It only comes once a year.  Halloween.  And I like it.  I always have…. for as long as I can remember.

But why?  Back then, I wasn’t all that crazy about the costume part of it.  I never wanted to be a princess, or anything close.  Most of the times, it was a sheet with two holes, or the go-to “Bum” outfit.

And I certainly was not a huge proponent of being scared, frightened or spooked.  My first haunted house turned out to be my last.

The gathering of the candy was a bonus.  Sure.  But it wasn’t key.

However, there were two things I liked.  All of that in good time.

So….  how did all this business start… of little ruffians dressing up as ghosts, and princesses, and pirates and such?

A long-dang-time ago is when it began.  Halloween’s origins date back 2000 years to good old Ireland.   Those Celts, who lived there long ago believed there was one day in particular, when the front door was wide open into THAT…..  of the otherworldly.

And, on THAT day….. the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred.   On the night of October 31 they celebrated Samhain.  They believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth.

There are droves of details. … about their harvest, and New Year, and Druids, and such.   But basically…. this Celtic Tradition is at the very beginning of the long, long history of Halloween.

Now.    How it morphed into plastic grocery bags filled with bite-sized Snickers, and Smarties…. all at the hands of little hooligans dressed as Chain Saw Murderers….   is quite another story.  Tune in next year at this time.  Same Bat Time.   Same Bat Channel.

But the reason I loved Halloween was two fold.
It was mysterious.  There was a huge element of the unknown, the eerie, the unexplained.  (And you know me….and the unexplained!)
And then there was the other thing.
I began to realize that some people were kind, and good.  Yep.   The Lady who lived on Merimac Avenue.  The one who handed out the popcorn balls.  I LOVED THOSE POPCORN BALLS.   They were epic.

We would always try to go early, and get one.  Then later in the evening, we would split up…. so that she wouldn’t recognize the whole group, and attempt to get another one.

They were so delicious.  She wrapped them in wax paper and twisted the tops tight.  I would trade my whole bag of candy for another one of those popcorn balls.  I can’t even tell you the lady’s name… or even remember what she looked like.  That’s a shame.  Because I KNEW it was special for her to do this.

I should have knocked on her door during any old month, and told her how much I loved her treats.  How I looked forward to them all year long.    And how I would grow up….. and make a point of telling the masses about those goodies, some 40 years later, on Social Media.

I should have thanked her.

So.  This goes out to the Lady on Merimac…. whoever you were… and where ever you may be.   I thank you now.   For giving me one of my fondest childhood memories.   For giving of yourself.  For the sweetness.

And that is why I love Halloween.
It reminds me that people go out of their way to do good things.  It reminds me that we should try to keep treats in our hearts…. and to give them out… all year long.  No matter what costume we are wearing.

There is more to every little thing than what we can see on the surface.  You can go through life and pass a thousand people by in a day.  And they look like you and me, and me and you.  But underneath, everything is different.

But quite simply.  You are you.

Then how can it be that some people totally like you, and others may comletely dislike you?  I ask, how can it be?

We all have different perceptions of every little thing in this this whole wide universe.  That’s how, I suspect.

Take this for example.

This, my friends, is a Milkweed.  Its formal name is Asclepias.  But don’t be bothered by that.  My formal name is Polly, Queen of the Curious and Klutzy, but most don’t bother with that either.

Back to the Milkweed.   The stuff has quite a resume.  This much I can tell you.

Like. During World War II, over 5,500 short tons of milkweed floss were used to stuff mattresses.  And today…..milkweed is grown commercially as a hypoallergenic filling for pillows.

But it isn’t all about the fluff.  Sometimes it is the heart of the matter, that matters.  Those seeds.  They have a very high dextrose content in their nectar.  And, some time ago…. Native Americans used  milkweed as a source of sweetener.

It is a neighborly sort.  You see…. Milkweed is beneficial to nearby plants, repelling some pests, especially wireworms.  (Dag nabbin’ wireworms!)

That old Milky Weed has its dark side too.  It contains cardiac glycoside poisons.   As a result, South America and Africa natives used arrows poisoned with these glycosides to hunt more effectively.

It goes on.  Milkweed is toxic and may cause death when animals consume 10% of their body weight in any part of the plant.  It also causes mild dermatitis in some who come in contact with it.  So stuff your pillow with it… just don’t touch it directly…. or eat it.

But, perhaps the coolest talent of Milkweed are the leaves.   They are the ONLY  food source for Monarch butterfly larvae and other milkweed butterflies. You have to have Milkweed to have a Monarch.   Like a Queen needs a throne.

This plant is lifeblood to some, and deathly poisonous to other.  Another complicated quandary.   Good to some.  Terrible to others.  It is all in your perception.

The small hunted animals fleeing from poisonous arrows dislike the Milkweed.  And the Monarch Butterfly is “two-wings-up” on the stuff.

I suppose in life, we are much like the Milkweed.  Whether we mean to be or not, we are champions to some, and nemeses to others.

So there you stand in front of two different people.  They see the same exact person in front of them.  But HOW they see that person… that YOU… is divergent.

Poison arrow to one. Essential food source to the other.

No matter.  Celebrate who you are.  You are unique.  And you have an immeasurable amount of goodness to offer the world.

Whew.  If life were simple… I’d have nothing to write about.

Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.  —  Margaret Mead

A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.  —  Steve Martin

Do you believe in nermals?  I did, when I was a kid.  And I guess I still do…. now that I’m all grown up.

You see, when I was little, I had the clear understanding that one nermal was okay….  safe.  But if you had two nermals….  it surely signified a ghost was present.

Yes, the pair of nermal.   When I first heard the word, I asked my older sister Ju, to clarify.  And she said it meant there was a ghost.  (The “Theory of the One Nermal”  came solely from my adept conclusions.)

At any rate, Halloween is just around the corner.  And the talk of The Paranormal has surfaced in my life about a half a dozen times over the past couple of days.

It started when someone wrote a message to one of the Community Board of Trustees on which I serve.  They wanted to know if there were any Paranormal Groups in Preble County.   That question seemed to be the first of many that have occurred the past week.

Then, to top it off, a truck shows up in our driveway with a big old “Paranormal Society of Dayton” logo on its side.  Albeit, it was someone doing some work here, and the paranormal thing was a sidebar.   But nonetheless.

Even my Mom has been in on the scope and breadth of this thing.  After her 91st birthday party, she told me she was happy both her parents were able to attend the party.  I simply agreed, but added… “It didn’t seem like either one of them ate very much.”

So yes.  Since I was a kid, I have been aware of paranormal activity.
You see.  We lived in a house where, on occasion, “unexplainable things”  would happen.   You could never quite account for it.   Yet, on the other hand…. we never had any physical proof left behind.

I do, wholly believe in the transference of energy.  I think it is far greater than what we humans can perceive.  Well.  Most of us.

So yes, I happen to think that there are “life forces” around us all the time.  Call them ghosts, spirits, angels, beings, entities.  It doesn’t matter really.  I speculate they are all related.   Like family.  And they have big otherworldly reunions.  With hot dogs, and potato salad, and coleslaw.  (Okay, I’m way off topic and just jerking you around now.)

Back to the supernatural.   I am serious about that.

Ghosts can show up anywhere… I think.  In your home, at a courthouse, in a Best-Buy parking lot.  So EVEN if you don’t believe…. at least be kind…… if you suspect a ghost might be around.  It is just good form.  Trust me.

Oh.  And one more thing.  Never…. ever…. “goose” a ghost.  Your are liable to get a handful of sheet.

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.  –Marcus Aurelius

I love words.  But I have a few favorites…

And tonight… I want to talk about a few.  Just because… the thing I REALLY want to talk about… I can’t.

So. Words it is.

Voracious.
What a great word.  And you KNOW it when it happens.   Typically, it comes in the way of a voracious appetite.  When you sit down with Wimpy at the lunch stand, and you are waiting for your Tuesday Cheeseburger….   you begin to feel a hunger that is insatiable and unquenchable.   Your mind takes over.  No matter how big that 1/2-pounder is… it just is NOT going to be enough.  You wait and wait… and your hunger becomes  unappeasable and almost greedy.   You know how it plays out…  if Wimpy eats one more piece of bread from the bread basket, you are going to take him down….. and HARD.   But the the burger comes out and you dig in to that yummy sandwich.  Before you know it… you are filled to the brim.  The voracious appetite has been tamed.

Haphazard.
Boy, oh boy.  This is a goody.   Maybe because I am not so haphazard in my demeanor, or practices.  I always plan things out in my head.  But if you have the haphazard gene… you may be quite unsystematic, unmethodical, and disorganized.  Perhaps even to the point of being arbitrary, aimless, or careless.  Some might call it higgledy-piggledy.  OCDs… like me… are not higgledy-piggledy.

Bamboozle.
Apparently, it must happen fairly often in our world… because people call it by a bunch of different phrases.  Like… pull a fast one on, take for a ride, pull the wool over someone’s eyes.   The best I ever heard was to hornswoggle someone.  If you have been hornswoggled….. well… it is just NOT your day.

Lackadaisical.
That is the big “whatever” word… before people started saying… “whatever.”  It is lethargic, apathetic and sluggish.    Maybe even careless, lazy, or lax.  But if you are lackadaisical… you are most certainly … unenthusiastic and blasé.   (That’s another word I love..blasé.  I like to say it three times in a row and in a low voice.)

Meander.

I think this may be my favorite of the evening.  I used to be the old “Point A to Point B” kind of gal.  Now… these days… I seem to be meandering a bit more.  Physically, mentally, and emotionally.  It typically means to  stroll, saunter, amble,  and wander.  But it can also imply to meander… say like a river meanders.  Zig-zag, twist, turn, curve and bend.

Yep.  It seems with each passing day… I meander more and more.  Like now.   In fact… it has gotten to the point where I have to start leaving popcorn trails.  Unfortunately, our dogs have voracious appetites, so this methodology tends to be a bit haphazard.     So before I lose my way any further tonight, I shall bid you ado.   A lackadaisical state has over taken me….and I can’t even find my popcorn trail….. at this point.   Pathetic.

Oh wait… that’s another favorite word of mine… pathetic…….. .. .

“Be sure to taste your words before you spit them out.” – Old Saying

It seems the older we get, the less we are like the Energizer Bunny and the more we are like the drum.

Yes, today I am beat . Rat-a-tat-tat, beat like a drum.

Who knows why, really?  Maybe I just did too much physical work, or it could be emotional stress, or perhaps the fact that I only sleep about 4 hours a night.   But today, I’ve been feeling it all day.

So if it is all the same to you….. I think I’ll just relay a little historical tidbit I read about today.

It has to do with tornados.  And chickens.

The deal was, way back in 1842.  A twister ripped through Mayfield, Ohio.  Strangely enough, after the thing hit… the local farmers notice that all the chickens, and turkeys, and geese…. had lost the better part of their feathers.  Nakers!

A mathematician lived in the area.  His name was Elias Loomis.  So this guy  conjured the theory that the loss of chicken feathers was an accurate measure of  the power of passing tornados.  He even fired chickens out of a canon to test his hypothesis.  (That seems completely awful to me.)

Well… about 100 and some odd years later, Bernard Vonnegut , also a scientist, caught wind of this claim.  (No pun intended.)  Coincidentally, Bernie-boy was the brother of one of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut.  But back to the chickens.

Vonnegut decided to evaluate this notion with a slightly more sophisticated method of testing.  He put the chickens in a controlled wind tunnel.   Sure enough, they lost feathers, but not very consistently.   As a result, Vonnegut decided that feather-loss was not an accurate measure of the power of a tornado.

Who knew?
But, after I read this…. Three things came to mind.
1. This could be one cause of the chicken crossing the road.  Forcefully and against her will.
2. Did these guys really think they could accurately gauge wind speed by the measure of plucked turkey butts?
3.  And finally, I should count my blessings.  As beat as I feel tonight, I am sure it does not compare with a chicken in a wind-tunnel, cannon, or a tornado.

Yes, I’m guessing I will sleep pretty good night.
And I’d bet money, I’ll wake up tomorrow morning… hungry for chicken eggs.  Scrambled or otherwise.

Notice that the stiffest tree is most easily cracked, while the bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind.  –Bruce Lee

I am filled up with a couple of things tonight.

The first thing on my little head.

It just feels good to be in the presence of certain people. Not ALL people.  No way, no how.

If we are lucky…. we have the true ones.  Those certain ones.    They are the individuals who know YOU….. and they still like you anyway. And. Every time you come together, the conversations simply picks up right where it left off.

Laughing with them is easy.  Crying with them is easy.  There is trust.  And kindness.  There are hopes, and worries. There is understanding.   But it is all wrapped up.  Just so.  In those certain ones.

For me, in my life…. those people number a very few.  I am fortunate enough to have those connections with some of m siblings.  And my parents.   And of course, a handful of friends.

And the second thing…  that I have been thinking about is who I am.

You know, we ask our children:  “What do you want to be when you grow up?”  The What.

A ball player?  A doctor?  An engineer?  A preacher?  What?  So kids start dreaming about that “WHAT” in their lives.  Yet, a lot of times, it never happens, or it changes.

I think… quite honestly… the question our parents should have asked us… and now… the question we should ask our children, is this:

WHO do you want to be when you grow up?    Do you want to be kind?  Do you want to be someone who laughs a lot?  Who sings?  Who is compassionate?  Or maybe you would rather be cynical?  Or angry… or someone who doubts everything?    Perhaps.. you want to be someone who is simply glad to be standing exactly where you are standing?   The who.

This whole world is so full of complexities.
Today we celebrated my Mom’s 91st birthday party at our house.  We enjoyed the entire day together… the all of us.    I was really WITH some of those “certain ones” in my life today.  And.  Most of all… I am very thankful that we all are WHO we are.

We may not be rocket scientists, or brain surgeons, or  ball players.  We are all very different. That is for certain.  But mostly, we are all very much the same.  We have love in our hearts for each other.  That is what matters.   That is WHO we are.

Goodness is about character – integrity, honesty, kindness, generosity, moral courage, and the like. More than anything else, it is about how we treat other people.  —  Dennis Prager

Tonight, we went to a party.  On a farm.  Our good friends’ farm.

I saw lots of old friends.  Not only are they old, but we have been friends for decades.  Decades.  Old friends in more than one facet.

This can be a mixed bag…. at times.  But tonight, it was truly good to spend time with most all of them.

I can tell you this much.  Our parties sure have changed over the past 25 or 30 years.  There is just as much party in the party…. but now it is more about trading eyeglasses…. rather than passing around shot glasses.

Years ago… things really started to get rolling around 10 or 11 p.m.  And now… most of us are home in our jammy pants by that point.

But it was a good night, overall.

Of course…. another one of the highlights, besides the friends, were their dogs.

Sometimes… I am sure I can speak dog.

A few hours ago…. I met this dog named Chance.
I am pretty sure he was saying….
“Lady. For the love of peat, will you put that camera down, and get my head out of this thing?”

Yes, indeed.  It seems there are times when it is easier for me to comprehend what a dog is thinking, than it is to understand what some of those old friends are thinking.

But I guess friends change.  People change.  Time changes.  As I mentioned, it can be a mixed bag.    Some good, some bad.

I simply know that I am glad for all the good times we have shared in the past.  Those days are long gone.  Now the present time is here for us to be “here” in a different way than we have been before.  Our times have changed.

I guess… when it comes right down to it… ….perhaps….  just because your head gets wedged between two metal bars… doesn’t mean you have to keep it there.

Tonight, we are watching the new X-Men Movie.  So far it is pretty dang good.

But two things have come up during this cinematic event.

1.  I would like to have Mutant Powers.  I would want to be the really fast guy… or the blue lady.
2.  Richard Nixon is in this movie.  They show him as having 3 dogs in the White House.  I didn’t think of Nixon as being a dog-lover.  But as it turns out…. he was.  Yes.  I looked it up.  The 3-dog thing was accurate.

So, let’s talk about Presidential Pets.  This movie made me wonder which of our country’s head honcho’s had a dog, cat, or otherwise in the White House.

A lot of the First Gents & Ladies… did.  A lot.  I found everything from Wallabies to Elephants.   Some of interest:

Thomas Jefferson had a pet Mockingbird… named  Dick… of all things.  Tommy J also had a couple of bear cubs and a horse.  I guess he and this Dick guy were pretty good friends.

John Quincy Adams had Silkworms.  I hear those have HUGE personalities.  Way to go, Quincy boy.  Worms?

Andrew Jackson… unfortunately had Fighting Cocks.  Can I call him a Dick?

Now, old James Garfield had a dog named Veto.  That’s funny, I don’t care who you are.

The big pet owners, by far, were Theodore Roosevelt, Calvin Coolidge, and John F. Kennedy.  They had 29, 26, and 21 respectively.  However, the big winner may go to Benjamin Harrison.  He owned two opossums, named Mr. Reciprocity and Mr. Protection.

Of course, my favorite was George Washington with his pet parrot named… Polly.

I’m just glad I don’t have to be a President to have a pet.

Like our little girls Ollie… Max …. and Frances.

Hold the Possums.  Please.
“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” ― Will Rogers

When I was a kid, we had a few bushes around the neighborhood, here and there.  They had some red “berries” on them.

We were warned not to eat those “red berries” because they were poisonous, and they would kill us.

Well, Sweet Calamari.

I sure as heck didn’t jerk around with those directives from my parents.
I mean…. when someone lays down the law for you…. some “rules” seem to have a little more stringency than other.  It just kind of goes that way.

For instance:  “Polly, I don’t want you riding your bike up to to the Sandusky Playground.  You can go to the Mercy Playground…   but not Sandusky Park.
Welllllllllll…..   Sandusky was slightly closer.  They had one of those big whirl-around things that made you dizzy.  So…. I still rode my bike there from time to time and played.

BUT.  But. But. But.  When someone tells you not to eat the red berries because you will fall down dead on the spot…. I follow that order to the letter.   And all the chatter was right.   I had… in fact …. NEVER seen a squirrel or a bunny eat those berries.

So.  There you have it.  Was it true?  Would nibbling on one of those little red round orbs put me six feet under?  I have absolutely no idea… but I always wondered if it was a truth.  I don’t even know what kind of ever-greenish bush it was…. not to this day.  Nevertheless… I was very afraid to even test the waters.

But it doesn’t end there.   Here is the deal.  Every time I see a bush with red berries, I make sure I stay very, very clear of that bush.  I’m 50 years old, and I still have the “Horrible and Deadly Red Berry Bush Fear.”    So tonight.. .RIGHT NOW… I am going to go see if I can find the bush.
Give me just a second…..

….. …… ……………… ….
………………. ……………………….
……..  Well HOLY SHIT.  Mom and Dad weren’t jerking me around. I found the bush.  And that berry.
As it turns out… it is …. YEW [Taxus baccata]:  It reads:
Regarded as one of THE most poisonous and deadly plant materials around the scarlet berries of yew contain a slightly sugary gloop surrounding the seed and which can be extracted by VERY GENTLY squeezing the berry. The inner brown-black seed is deadly poisonous and must not be eaten.

Dag nab it!

You know, looking back… when I was about 8…..  I dared Marky Brenton to eat one.  Marky when to the Sandusky School, coincidentally.   But after I challenged him….  well…. you see……   I never saw that kid again.  I thought the family just moved out of the neighborhood… but… but…  well now I am feeling quite bad about the whole deal.

Terrible. In fact.

Okay.  If any knows Marky Brenton on Facebook, can you PM me?

I guess my lesson here is this.

Sometimes, it is important to trust people.  There are occasions in life when someone may know better than me.  And in that moment, I have to trust their advice, their directive, their guidance.    I have to believe they have my best interest in mind.  Because they love and care about me.

But trust is a thing that seems to be earned.  We trust those WE love and care about… probably more than any Joe on the street.
It is a tricky thing in life, when to trust, and when to doubt.  That’s all I have to say about that.

However, when it comes to red berries… it is probably best if you play it safe… rather than sorry.  I’m dead serious on this one.

Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks.  — Isaac Watts

To start off my day… I met with the plumber.

Now most of you may think this is an adversity, of sorts.  But in fact, I like our plumber.  He works for a big name plumbing company out of Dayton.  They have given us tremendous service, and quality, for years.  We always ask for the same guy.  Matt.

He and I have become friends over the years.  He always has a great big smile on his face, and not a worry in the world, when you ask him to fix your big plumbing problems.   He really gives of himself when he is on the job.  A Giver.

Matt got a promotion though.  He’s not our Go-To-Guy anymore.  Somebody THAT hardworking and kind… WILL get promoted….. it seems.  So he introduced  Gordon, his replacement.

And although I am rambling a bit, I shall continue.

Matt relayed a “promotional story” with me.  Apparently, a client flat out lied to them a couple of days ago, to get out of paying what she owed the company.  Stood there and lied to their workgroup.  They all knew it.  She wanted to take something for free, it appears.  A Taker.

And that has been my observation… throughout the day…. ALL day today.  I have encountered BOTH Givers and Takers.

I don’t necessarily fault the Takers for wanting to take.  Most of the times, I think this arises from their circumstances.  They THINK they have to get the “one up”, to take and take… in order to get ahead.

But that thing called Karma will swirl right around you…..  like a swaddling blanket around a baby.  I think the more good we do… AND….. the more we try to be givers…  …it may just come back our way… in much bigger ways.  I hope this is true.

Regrettably, in my lifetime…. I’ve done my fair share of taking.  In many ways I still do…. I suppose.  But I try to be more of a giver.  Not because I want something in return.  It just feels so much better to me that way.

There are so many good givers in my life.   I try to learn from them.   Friends and family, care givers, massage therapists, colleagues… service people … ..  the lady at the bank window, when I hand her my withdrawal ticket. (Oh wait.  She HAS to do that, doesn’t she?)  But seriously. There are always those people that hold out a hand to help…

As the great Jackie DeShannon scribed….”Think of your fellow man…
Lend him a helping hand….  Put a little love in your heart.”

As with everything in life… there is more to something than what’s on the surface.  Like… you can learn a lot more than plumbing… from your plumber.  You can learn to give, and let if flow.

Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.  — Lao Tzu