the fact that I still use the oak dresser my great grandfather William Hasty made more than a hundred years ago.

I love the fact that I can get in the car and get to Oakland Cemetery in thirty minutes, and walk the paths that were walked by my ancestors more than 150 years ago.

I think if we want to teach kids about history and have them get excited about it, we need to talk about time travel. Not in the theoretical, scientific sense. We need to point out that we are vehicles of time travel – we carry the DNA of all those folks in old photos who lived long ago.

We need to take our children to places like Oakland Cemetery and show them the beautiful graves that look like gardens, and the beautiful sculptures everywhere, and the field where so many unmarked graves are. We need to share with them the stories of those folks buried there. Then we need to point out the city beyond, the huge bustling city with grand tall buildings that were not there even 50 years ago.

Imagine a hundred years from now, when our grandchildren walk through Oakland. Imagine how they will feel?

Time travel is fertile soil for the imagination, and only by planting in that soil will we grow children who love history, who revere the past, and who want to preserve it for future generations.

Oakland Cemeterythe oak dresser Grandpa Hasty built

Lies and Deception

The title of this post was easy to write (for once) because I know exactly what I want to say. I just hate saying it. I try very hard to steer clear of writing about politics on here or any of my social media accounts, but I want to make some observations that I think pertain to both parties.

A friend of mine posted a link on Facebook to a fascinating and thought-provoking essay by Camille Paglia about Trump and the election of 2016. I'm not sure if my friend realized it was originally published in June 2017. It may not matter. While I don't agree with everything Paglia said, she made some excellent points.

Part of the reason I like the Paglia essay is that she makes intelligent observations about both parties. For example:

"The administration bears full responsibility for fanning the flames of an already aroused "Resistance." However, I fail to see the "chaos" in the White House that the mainstream media (as well as conservative Never Trumpers) keep harping on—or rather, I see no more chaos than was abundantly present during the first six months of both the Clinton and Obama administrations." 

Americans need to hear voices like that. We need to hear folks who look at politicians in both parties and hold a mirror up to them so they can see their own foibles. 

 

When I was a freshman in college I took a class called Key Presidential Elections of the Twentieth Century. For the first time, I heard intelligent, lucid ideas about presidential elections that didn't come from either of my parents. (My parents were both very intelligent and active in politics. Mom is still alive, and in fact still feisty about politics.) This is yet another reason why college is important. We are all vulnerable to different ideas at ages 17-25 (roughly) and we need to hear ideas that shake us up and teach us how to think objectively. I purposely didn't tell my parents a lot about that poli sci class because they were staunch Republicans and the professor clearly wasn't. He referred to President Reagan as "the painted doll." 

I learned to watch the idiotic sound bites that are political ads and to ignore the inflammatory rhetoric. For instance, Democrat accuses Republican of voting against a bill to help xyz group. Republican seems heartless. I do some research and find out the bill had tons of other things in it that were bigger and more prominent and probably Republican didn't realize the rider about xyz group was there; or possibly he felt like he had to vote for the bill because the other issues were more important. You can make the exact same argument for Democrats and how they vote. We really need single-issue bills in Congress, not bills stuffed with a million pounds of pork. 

Politicians do this type of thing all.the.time. They have folks researching every single thing the opponent has ever done or said. By these standards, no politician is safe from mud slinging, unless they grew up in a monastery and have done and said almost nothing to anybody in their entire lives. 

What I find so horrifying right now is that both parties are viciously attacking each other, and things are escalating alarmingly. The mud slinging here in Georgia has become a mud avalanche, and I bet it's that way everywhere.

As yesterday's clumsy bombs sent to Hillary, Obama, and others demonstrate, and the attacks on politicians in restaurants demonstrate, we are becoming less and less about disagreeing respectfully and more and more about being childish. 

I blame Hollywood. 

Seriously. 

When I was a kid I went to see movies where there were lots of words exchanged, and violence was never the point of the whole movie. There were good guys and there were bad guys. 

Nowadays, dialogue takes a back seat to action. Character development is tossed out the window. It's all about special effects. I dare you to think of an intelligent action movie that has been released in the past ten years. It's all about comic book villains and comic book morals.

There's no time for silly old-fashioned things like character development, dialogue, and real ideas.

With CGI, movies have become the realm of ANYTHING GOES. Instead of just a bad guy, we have villains that have to be special in some way -- they can't just be guys who want to kill one or two people, or even one or two countries. Oh no. They have to be out to destroy all mankind, in nuclear-type annihilation. It's like the running joke in the Austin Powers movies about wanting "millions" -- no wait, let's factor in inflation -- BILLIONS -- in order not to detonate a nuclear device.

The mindset is: let's make it bigger and badder and bolder. BIGGER. BOLDER. Let's really BLOW STUFF UP EVERY FIVE MINUTES!

Politicians have taken their cues from the movies and now everything is reduced to shock-inducing TV commercials. People usually don't take the time or trouble to sit down for an hour or more and truly research the candidates, comparing their positions on key issues. Sometimes you see it done in the media, but most folks don't trust the media any more. Did CNN make that chart? Nope, I don't believe a thing from them. Did Fox News make that chart? Oh hell no. They are totally Republican tools. 

See how that works? The media outlets on both sides have lost all credibility.

We are all jaded. 

I think also we are all tired of the mud slinging and the distortions. 

I am tired of Congress in general. Why don't we have term limits or single issue bills? Simple. Politicians don't want those things. They don't want to shake up the status quo. 

I am disgusted and disheartened by all of this nonsense. Wesley was right -- too bad he's not running for office right now...

Recipes from Yesteryear

My grandmother Memaw Hasty [Wilma Butler Hasty] majored in Home Economics at Bessie Tift College and was a wonderful cook. She was always happy to try new foods, new methods of cooking, etc. -- except for things she didn't like, like garlic. (Her idea of "Italian" was actually canned spaghetti from Chef Boyardee. LOL) She was a "modern" cook for her day -- she used Crisco instead of lard, for instance. 

Mom found the recipes below and I wanted to share them. 

The Pear Salad recipe has an interesting history. My aunt Jane Hasty made it when Mamaw was visiting, probably sometime in the late 1960's, and Mamaw liked it and wrote down the recipe. She sent it in a letter to my mother. My mother made it and liked it. Mom gave the recipe to her sister in law, Diddy. Diddy liked it and gave it to her other Thompson sister in law, Evalyn. Now, my aunt Evalyn was a gourmet cook, and if she liked a recipe we considered it high praise indeed. Evalyn made the recipe for years, on many occasions. [See below for Evalyn's version of this, which Diddy said is not quite as sweet.]

I left the image large, to be easier to read. 

One of these days I'm going to make some pear salad, in honor of Mamaw and of my Aunt Evalyn. [Thankfully, Diddy and Jane are still with us.]

right - Evalyn

I remember Mom making the frozen salad recipe and it was very tasty. Mom froze little one cup servings of that once, in our big freezer, and when we were hungry for something sweet and there were no cookies or ice cream available we would eat a frozen salad. 

When I look at these photos of my grandparents it makes me kind of sad. Rarely does a day go by that I don't think of them and miss them. I loved to sit on my grandmother's lap and play with her necklaces. She loved good costume jewelry and almost always wore necklaces. I have some of them now.

I loved to sit on my grandfather's lap and he would read to me. Bible stories, Heidi, Swiss Family Robinson -- those were our favorites. Even now, if I catch a whiff of Old Spice it brings back those memories and I want to cry. 

My grandparents always wore aprons when they cooked. My friend Stacy at Down South House & Home has a lot of really unique and creative products, from tea towels to tote bags, to tee shirts, but my favorite is her new line of aprons. This one is just adorable -- and in the South it's very important to be raised right. If you're looking for a unique and delightful Christmas gift, check out the aprons and other wares at Down South House & Home. I know my memaw would have loved everything Stacy makes.

The Kindness of Strangers

I saw an interview where Lady Gaga was talking about how important it is for people to be kind to one another and I thought awww... what a sweet thing to say, but kind of simplistic. She's right, though.

You don't have to agree with someone's political or religious views to be kind. You don't have to have anything in common. Be kind anyway.

Tonight I started thinking about times in my life when people have been extraordinarily kind to me, and I thought, sometimes there are no words adequate to thank someone... but I want to illustrate my point. 

 

When my father died in 1996 I had a number of people who didn't know me at all nevertheless show me incredible kindness.

When my mom called my office and told my boss dad had died, a lady I worked with offered to leave work and drive me to Augusta -- 2+ hours away. She wasn't a close friend. She was just worried about me driving and crying for 2 hours. I had to reassure her I would be all right. I had just bought my first car phone. I drove alone and cried the entire time, glad that I was alone in the car. I felt Dad's presence with me, though.

A day after I got back to Atlanta I was going through the drive through at a fast food chicken place near my condo and a song came on the radio that reminded me of Dad. I started not to order but I was really hungry. So I blew my nose and tried to stop crying as I ordered. When I got to the window to pick up my food the young black woman noticed my tears and asked what was wrong and I said "My dad died last week." More tears. She handed me my change and my food and then took my hands and prayed with me for a moment. I should have called and told her manager how sweet she was but I didn't think to do it.

Not long afterwards I took some books and cassette tapes (books on tape) back to the library that were really overdue. I told the lady behind the desk I was sorry for keeping them so long but explained I had been out of town dealing with my dad's death. I lived on a strict budget and I was bracing myself to pay a lot of overdue fees but the woman must have seen in my face that I was being truthful and she said "Never mind the fees. I totally understand." I started crying, and thanked her profusely.. 

 

I have the most wonderful neighbors in the world. 

A couple of years ago my mother fell, and my son was away and wasn't answering his phone (he was with friends and the phone had died). I was scared to death. Mom didn't want to go to the hospital. She was banged up but the EMTs said nothing was broken. I decided to try and keep her at home and monitor her. She really hates hospitals. I didn't want to leave her side, though. One of my neighbors went to CVS and bought a potty chair for me to put by the bed. Another neighbor went to Walmart and bought groceries and brought them to the house. Other neighbors walked Lola for me. Everyone rallied around me and helped. I don't know what I would have done without them.

When Michael got home he was so upset he had not been around for me all day, and he cried and apologized. Normally he is very thoughtful and a huge help in so many ways. 

Lola got out of the backyard the other day. She usually wanders around and Mike watches her and she's fine, off leash. He got distracted for a minute and she took off. I was at the doctor. I came home and asked him where she was and he realized what had happened. I was pretty sick with a sinus infection and feeling awful, and I just stood in the house for a few minutes and cried. Michael was very upset. After searching all over the yard and the neighbor's yards, he jumped on his moped and went all over the neighborhood trying to find her. Finally, I calmed down enough to go out to the front yard and call her, and of course I was praying up a storm. In just a few minutes a neighbor that doesn't live close by but is sort of an acquaintance pulled up, saying she had put Lola in the car but then she had jumped out when she heard me calling. Lola came tearing down the street. I thanked that lady profusely.

 

Many years ago, I was in New York City for the first time, age 18, and with a group from my college. We were in town going to plays. We had wandered away from the hotel and we were thoroughly lost -- a bunch of college students from Tennessee looking completely scared, I am sure. A tall, really elegant looking older white lady came up to me and said "What's the matter?" I was 18 and looked younger and I must have looked shell shocked. I said "We're lost and we need to get back to our hotel. Can you help us?" We chatted a few minutes and she ended up walking a couple of blocks with us to the subway, giving us detailed instructions on what train to catch, when to get off, etc. She was the soul of kindness, in big bad New York City. Thanks to her we got back safely and quickly.

 

If I thought about it a lot more I could give other examples. FYI -- I rarely cry, so please don't get the impression that is my normal behavior.

All of these stories illustrate a point I have often made, that humans are basically good, and we should be so grateful. We also need to pay it forward. Doing a kindness (anonymously) for someone who cannot do anything for you is called in the Jewish religion a "mitzvah." I love that term. Kindness is it's own reward. It's what unites us as human beings, regardless of superficial things like class or race or background.

If you want to feel good, and you're feeling low, do something for someone else. Just be sweet. It's why we are all here. It's what makes life beautiful. 

my street, and a rainbow -- right, a butterfuly at my neighbor's house