SOMETHING STILL KIND OF NEAT ABOUT HALLOWE'EN - CHILDHOOD MEMORIES THAT HAVE SURVIVED THE RIGORS OF TIME
MANY OF US APPRECIATE THE POSSIBILITY, THAT SOMETHING OR OTHER DOES GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
AS A CIVILIZATION, IT WOULD BE HARD TO DENY, THAT THE HUMAN RESOURCE OF IMAGINATION, HAS LED US ONWARD TOWARD DISCOVERY. WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT OUR BIG THINKERS, THE INVENTORS, AND VISIONARIES, WHO COULD SEE THE FUTURE; AND WHAT WOULD MAKE OUR LIVES MORE CONVENIENT, AND OUR HEALTH BETTER SERVED? MY TEACHERS USED TO TELL MY MOTHER THAT I HAD AN OVER-ACTIVE IMAGINATION, AND IT WAS TAKING PRECIOUS TIME AWAY FROM CLASSROOM WORK. FORTUNATELY FOR ME, MERLE WAS VERY DEFENSIVE, AND PROTECTIVE OF THE FEW SKILLS I DID POSSESS. I WASN'T GOING TO BE A SCHOLAR, AND AS FAR AS SHE WAS CONCERNED, AS LONG AS I FINISHED SCHOOL, AND WAS A HAPPY KID, SHE FIGURED I'D DO OKAY AS A HAPPY ADULT. SHE WONDERED, I THINK, HOW I WOULD USE MY BULGING IMAGINATION, AND EVENTUALLY MAKE A LIVING. THE DOWNSIDE OF IMAGINING TO THE EXPONENT OF TEN, IS THAT REALITY CAN BECOME UNINTERESTING, AND REDUNDANT; MEANING THAT MORE TIME IS SPENT DREAMING-UP THINGS, THAN ACTUALLY BEING PRODUCTIVE. SEEING AS I WASN'T SMART ENOUGH TO INVENT A ROCKET, OR A CURE OF A DISEASE, I FOUND MY CALLING IN WRITING, WHERE CREATIVITY FITS RIGHT IN; I FOOTNOTE THAT IT'S NOT GOOD TO BE CREATIVE AS A NEWS REPORTER. THAT'S REAL BAD. WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING GENERALLY, IT'S A GREAT ATTRIBUTE, TO POSSESS AN INVIGORATED IMAGINATION. IT'S CERTAINLY A DOOR OPENER BUT IT CAN, IF USED FOR THE WRONG REASONS, BE A DOOR CLOSER. WHEN I WRITE, ABOUT MY OWN BELIEF, FOR EXAMPLE, IN THE POTENTIALS OF THE PARANORMAL, IT HAS HELPED GREATLY, THAT I HAVE HAD AN IMAGINATION FOR SUCH FAR REACHING ADVENTURES. WHAT IT HAS MEANT MOST OF ALL, IS THAT I'VE COME TO BELIEVE IN THE POSSIBILITIES OF JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING WE KNOW AS MERE MORTALS. I LEARNED EARLY IN LIFE TO TRUST MY INSTINCTS, AND ENJOY WHAT APPARENTLY HAD NO SOLUTION OR OBVIOUS ANSWER. THE ANSWERS WOULD COME OVER TIME. I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND FOLKS SAYING THEY DIDN'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, OR UFO'S, BECAUSE IT ALWAYS SEEMED SO NARROW MINDED IN A WORLD FULL OF SO MUCH MAGIC AND ENCHANTMENT; MUCH THAT MAN STILL CAN'T EXPLAIN. IT WAS AUTHOR WASHINGTON IRVING, WHO LAMENTED IN HIS BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," ABOUT THE INHERENT DANGER OF SCIENCE DISSECTING EVERYTHING IN NATURE, AND IN THE SAME VEIN OF INVESTIGATION, DISPELLING THE POSSIBILITY THAT FAIRIES ACTUALLY EXIST. HE WONDERED WHAT THE WORLD WOULD BE LIKE IF THERE WERE NO MYSTERIES TO TANTALIZE THE MIND, AND INVIGORATE THE IMAGINATION. THIS IS MY STORY FOR THIS HALLOWE'EN OF 2014. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!
THE JOYS OF HALLOWE'EN A LONG TIME AGO. YES, THEY WERE USUALLY DARK AND STORMY NIGHTS. I CAN VIVIDLY RECALL THE HALLOWE'EN EVENINGS WHEN WE LIVED IN BURLINGTON, IN THE NAGY APARTMENTS, UP ON HARRIS CRESCENT, WAITING FOR MY PARENTS TO GET HOME FROM WORK, SO I COULD GOBBLE DOWN DINNER, GET DRESSED AND MEET MY CHUMS FOR THAT NIGHT'S HUSTLE FOR CANDY. I EVEN HAD A TIN JACK-O-LATERN TO COLLECT THE GOODS. THEN CAME THE PAPER SACK, THE PILLOW CASE, AND THEN THE GARBAGE BAG. A LITTLE TACKY AND GREEDY WOULDN'T YOU SAY? I REMEMBER THE EXCITEMENT IN THE APARTMENT, AND ALL THE AROMAS OF DINNERS BEING SERVED-UP EARLY, FOR KIDS AS EXCITED AS ME, HARDLY ABLE TO SIT LONG ENOUGH TO FINISH THE GRUB. THE SCENTS OF ALL THIS FRYING-UP COOKERY, ARRIVED IN OUR APARTMENT, BECAUSE I USED TO KEEP THE DOOR OF OUR THIRD FLOOR RESIDENCE OPEN, AS IF THIS, ALONE, WOULD BRING MY PARENTS HOME SOONER. I DID PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING, WHEN WE MOVED IN THE MID 1960'S, TO BRACEBRIDGE, AND RESIDED AT THE ALICE STREET APARTMENTS, OWNED BY HILDA AND WAYNE WEBER. ALL THE APARTMENTS EXCEPT MAYBE ONE, WELCOMED TRICK-OR-TREATERS, AND THERE WAS A NEAT HALLOWE'EN BUZZ, WITH LOTS OF CARVED AND ILLUMINATED PUMPKINS ON ALL THREE FLOORS, AND THE WAFTING AROMA OF FRESHLY MADE RICE KRISPY SQUARES. I ALWAYS FELT THAT HALLOWE'EN WAS LESS HAUNTED BUT MORE ENCHANTED; IT WAS JUST AN EVENING OF EXCITEMENT THAT ENDED WITH A STOMACH ACHE.
SUZANNE AND I USUALLY GO OUT FOR DINNER ON HALLOWE'EN, AND HAVE OUR OWN INTIMATE PARTY, THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE BOOZE. I'VE MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF AT MANY OF THESE HALLOWE'EN GET-TOGETHERS, SO AT THE VERY LEAST, I GOT IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM BEFORE MY YEARS AS AN ELDER STATESMAN. NOW WE JUDGE HALLOWE'EN BASED ON GOOD FOOD AND RELATED SEASONAL FARE. NOT HOW I IMPRESSED THE GUESTS WITH CHANDELIER SWINGING. BEING AN AVID TRADITIONALIST, HALLOWE'EN HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION LEADING TO CREATIVITY, MOSTLY AT THE TYPEWRITER. BUT I HAVE ALWAYS SUSPECTED MY FASCINATION AND OVER-ACTIVE IMAGINATION, HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH A VERY EARLY ENCOUNTER THAT I HAVE NEVER TRULY BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND. I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS, BUT YOU MAY LAUGH WHEN YOU READ ABOUT THEM. SOME WON'T, BECAUSE THEY'VE HAD SIMILAR EXPERIENCES. HEY, WE SHOULD FORM A CLUB. BUT HONESTLY, IF YOU'VE HAD SIMILAR EXPERIENCES, FEEL FREE TO DROP ME A LINE. I CALL IT THE DIVINE INTERVENTION FROM AN ANGEL. NO, IT WASN'T CLARENCE, LOOKING TO WIN HIS WINGS. (FROM "IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE." BUT I DO FEEL IT WAS A GUARDIAN ANGEL, AND NOW I'D LIKE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT WHAT CONSTITUTES A GUARDIAN ANGEL. AND HOW DID IT CHANGE MY PERCEPTION OF ALL ELSE IN THIS MORTAL COIL, AND ENLIGHTEN ME ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE? OR DID IT ENLIGHTEN ME AT ALL? I'M NOT REALLY SURE.
A READER ASKED ME ONCE, WITH GOOD INTENT (BECAUSE I WORRY A LOT ABOUT APPEARING WEIRD; WELL MAYBE NOT) ABOUT MY SOURCES OF INSPIRATION, AS REGARDS THE PARANORMAL. SEEING AS I FREQUENTLY WRITE ABOUT FOLKLORE, AND THE PARANORMAL, I SURELY MUST HAVE A DEEP WELL OF INSPIRATION. MENTORS? WHO ARE THEY? WHAT ARE THEY? UNLIKE HISTORY, WHEN WRITING ABOUT THE PARANORMAL, LEGEND AND LORE, AND FOLK STORIES, OBVIOUSLY, I HAVE TO TURN TO THE AUTHORS OF FICTION. THIS, OF COURSE, IS A WEE CONTRADICTION, BECAUSE I'M NOT REAL FUSSY ABOUT FICTION. THIS COMES FROM BOOK COLLECTING AND SELLING, NOT OUT OF DISLIKE FOR THOSE WHO PEN NOVELS AND SHORT STORIES. THIS IS DUE TO THE FACT, THAT IN MY BUSINESS, AS SMALL AS IT IS IN THE OLD BOOK COMMUNITY, I SELL NON-FICTION STEADILY, BUT FICTION, SELDOM, AND THIS HAS BEEN A TREND FOR THIRTY YEARS IN THE BUSINESS OF SELLING OLD STUFF. THE ONLY RECENT CHANGE IN THIS TREND, IS THAT WE ARE SELLING SELECT, USED PAPERBACK VERSIONS OF THE CLASSICS, AT VERY AFFORDABLE PRICES. HARDCOVER CLASSICS ARE HARD TO SELL, AND UNLESS YOU'VE GOT A FIRST EDITION, THAT MAY BE SIGNED, IT'S HARD TO CONVINCE A YOUNGER AUDIENCE TO BUY THE WORK OF SOMEONE THEY'VE NEVER HEARD OF, OR LEARNED ABOUT ENGLISH CLASSES. THE SIGNED FIRST EDITION, WELL, NOW THAT IS MARKETABLE, BUT FOR A VERY HANDSOME PRICE. THUS, WHEN I SUGGEST THAT I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR CERTAIN WORKS OF FICTION, AS A WRITER, I'M NOT PUTTING ANY FINANCIAL GAIN ON THE RELATIONSHIP. I ALWAYS KEEP A FEW OF THESE CLASSICS FOR MY OWN LIBRARY COLLECTION, THAT I CAN CALL-ON, WHEN, AND IT DOES HAPPEN ON OCCASION, THE WELL GOES DRY.
FOR FIFTY-FIVE YEARS OF LIVING, AND BROADENING THE RANGE OF MY IMAGINATION, I HAVE BEEN AN ADMIRER OF THE WORK OF BRITISH AUTHOR, CHARLES DICKENS. BUT ORIGINALLY, IT WAS GENERATED BY EXPOSURE, EVERY CHRISTMAS, TO THE MOVIE, "A CHRISTMAS CAROL," STARRING LEGENDARY BRITISH ACTOR, ALISTAIR SIM. NO OTHER VERSION WOULD SATISFY MY MOTHER, AND I HAVE NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS PASS BY IN ALL THOSE YEARS, THAT THIS MOVIE WASN'T PART OF THE HOLIDAY CELEBRATION. BY THE WAY, I PROBABLY WATCHED THE MOVIE FROM MY VERY FIRST CHRISTMAS, BUT UNTIL THE AGE OF FIVE, I PROBABLY DIDN'T APPRECIATE MUCH ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE OF MR. SIM, OR THE COMINGS AND GOINGS OF THE THREE SPIRITS. AFTER THIS AGE, I BECAME PROFOUNDLY AWARE OF THE MEANING OF SCROOGE'S RECLAMATION. TRUTH BE KNOWN, I WAS SCARED OF THE MOVIE UNTIL I WAS FIFTY. YOU KNOW, WHEN THE BASOON PART COMES IN, AROUND THE TIME SCROOGE ENTERS HIS HOUSE, ON CHRISTMAS EVE, AND SEES THE FACE OF HIS FORMER BUSINESS PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY, TRANSPOSED OVER HIS DOOR KNOCKER. IT'S THE WHOLE SPIRIT MANIFESTATION UPON WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE REAL WORLD, WITH UNFORTUNATE SITUATIONS, SUCH AS THE ILLNESS OF TINY TIM. QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO, I EVEN BEGAN READING DICKENS' "CHRISTMAS CAROL," BEFORE GOING TO BED ON DECEMBER 24TH, SITTING IN A WINDOW-SIDE CHAIR AT BIRCH HOLLOW, OVERLOOKING THE SNOW-LADEN BOG ACROSS THE LANE. SOME YEARS LATER, I ALSO WOULD READ WASHINGTON IRVING'S "CHRISTMAS AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND YES, "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," ON THE EVE OF HALLOWE'EN. AND MY FAVORITE FILM MAKER, IS TIM BURTON; HIS TWO FILMS I ADORE, BEING "NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS," AND "SLEEPY HOLLOW," WHICH STARRED JOHNNY DEPP. IT CAN BE SAID THEN, WITH CONSIDERABLE ACCURACY, THAT THE LOOP OF INTRIGUE FOR ME, COMES FROM THEIR FINE WORK. I AM ALSO DRAWN TO THE WORK OF WELL KNOWN MEDIUM JOHN EDWARD, FROM THE FORMER TELEVISION SHOW, "CROSSING OVER." THE FIRST TIME I WATCHED JOHN EDWARD, I FELT RELIEVED TO KNOW I WASN'T CRAZY. I'VE BEEN TALKING TO DEAD PEOPLE (THOSE WHO HAVE CROSSED OVER) SINCE I WAS A KID. THIS I THINK HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH DICKENS STORY ABOUT THE THREE CHRISTMAS SPIRITS. HOW COULD DICKENS HAVE BEEN WRONG ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF SPIRITS? YEA, I KNOW. THE FICTION THING? JOHN EDWARD'S SUGGESTION, THAT BY VALIDATING, THAT THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED, CAN COMMUNICATE WITH THE LIVING, MET ALL MY PRIOR CONVICTIONS AND EVIDENCE, THAT I COULD TALK, OR RATHER COMMUNICATE, WITH THE DECEASED. ALL HE DID WAS CONFIRM WHAT I HAD ALWAYS BELIEVED, EVEN AS YOUNG AS FIVE YEARS OLD. I DIDN'T HAVE A GOOD CONCEPT THAT FICTION WASN'T REAL. BUT THERE WAS AN EVENT THAT PLAYED INTO THIS STRANGER THAN FICTION SITUATION, THAT, I THINK, CREATED MY FULL APPRECIATION OF THE AFTERLIFE; AND THE REASON I BEGAN TO UNDERSTAND JOHN EDWARD'S PRACTICAL GUIDE FOR VALIDATING THOSE WHO HAD CROSSED OVER. I COULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT THE SIGNS, IN RETURN FOR THIS VALIDATION, I'VE BEEN GIVEN, FROM THE ALLEGED SPIRIT KIND; AND IT HAS OPENED MY MIND TO ALL KINDS OF POSSIBILITIES, I FEEL FORTUNATE TO BE EXPOSED AS A WRITER. WE WRITERS SPEND A LOT OF TIME "SOUL SEARCHING," SO TO SPEAK, AND MY SEARCH IS A LITTLE LESS ARDUOUS IN THIS REGARD.
AS I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT DOZENS OF TIMES, I WAS TOUCHED BY ANGEL, (NOT THE TELEVISION SHOW) AS A CHILD, SUFFERING FROM HIGH FEVER, DURING A PERIOD OF ILLNESS THAT HAD KEPT ME HOME FROM SCHOOL FOR WEEKS. IT WAS A LUNG AILMENT, SIMILAR TO WHOOPING COUGH, AND I WAS HAVING A PROBLEM WITH PENICILLIN. THE DRUG THAT WAS HOPED WOULD CURE ME, WAS KILLING ME WITH SIDE-EFFECTS. IT WAS ONLY IN LIQUID FORM THEN, AND I COULDN'T GET IT DOWN MY THROAT. APPARENTLY I GOT A RASH AS A RESULT OF TRYING TO TAKE IT, AND I SUPPOSE MY BODY WAS REJECTING IT, BY MAKING ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. I WON'T GO INTO ALL THE DETAILS OF THE ENCOUNTER, BECAUSE YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK IN THESE BLOGS, TO READ THE FULL STORY OF MY ANGEL-ENCOUNTER. SUFFICE TO SAY, AND IT IS ALSO THE SCHOLARLY OPINION, THAT AFTER YOU'VE HAD, WHAT MAY BE CALLED A DIVINE INTERVENTION LIKE THIS, BEING IN THE ALLEGED PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL, YOUR LIFE IS NEVER THE SAME AGAIN. YOU ARE OF "THE ENLIGHTENED." I'M NOT INVENTING THIS. I READ IT IN A BOOK, ALL ABOUT ANGELS. HOW MANY DREAMS CAN YOU REMEMBER FROM CHILDHOOD? I'VE HELD ONTO THIS DREAM SINCE THE AGE OF SEVEN, OR THERE ABOUTS. CRYSTAL CLEAR. THE ANGEL, WITHOUT A WORD BEING SPOKEN, INFORMED ME THAT I WAS NOT GOING TO DIE, AND THAT I WOULD GET BETTER AND RETURN TO SCHOOL. IT WAS MADE CLEAR THAT IT WAS NOT MY TIME. I HAD WORK TO DO. TO DESCRIBE THE EXPERIENCE AS ETHEREAL WOULD BE UNDERSTATING THE IMPACT. THE PERFUME WAS UNEARTHLY AS WAS THE MUSIC IN HER PRESENCE. THE TEMPERATURE WAS NEITHER HOR NOR COLD. HER FACE WAS HOLY, AND THAT'S THE ONLY WAY I CAN DESCRIBE IT, BEYOND THE OBVIOUS GLOWING BEAUTY. YES, SHE POSSESSED WHAT I WOULD ALL ANGEL WINGS. (NOT BINGO WINGS) I WAS SUSPENDED, FLOATING IN THE AIR, AND I HAD NO ABILITY TO MOVE. BUT IT WAS A GLORIOUS FEELING; A NIRVANA, HAVING NO FEELINGS OF PAIN OR EMOTIONS, OTHER THAN FEELING COMFORTED IN THE BRIGHT ILLUMINATION OF HER PRESENCE. I HAD BEEN SICK FOR WEEKS, AND HAD FELT SORE ALL OVER FOR SO LONG, I ASSUMED IT WOULD BECOME MY NEW NORMAL. EVEN WHEN I SLEPT I FELT THE INTERRUPTION OF PAIN. THERE SEEMED NO ESCAPE. I HAD EXPERIENCED MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS, SUFFERING FROM JAGS OF COUGHING, THAT MADE ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. YOU CAN IMAGINE THEN, HOW WONDERFUL IT WAS, TO HAVE THIS PAIN-FREE MOMENT, EVEN IF IT WAS A DREAM.
IT'S IMPORTANT TO FOOTNOTE, THAT WITH THIS EXPERIENCE, IN THE DAYS AND WEEKS FOLLOWING, IT DIDN'T INSPIRE ME TO ATTEND CHURCH REGULARLY. IT DIDN'T HAVE ANY SIGNIFICANT RELIGIOUS IMPACT, THAT I'M AWARE OF, EXCEPT FOR THE REALITY THAT I WILL RETIRE FROM THIS MORTAL COIL HAVING CHRISTIAN BELIEFS; BUT NOTHING OVER-ZEALOUS. I HAVE AN INTEREST IN RELIGIOUS ICONS, BECAUSE I FEEL THEY POSSESS SOMETHING SIGNIFICANT IN SPIRITUAL ESSENCE; BUT I REMAIN UNSURE WHAT IT ALL MEANS. I BELIEVE IN GOD, BECAUSE I HAD AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN ANGEL. THE FACT IT CAME AS A DREAM, AND NOT WHEN I WAS CONSCIOUS, DOESN'T REALLY DETRACT FROM THE FEELING OF "BEING TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL". I HAVE NEVER FELT COMPELLED TO PREACH OR FORCE OUR KIDS, TO ATTEND CHURCH. I WAS AT PEACE THEN, FOLLOWING THE ENCOUNTER, AS I AM NOW. BUT I DID EXPERIENCE SOMETHING I CAN'T QUITE EXPLAIN, THAT HAS ENLIGHTENED ME ABOUT THE POSSIBILITIES OF LIFE, BEYOND WHAT WE KNOW AS DEATH. WHILE HAVING AN AUDIENCE WITH AN ANGEL IS LIFE ALTERING, AND REALLY, REALLY NEAT, THE COMPANY OF LIKE-MINDED FOLKS, I HAVE KEPT, EVER SINCE, WHO HAVE SIMILAR REVERENCE FOR THE SPIRIT-KIND, HAS GIVEN ME A RATHER REMARKABLE INSIGHT; ONE THAT I LIVE WITH DAILY, AND EXERCISE FREQUENTLY, DURING THE TASK OF WRITING. OR JUST DAILY WORK AND LIVING. I NEVER TAKE ANYTHING AT FACE VALUE, AND I AM ACUTELY AWARE OF SIGNS, BUT NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH BEING SUPERSTITIOUS. THE ANGEL EXPERIENCE ENDED MY CONCERN ABOUT SUPERSTITION, AS I'M SURE YOU CAN APPRECIATE. MY MOTHER WAS SUPERSTITIOUS TO A FAULT, AND SHE TRIED TO GET ME TO SHOW THE SAME RESPECT. LIKE TOSSING THE SALT OF A FALLEN SHAKER, OVER THE LEFT SHOULDER, TO AVOID BAD LUCK. SHE HAD DOZENS OF THEM. I DIDN'T BELIEVE IN THEM, AND NEVER HAVE.
I CAN TRACE BACK MY INTEREST IN THE PARANORMAL, TO AROUND THIS TIME OF MY YOUNG LIFE, AND IT WASN'T THE RESULT OF AN OVER-EXPOSURE TO HOLLYWOOD DEPICTIONS OF GHOSTS. TWO MOVIES THAT DID IMPRINT, WERE "THE UNINVITED," AND "THE CHANGELING." I MUST STRESS, THAT ALTHOUGH I ALSO DO BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, IN THAT THEY ARE WANDERING, LOST SPIRITS THAT WANT TO BE RECOGNIZED, I DON'T HAVE ANY FEAR OF THEM; AND HAVING A FAIR AMOUNT OF CONTACT THROUGH MY LIFE, I'VE NEVER BEEN FRIGHTENED BY A SINGLE GHOST, APPARITION OR ORB. THIS MAY SEEM SOMEWHAT STRANGE, BUT I'M BEING HONEST ABOUT THIS; THEY'VE ALL BEEN A "CASPER" STRENGTH GHOSTS. THEY'RE A LITTLE UNSETTLING AT FIRST, BUT WHEN YOU MULL OVER THE ENCOUNTER, IT'S USUALLY NOTHING PARTICULARLY SERIOUS. I JUST TRY TO ENGAGE WHAT IS TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION. I AM NOT A GHOST WHISPERER, GHOST HUNTER, OR A MEDIUM TRYING TO DRUM UP BUSINESS. I AM JUST OPEN TO POSSIBILITIES, AND WHETHER THIS HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY EARLIER ANGEL-ENCOUNTER, I DON'T KNOW. I WOULD LIKE TO FIND OUT, HOWEVER, AND I'VE ASKED SUZANNE'S HELP ON THIS, BECAUSE I RESPECT HER RESEARCH CAPABILITIES.
IF I HAD THE CHOICE IN MY LIFE, TO DO IT ALL AGAIN, THE ONLY STIPULATION, WOULD BE, THAT THE ANGEL-DREAM COMPONENT, WOULD HAVE TO BE A PART, BECAUSE I COULD NOT IMAGINE BEING WITHOUT IT AS A RECOLLECTION, AT TIMES WHEN I'VE BEEN FULL OF WORRY AND ANGST ABOUT THE FUTURE. THE RECOLLECTION OF AN ANGEL'S FACE, WARMS THE HEART.
MY GRANDFATHER, STANLEY JACKSON, WAS A GOOD CHRISTIAN BUT CAME TO DISLIKE THE CHURCH
Here's a believe it or not story from my family chronicle. During the Depression years in Toronto, my grandfather was employed to build a church somewhere in the Jane and Bloor area of the city. They lived very close, at that point, because my mother attended Runnymede Collegiate. There is also a "Jackson Avenue," west of Jane Street, named after my grandfather, Stanley Jackson. He even built their family home, and it was gorgeous. He was persnickety in his building habits, and he wasn't known for taking short cuts, or going cheap to save a buck. His only fault, may have been the fact he worked slowly, as did his crew, making sure everything was done correctly in construction. Stanley was the son of a farm family, who married a woman, Blanche Sandercock, who was from United Empire Loyalist stock, dating back to the Vandervoorts of New York at around the time, Washington Irving set the scene for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Stanley and Blanche raised six children on a contractor's wages, after leaving the family farm in Trenton, Ontario, where the Jacksons came in the early 1800's from Liverpool, England.
My mother talks about having to attend church twice, to even three times on Sundays, and although she never called her mother and father "God fearing," it must have been close enough, to consider it fact. Stanley would have thought it was all part of the service, to God then, when he was contracted to build a pleading congregation a new church. I'm sure he would have done it for a modest rate, over and above material costs, but he also had no other means of feeding his family. So when, after he turned the keys over to the Reverend, after the church was completed, it was somewhat startling to him, that the congregation had decided to accept his work as a donation; refusing to pay him for the work. He had already paid the workers out of his own resources, so he was also out this money as well. My grandfather was so outraged, that he vowed to never again, step foot inside a church, or put a hand on a Bible. I'm pretty sure, but my grandmother's memorial was held in a funeral home, and not a church.
When my grandfather, in the last few years of his life, found a female friend to keep him company, we knew his patience for religion was being tested, as she was a regular church-goer. I have always found it somewhat ironic, that a man with such conviction, about a wrong decades earlier, revisited his anger, enough to make a visit back to church to please his mate. He suffered a massive heart attack, on the steps of the church, and died long before the ambulance attendants arrived. I have never known, whether he died on the way in, or when he was exiting, but I suppose that doesn't matter. He did come full circle but it also came, about as late in life, as it possibly could.
I have never found Hallowe'en to be spooky. I have always found it enchanted, as I perceive of hobgoblins, witches, zombies and vampires. These are just the relics of folklore, and neat to bring out of the closet on the even of Hallowe'en. I've never attached anything paranormal to Hallowe'en except the genuine interest, in whether or not, Harry Houdini, the great escape artist, will get a message to us mortals, one day, as he promised, about the realm of immortality. There was great anticipation that he would get a message to the living, after his death, but to my knowledge, it was never received; at least how the public expected it to be offered. Otherwise, it's just a neat evening to enjoy strange enchantments and unfettered imagination, around the glowing jack'o lantern on the table-top. It is a cultural, folkish tradition, that deserves respect, as a part of our heritage. It's a bit of living fiction, because many of us are participants, in one way or another. It is the time of the rolling year, when we allow ourselves to be a little foolish with our revelry, about such things as horrible monsters, and at the same time, super heroes, that walk the earth looking after our well-being. I suppose there are those who take it all too seriously. Yet it is an occasion that can be interpreted as you wish, and celebrated accordingly. It does play to the desires of our imaginations, to generate life into our wild fiction, like the life electrified into the Frankenstein monster. It is no different, than what was imagined, and set to paper, by writer Washington Irving, in the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," and by Charles Dickens, when he wrote into "A Christmas Carol," the visitations by the three Christmas ghosts.
It's why I have included this special shortened version of Irving's "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," for this year's Hallowe'en blog. While you've probably read it before, and maybe even via this blog, there are a few new readers who haven't, so I've pulled parts two and three from my archives collection. Part one, ran in the archives section in yesterday's column if you missed it. Otherwise, have a safe and traditional Hallowe'en; and it's no sign of runaway nostalgia, to think back on your own days as trick-or-treators, in your own jack-o-lantern filled home neighborhoods. Remember all that candy and pop? Good times!
From the Archives, Part 2 Legend Of Sleepy Hollow
"AS ICHABOD APPROACHED THIS FEARFUL (TULIP) TREE, HE BEGAN TO WHISTLE; HE THOUGHT HIS WHISTLE WAS ANSWERED; IT WAS BUT A BLAST SWEEPING SHARPLY THROUGH THE DRY BRANCHES. AS HE APPROACHED A LITTLE NEARER, HE THOUGHT HE SAW SOMETHING WHITE HANGING IN THE MIDST OF THE TREE; HE PAUSED, AND CEASED WHISTLING; BUT ON LOOKING MORE NARROWLY, PERCEIVED THAT IT WAS A PLACE WHERE THE TREE HAD BEEN SCATHED BY LIGHTNING, AND THE WHITE WOOD LAID BARE. SUDDENLY HE HEARD A GROAN - HIS TEETH CHATTERED AND HIS KNEES SMOTE AGAINST THE SADDLE; IT WAS BUT THE RUBBING OF SOME HUGE BOUGH UPON ANOTHER, AS THEY WERE SWAYED ABOUT BY THE BREEZE. HE PASSED THE TREE IN SAFETY, BUT NEW PERILS LAY BEFORE HIM," WROTE WASHINGTON IN "THE SKETCH BOOK," PUBLISHED IN 1819; THE STORY OF COURSE, IS "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, WAS NAMED OUT OF RESPECT FOR WASHINGTON IRVING'S SECOND BOOK OF SKETCHES, IN THE 1820'S, KNOWN THEN AS "BRACEBRIDGE HALL." IT WAS IN 1864 THAT CANADIAN POSTAL OFFICIAL, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, NAMED THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, AFTER IRVING'S INTERNATIONALLY RESPECTED BOOK. IF YOU MISSED THE FIRST TWO COLUMNS IN THIS SHORT SERIES, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY'S BLOG. BEING NAMED AFTER THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING, WAS INTENDED BY LESUEUR, TO BE A MEMORIAL HONOR TO THE AMERICAN WRITER, WHO HAD DIED SOME YEARS EARLIER. IT WAS LIKELY THAT NEW RELEASES OF HIS BOOKS, AFTER HIS DEATH, WOUND UP ON LESUEUR'S DESK, AS ONE OF OUR COUNTRY'S UP AND COMING LITERARY CRITICS. WHEN ASSOCIATE HISTORIANS, IN THE PAST, HAVE WRITTEN THAT "HE NAMED BRACEBRIDGE AFTER THE TITLE OF A BOOK HE WAS READING AT THE TIME," THEY OF COURSE, WERE CORRECT TO ASSUME THIS.....BUT THEY FAILED TO EXPLAIN WHY. LESUEUR WENT ON TO BECOME WELL KNOWN AS A LITERARY CRITIC, WITH REVIEWS PUBLISHED IN SOME OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL PERIODICALS IN NORTH AMERICA; WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, DUTIFULLY BECOMING A SIGNIFICANT CANADIAN HISTORIAN. HIS DAY JOB, IN PART, INVOLVED NAMING HAMLET POST OFFICES THROUGHOUT CANADA.
THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS KNOWN FOR LONG AND LONG, ABOUT THIS IMPORTANT LITERARY CONNECTION, BUT HAS GENERALLY SHOWN LITTLE INTEREST IN DEVELOPING THE CONNECTION MORE FULLY. THIS I OFFERED THEM AT THE TURN OF THE NEW CENTURY, AS A LINK BETWEEN THE TOWN, AND THE IRVING MUSEUM, AT SUNNYSIDE, IN NEW YORK; SOMETHING I HAD ARRANGED PERSONALLY, AND AS AN EXTRA MEASURE, EVEN WROTE A SMALL BOOK ABOUT THE EXCITING, UNDER-UTILIZED RELATIONSHIP. THIS DIDN'T EXCITE THEM EITHER. OUR FAMILY EVEN WENT TO THE EXTENT OF HAVING A SMALL MUSEUM QUALITY EXHIBIT, OF WASHINGTON IRVING - WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR MATERIALS, (VISUALS) AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING, IN THE AUDITORIUM OF THE BRACEBRIDGE UNITED CHURCH....AT CHRISTMAS, AS A BOLSTER TO THE IDEA OF PROMOTING "BRACERBRIDGE HALL." THERE IS AN OUTSTANDING REFERENCE TO CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS, AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL, CONTAINED IN THIS BOOK, OF WHICH THE TOWN HAD THE RIGHTS OF PROVENANCE, TO FULLY EXPLOIT THE CONNECTION TO ONE OF THE WORLD'S BEST KNOWN AUTHORS. THERE HAVE BEEN BRACEBRIDGE HALL DINNERS IN THE PAST, BUT NOTHING THAT WOULD CONSTITUTE THE SEEDING OF A TRADITION. I THINK THIS HAS BEEN A TERRIBLE MISSED OPPORTUNITY, AND I REFLECT THIS EDITORIALLY WHENEVER I'M AFFORDED AN OPPORTUNITY.
AS FOR "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," IT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL OPPORTUNITY FOR THE BRACEBRIDGE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, AND AREA PUBLIC SCHOOLS, TO HAVE ADOPTED A WEEK LONG HALLOWEEN FESTIVAL, HONORING THE AUTHOR OF ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN STORIES OF THE PARANORMAL EVER WRITTEN......AND CELEBRATE THE PROVENANCE THEY WERE GIVEN BY ONE OF CANADA'S LEADING LITERARY REVIEWERS OF THE TIME. BUT JUST BECAUSE IT HASN'T BEEN EMBRACED, DOESN'T STOP A BLOGGER LIKE ME, FROM PRESENTING THE STORY, ABRIDGED AS IT MUST BE, FOR PURPOSES OF THIS BLOG. IT'S FOR READERS WHO LOVE OUR MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE STRAIGHT-UP......HISTORY ENJOYED FOR WHAT IT HAS BEEN, AND WHAT IT HAS MEANT EVER SINCE. I STILL REGRET THAT WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR HADN'T INCLUDED A WEE NOTE, BACK TO THE TOWN, IN AUGUST 1864, EXPLAINING WHY HE FELT THIS MEMORIAL TRIBUTE, WAS IMPORTANT TO THE FLEDGLING TOWN, BUILT ON THE EMBANKMENT OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER. BOY OH BOY, WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN EASIER TO WORK WITH, THAN THE COLD SELL TODAY.
"ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YARDS FROM THE TREE, A SMALL BROOK CROSSED THE ROAD, AND RAN INTO A MARSHY AND THICKLY-WOODED GLEN, KNOWN BY THE NAME 'WILEY'S SWAMP'. A FEW ROUGH LOGS, LAID SIDE BY SIDE, SERVED FOR A BRIDGE OVER THIS STREAM. ON THAT SIDE OF THE ROAD WHERE THE BROOK ENTERED THE WOOD, A GROUP OF OAKS AND CHESTNUTS MATTED THICK WITH WILD GRAPE-VINES, THREW A CAVERNOUS GLOOM OVER IT. TO PASS THIS BRIDGE, WAS THE SEVERIST TRIAL. IT WAS AT THIS IDENTICAL SPOT THAT THE UNFORTUNATE (MAJOR) ANDRE WAS CAPTURED, AND UNDER THE COVERT OF THOSE CHESTNUTS AND VINES WERE THE STURDY YEOMEN CONCEALED WHO SURPRISED HIM. THIS HAS EVER SINCE BEEN CONSIDERED A HAUNTED STREAM, AND FEARFUL ARE THE FEELINGS OF A SCHOOL-BOY, WHO HAS TO PASS IT ALONE AFTER DARK," WROTE IRVING.
"AS HE APPROACHED THE STREAM HIS HEART BEGAN TO THUMP; HE SUMMONED UP, HOWEVER, ALL HIS RESOLUTION, GAVE HIS HORSE HALF A SCORE OF KICKS IN THE RIBS, AND ATTEMPTED TO DASH BRISKLY ACROSS THE BRIDGE; BUT INSTEAD OF STARTING FORWARD, THE PERVERSE OLD ANIMAL MADE A LATERAL MOVEMENT, AND RAN BROADSIDE AGAINST THE FENCE. ICHABOD, WHOSE FEARS INCREASED WITH THE DELAY, JERKED THE REINS ON THE OTHER SIDE, AND KICKED LUSTILY WITH THE CONTRARY FOOT; IT WAS ALL IN VAIN; HIS STEED STARTED, IT IS TRUE, BUT IT WAS ONLY TO PLUNGE TO THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROAD INTO A THICKET OF BRAMBLES AND ALDER-BUSHES. THE SCHOOLMASTER NOW BESTOWED BOTH WHIP AND HEEL UPON THE STARVELING RIBS OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO DASHED FORWARDS, SNUFLING AND SNORTING, BUT CAME TO A STAND JUST BY THE BRIDGE, WITH A SUDDENNESS THAT HAD NEARLY SENT HIS RIDER SPRAWLING OVER HIS HEAD. JUST AT THIS MOMENT A PLASH TRAMP BY THE SIDE OF THE BRIDGE, CAUGHT THE SENSITIVE EAR OF ICHABOD. IN THE DARK SHADOW OF THE GROVE, ON THE MARGIN OF THE BROOK, HE BEHELD SOMETHING HUGE, MISSHAPEN, BLACK AND TOWERING. IT STIRRED NOT, BUT SEEMED GATHERED UP IN THE GLOOM LIKE SOME GIGANTIC MONSTER READY TO SPRING UPON THE TRAVELLER."
THE SKETCH BOOK ACCOUNT, OF ICABOD'S FATEFUL NIGHT, CONTINUES: "THE HAIR OF THE AFFRIGHTED PEDAGOGUE ROSE UPON HIS HEAD WITH TERROR. WHAT WAS TO BE DONE? TO TURN AND FLY WAS NOW TOO LATE; AND BESIDES, WHAT CHANCE WAS THERE OF ESCAPING GHOST OR GOBLIN, IF SUCH IT WAS, WHICH COULD RIDE UPON THE WINGS OF THE WIND? SUMMONING UP, THEREFORE, A SHOW OF COURAGE, HE DEMANDED IN STAMMERING ACCENTS, 'WHO ARE YOU?' HE RECEIVED NO REPLY. HE REPEATED HIS DEMAND IN A STILL MORE AGITATED VOICE. STILL THERE WAS NO ANSWER. ONCE MORE HE CUDGELLED THE SIDES OF THE INFLEXIBLE GUNPOWDER, AND SHUTTING HIS EYES, BROKE FORTH WITH INVOLUNTARY FERVOUR, INTO A PSALM TUNE. JUST THEN THE SHADOWY OBJECT OF ALARM PUT ITSELF IN MOTION, AND WITH A SCRAMBLE AND A BOUND, STOOD AT ONCE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. THOUGH THE NIGHT WAS DARK AND DISMAL, YET THE FORM OF THE UNKNOWN MIGHT NOW IN SOME DEGREE, BE ASCERTAINED. HE APPEARED TO BE A HORSEMAN OF LARGE DIMENSIONS AND MOUNTED ON A BLACK HORSE OF POWERFUL FRAME. HE MADE NO OFFER OF MOLESTATION OR SOCIABILITY, BUT KEPT ALOOF ON ONE SIDE OF THE ROAD, JOGGING ALONG ON THE BLIND SIDE OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO HAD NOW GOT OVER HIS FRIGHT AND WAYWARDNESS."
EVERY ONE OF US, AT SOME POINT IN OUR LIFE'S JOURNEY, HAS FOUND OURSELVES IN A SIMILARLY UNSETTLING SITUATION, AS THE GOOD MR. CRANE. MAYBE WE HAVE COME UPON SOMETHING WE MIGHT HAVE BELIEVED TO BE AN APPARITION, HOVERING IN A DOORWAY; OR WITNESSED WHAT APPEARED TO BE A VICTORIAN WOMAN, WALKING THROUGH A LOCAL CEMETERY, SUDDENLY VANISHING INTO THIN AIR, UPON YOUR APPROACH.....SUCH THAT ONE QUESTIONS THE SENSES. MAYBE IT WAS THE CASE WE WERE FRIGHTENED, WHILE ON A PASSIVE COUNTRYSIDE HIKE, WHEN WE HEARD AN ANIMAL THRASHING IN THE UNDERBRUSH, FEARING THAT A BEAR MIGHT BE FLEXING FOR AN ATTACK. THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT, UNSETTLE THE NERVES, AND ENGAGE OUR IMAGINATIONS.
I WAS IN SUCH A SITUATION ONCE, WHEN ON MY WAY HOME, ON A MIDNIGHT HIKE, TO A COTTAGE LOCATED ON THE EXTENSION OF BEAUMONT DRIVE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, I WAS STOPPED AT THE INTERSECTION TO KIRBY'S BEACH, BY THE STRANGE APPEARANCE OF A WOLF. ONLY ONE THANKFULLY. I HAD NO WEAPON TO THWART AN ATTACK EXCEPT MY BARE HANDS. THERE WERE NO NEARBY RESIDENCES TO SEEK ASSISTANCE, AND YELLING WOULD HAVE SERVED LITTLE PURPOSE, AT THAT POINT, OTHER THAN TO POSSIBLY, BUT NOT LIKELY, SCARE OFF THE LONE WOLF. THERE WAS ENOUGH MOONLIGHT, TO SEE THE ANIMAL CLEARLY, STANDING IN MY WAY. IT GROWLED, BARED ITS TEETCH, AND BEGAN TO MOVE AROUND ME, BUT NEVER TRIED TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US. I MOVED IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION, SO THAT I EVENTUALLY GAINED OPEN ROAD TO THE BEAUMONT FARM, LESS THAN HALF A KILOMETRE WEST. THE WOLF, OF SUBSTANTIAL SIZE AND WEIGHT, NEVER TOOK ITS EYES OFF ME, AND I NEVER LOST MY PERSPECTIVE EITHER. AFTER A MINUTE OR SO OF SHIFTING LOCATIONS, THE WOLF STOOD WHERE I HAD BEGUN THE SHOWDOWN, AND I WAS NOW UNOBSTRUCTED ON MY ESCAPE ROUTE. I KNEW IT WAS POINTLESS TO ATTEMPT TO OUTRUN THE WOLF, SO I JUST CONTINUED TO ACT INDIFFERENT, SHOWING NO SIGNS OF FEAR. I WAS SCARED TO DEATH HOWEVER, BECAUSE I WAS SURE OTHER WOLVES WERE IN THE VICINITY. WE STOOD STARING EYE TO EYE, AND WITHOUT WARNING, THE ANIMAL MADE WHAT APPEARED TO BE A LUNGE FORWARD, SENDING ME BACK, AND THEN IN THE SAME SUCCESSION OF MOVEMENTS, TURNED AWAY ALMOST AS IF IT HAD BEEN SCARED AWAY BY SOMETHING ELSE. POSSIBLY MY GUARDIAN ANGEL THWACKED IT ON THE END OF ITS NOSE. I DON'T KNOW, BUT I RAN ALL THE WAY HOME AFTER THAT ENCOUNTER. SO HOW ABOUT YOU? DO REMEMBER TIMES WHEN, ALL OF A SUDDEN, YOUR SENSE OF SECURITY AND NORMALCY WAS SHATTERED, BY SOME UNEXPECTED, UNEXPLAINED INTERVENTION....BENIGN OR OF SOME PARANORMAL QUALITY, NEVER FULLY EXPLAINED? MOST CAN BE EXPLAINED. SOME REMAIN LIFE-LONG MYSTERIES.
"ICHABOD, WHO HAD NO RELISH FOR THIS STRANGE MIDNIGHT COMPANION, AND BETHOUGHT HIMSELF OF THE ADVENTURE OF BROM BONES, WITH THE GALLOPING HESSIAN, NOW QUICKENED HIS STEED IN HOPES OF LEAVING HIM BEHIND." WRITES IRVING OF MR. CRANE'S EXIT FROM WHAT HE BELIEVED WAS IMMINENT PERIL. "THE STRANGER HOWEVER, QUIKENED HIS HORSE TO AN EQUAL PACE. ICHABOD PULLED UP, AND FELL INTO A WALK, THINKING TO LAG BEHIND - THE OTHER DID THE SAME. HIS HEART BEGAN TO SINK WITHIN HIM; HE ENDEAVOURED TO RESUME HIS PSALM TUNE, BUT HIS PARCHED TONGUE CLOVE TO THE ROOF OF HIS MOUTH, AND HE COULD NOT UTTER A STAVE. THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THE MOODY AND DOGGED SILENCE OF HIS PERTINACIOUS COMPANION THAT WAS MYSTERIOUS, AND APPALLING. IT WAS SOON FEARFULLY ACCOUNTED FOR. ON MOUNTING A RISING GROUND WHICH BROUGHT THE FIGURE OF HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLER IN RELIEF AGAINST THE SKY, GIGANTIC IN HEIGHT, AND MUFFLED IN A CLOAK. ICHABOD WAS HORROR-STRUCK, ON PERCEIVING THAT HE WAS HEADLESS, BUT HIS HORROR WAS STILL MORE INCREASED, ON OBSERVING THE HEAD, WHICH SHOULD HAVE RESTED ON HIS SHOULDERS, WAS CARRIED BEFORE HIM ON THE POMMEL OF HIS SADLE! HIS TERROR ROSE TO DESPARATION; HE RAINED A SHOWER OF KICKS AND BLOWS UPON GUNPOWDER, HOPING, BY A SUDDEN MOVEMENT, TO GIVE HIS COMPANION THE SLIP - BUT THE SPECTRE STARTED A FULL JUMP WITH HIM. AWAY, THEN, THEY DASHED THROUGH THICK AND THIN; STONES FLYING AND SPARKS FLASHING AT EVERY BOUND. ICHABOD'S FLIMSY GARMENTS FLUTTERED OVER HIS HORSE'S HEAD, IN THE EAGERNESS OF HIS FLIGHT.
"THEY HAD NOW REACHED THE ROAD WHICH TURNS OFF TO SLEEPY HOLLOW; BUT GUNPOWDER, WHO SEEMED POSSESSED WITH A DEMON, INSTEAD OF KEEPING UP, MADE AN OPPOSITE TURN, AND PLUNGED HEADLONG DOWN HILL TO THE LEFT. THIS ROAD LEADS THROUGH A SANDY HOLLOW, SHADED BY TREES FOR ABOUT A QUARTER OF A MILE, WHERE IT CROSSES THE BRIDGE FAMOUS IN GOBLIN STORY; AND JUST BEYOND THE SWELL, THE GREEN KNOLL, ON WHICH STANDS THE WHITEWASHED CHURCH.
"AS YET THE PANIC OF THE STEED HAD GIVEN HIS UNSKILLFUL RIDER AN APPARENT ADVANTAGE IN THE CHASE; BUT JUST AS HE HAD GOT HALFWAY THROUGH THE HOLLOW, THE GIRTHS OF THE SADDLE GAVE WAY, AND HE FELT IT SLIPPING FROM UNDER HIM. HE SEIZED IT BY THE POMMEL AND ENDEAVOURED TO HOLD IT FIRM, BUT IN VAIN; AND HAD JUST TIME TO SAVE HIMSELF BY CLASPING OLD GUNPOWDER ROUND THE NECK, WHEN THE SADDLE FELL TO THE EARTH, AND HE HEARD IT TRAMPLED UNDER FOOT BY HIS PURSUER. FOR A MOMENT OF TERROR OF HANS VAN RIPPER'S WRATH, PASSED ACROSS HIS MIND - FOR IT WAS HIS SUNDAY SADDLE; BUT THIS WAS NO TIME FOR PETTY FEARS; THE GOBLIN WAS HARD ON HIS HAUNCHES; AND UNSKILLED RIDER THAT HE WAS, HE HAD MUCH ADO TO MAINTAIN HIS SEAT; SOMETIMES SLIPPING ON ONE SIDE, SOMETIMES TO ANOTHER, AND SOMETIMES, JOLTED ON THE HIGH RIDGE OF HIS HORSE'S BACKBONE, WITH A VIOLENCE THAT HE VERILY FEARED WOULD CLEAVE HIM ASUNDER."
PLEASE REJOIN THE STORY OF ICHABOD CRANE, AND HIS TERROR-FILLED RIDE FROM THE MENANCE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, IN TOMORROW'S PART THREE OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
THANKS SO MUCH FOR KEEPING ME COMPANY. THERE'S MUCH MORE TO COME.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN.
Part 3
Part 3
BRACEBRIDGE, MUSKOKA, AND THE LEGENDARY RIDE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN
ICHABOD....POOR FELLOW
"IRVING DIED ON THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 28TH, 1859, AND ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF HIM WAS BURIED ON THE 1ST OF DECEMBER, AT TARRYTOWN. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL WINTER DAY, CLEAR AND SUNNY, RADIANT WITH THE STILL LINGERING INDIAN SUMMER, WHICH SHED A SOFT AND MELANCHOLY LIGHT OVER THE SOLEMN SCENE. 'IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN DAYS,' SAID THE MOURNERS, AS THEY RODE FROM 'SUNNYSIDE,' TO CHRIST CHURCH, WHERE THE FUNERAL SERVICES WERE HELD, AND THENCE TO THE CEMETERY, ABOUT A MILE DISTANT, ON THE SIDE OF A HILL, WITH A VIEW OF THE HUDSON ON ONE SIDE, AND ON THE OTHER, OF THE VALLEY OF SLEEPY HOLLOW - CLASSIC GROUND WHICH THE GENIUS OF IRVING HAS MADE IMMORTAL," WROTE RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, IN HIS BRIEF BIOGRAPHY, ACCOMPANYING THE 1893 REPUBLICATION OF "THE SKETCH BOOK."
MY 1893 EDITION OF WASHINGTON IRVING'S, "THE SKETCH BOOK," IS NEARING THE POINT, WHERE LIKE ICHABOD CRANE, IT WILL SOON RETURN TO THE EARTH FROM WHICH IT CAME. ONE OF THREE IN THE REPRINT SERIES FROM THE 1890'S, I PURCHASED AT THE EWING ESTATE AUCTION, IN THE MID 1980'S, AT THE ZISKA ROAD FARMSTEAD, IN BRACEBRIDGE, IS IN FAILING HEALTH, DUE TO THE POORER QUALITY PAPER ON WHICH IT WAS PRINTED. THE ACID CONTENT IN THE PAPER IS ACTUALLY WORKING FROM THE INSIDE OUT, TO TURN THE PAPER INTO A FINE DUST. I'VE HAD SEVERAL BOOKS DETERIORATE IN THIS FASHION, BUT THEY WERE NEVER VALUABLE TEXTS TO START WITH. WHILE I WOULD LIKE TO OWN FIRST EDITIONS OF BOTH "THE SKETCH BOOK," FROM 1819 AND "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," CIRCA 1822, I DON'T HAVE THE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IT WOULD TAKE TO MAKE THE ACQUISITIONS. THE CHEAPER VERSIONS OF THE SAME BOOKS, OF THE 1890'S, WERE PUBLISHED FOR THE MASSES, AND WERE OFTEN KNOWN BROADLY AS THE "POPULAR EDITION," AND THE "CHEAP EDITION." THE PAPER WAS OF LESSER QUALITY, AND YET, IT HAS STILL LASTED FOR WELL MORE THAN A CENTURY, UP TO AND INCLUDING HALLOWEEN 2013....AND ITS OBLIGING KINDNESS TO THIS WRITER, OFFERING THE OPEN PAGES OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW." I WILL LOOK AFTER THIS BOOK, AS BEST I CAN, IN AN ARCHIVE'S SENSE, BUT I KNOW IT WON'T BE OF MUCH USE IN ANOTHER TEN YEARS, AS EVEN NOW, ALL IT WOULD TAKE IS A MODEST AMOUNT OF ROUGH HANDLING TO DISINTEGRATE TOTALLY. IT IS KIND OF A SPIRITED LITTLE COLLECTION, AND IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, IN THE FACT THAT IT CAME FROM A BRACEBRDIGE AREA FARMSTEAD, WHEN THE TOWN ITSELF CARRIES THE PROVENANCE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. IF YOU ARE JUST JOINING THE BLOG TODAY, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY, WHEN THE WASHINGTON IRVING SERIES BEGAN. YOU WILL LEARN ABOUT THE PROVENANCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON IRVING'S BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND HOW THE NAME WAS SELECTED BY POSTAL AUTHORITY, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, IN 1864, FOR THE TITLE OF THE NEW POST OFFICE FOR THE PIONEER HAMLET. THE UNFORTUNATE REALITY IS, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS NEVER IN ITS HISTORY, DECIDED PUBLICLY, AT LEAST, TO FURTHER DEVELOP THE INHERENTLY POSITIVE RELATIONSHIP, WITH ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN WRITERS IN THE WORLD. PITY.
WE NOW REVIST THE LAST FEW MOMENTS OF THE WILD WOODLAND RIDE, OF IRVING'S TRAGIC CHARACTER, ICHABOD CRANE, THE TEACHER AT THE SLEEPY HOLLOW SCHOOL. IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, ICHABOD WAS BEING CHASED, ON HIS WAY HOME, BY THE HESSIAN TROOPER, BETTER KNOWN AS "THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN." IT'S IS EXPECTED BY IRVING, THAT READERS WILL UNDERSTAND THE HORSEMAN, BY SPECULATION,TO BE THE CHARACTER BRAM BONES, THE OTHER MAN IN COMPETITION FOR ONE OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW DAMSELS. JEALOUSY CAN LED TO MANY SUCH MISADVENTURES. OR, WAS IT A TRUE TO LIFE CASE OF THE SUPERNATURAL MANIFESTATION, OF A FORMER SOLDIER, SEARCHING FOR HIS LOST HEAD.....THE RESULT OF BEING IN THE WAY OF CANNON FIRE, DURING AN UNNAMED BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. PLEASE READ ON:
"AN OPENING IN THE TREES CHEERED HIM WITH THE HOPE, THAT THE CHURCH BRIDGE WAS AT HAND," WROTE WASHINGTON IRVING, OF ICHABOD CRANE'S ILL FATED RIDE, AGAINST THE DARK APPARITION ON THE THUNDEROUSLY LARGE, GALLOPING STEED, IN THE FINAL PARAGRAPHS OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
"THE WAVERING REFLECTION OF A SILVER STAR IN THE BOSOM OF THE BROOK, TOLD HIM THAT HE WAS NOT MISTAKEN. HE SAW THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH DIMLY GLARING UNDER THE TREES BEYOND. HE (ICHABOD) RECOLLECTED WHERE BROM BONES' GHOSTLY COMPETITOR HAD DISAPPEARED. 'IF I CAN BUT REACH THAT BRIDGE,' THOUGHT ICHABOD. 'I AM SAFE'. JUST THEN HE HEARD THE BLACK STEED PANTING AND BLOWING CLOSE BEHIND HIM; HE EVEN FANCIED THAT HE FELT HIS HOT BREATH. ANOTHER CONVULSIVE KICK IN THE RIBS, AND OLD GUNPOWDER SPRUNG UPON THE BRIDGE; HE THUNDERED OVER THE RESOUNDING PLANKS; HE GAINED THE OPPOSITE SIDE, AND NOW ICHABOD CAST A LOOK BEHIND, TO SEE IF HIS PURSUER SHOULD VANISH, ACCORDING TO RULE IN A FLASH OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE. JUST THEN HE SAW THE GOBLIN RISING IN HIS STIRRUPS, AND IN THE VERY ACT OF HURLING HIS HEAD AT HIM. ICHABOD ENDEAVOURED TO DODGE THE HORRIBLE MISSILE, BUT TOO LATE. IT ENCOUNTERED HIS CRANIUM WITH A TREMENDOUS CRASH - HE WAS TUMBLED HEADLONG INTO THE DUST, AND GUNPOWDER, THE BLACK STEED, AND THE GOBLIN RIDER, PASSED BY LIKE A WHIRLWIND," WROTE IRVING, OF THE TEACHER, HAVING BEEN KNOCKED VIOLENTLY OFF HIS MOUNT. BY OF ALL THINGS, A THROWN HEAD....WHICH TURNED OUT SOMEWHAT DIFFERENTLY UPON FINAL INSPECTION.
"THE NEXT MORNING THE OLD HORSE WAS FOUND WITHOUT HIS SADDLE AND WITH THE BRIDLE UNDER HIS FEET, SOBERLY CROPPING THE GRASS AT HIS MASTER'S GATE. ICHABOD DID NOT MAKE HIS APPEARANCE AT BREAKFAST - DINNER HOUR CAME, BUT NO ICHABOD. THE BOYS ASSEMBLED AT THE SCHOOL-HOUSE, AND STROLLED IDLY ABOUT THE BANKS OF THE BROOK; BUT NO SCHOOL MASTER. HANS VAN RIPPER NOW BEGAN TO FEEL SOME UNEASINESS ABOUT THE FATE OF POOR ICHABOD, AND HIS SADDLE. AN INQUIRY WAS SET ON FOOT, AND AFTER DILIGENT INVESTIGATION, THEY CAME UPON HIS TRACES. IN ONE PART OF THE ROAD LEADING TO THE CHURCH, WAS FOUND THE SADDLE TRAMPLED IN THE DIRT; THE TRACKS OF HORSES' HOOFS DEEPLY DENTED IN THE ROAD, AND EVIDENTLY AT A FURIOUS SPEED, WERE TRACED TO THE BRIDGE BEYOND WHICH, ON THE BANK OF A BROAD PART OF THE BROOK, WHERE THE WATER RAN DEEP AND BLACK, WAS FOUND THE HAT OF THE UNFORTUNAE ICHABOD, AND CLOSE BESIDE IT, A PUMPKIN."
THE AUTHOR REPORTS, "THE BROOK WAS SEARCHED, BUT THE BODY OF THE SCHOOL MASTER WAS NOT TO BE DISCOVERED. HANS VAN RIPPER, AS EXECUTOR OF HIS ESTATE, EXAMINED THE SADDLE, WHICH CONTAINED ALL HIS WORDLY EFFECTS. THEY CONSISTED OF TWO SHIRTS AND A HALF; TWO SOCKS FOR THE NECK; A PAIR OF TWO WORSTED STOCKINGS; AN OLD PAIR OF CORDUROY SMALL-CLOTHES; A RUSTY RAZOR; A BOOK OF PSALM TUNES FULL OF DOG'S EARS (FOLDED CORNERS); AND A BROKEN PITCH PIPE. AS TO THE BOOKS AND FURNITURE OF THE SCHOOL HOUSE, THEY BELONGED TO THE COMMUNITY, EXCEPTING COTTON MATHER'S HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT, A NEW ENGLAND GLAND ALMANAC, AND A BOOK OF DREAMS AND FORTUNE-TELLING; IN WHICH LAST WAS A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP, MUCH SCRIBBLED AND BLOTTED BY SEVERAL FRUITLESS ATTEMPTS TO MAKE A COPY OF VERSES, IN HONOUR OF THE HEIRESS OF VAN TASSEL. THESE MAGIC BOOKS AND THE POETIC SCRAWL WERE FORTHRIGHT CONSIGNED TO THE FLAMES BY HANS VAN RIPPER; WHO FROM THAT TIME FORWARD, DETERMINED TO SEND HIS CHILDREN NO MORE TO SCHOOL; OBSERVING THAT HE NEVER KNEW ANY GOOD COME OF THIS SAME READING AND WRITING. WHATEVER MONEY THE SCHOOL MASTER POSSESSED, AND HE HAD RECEIVED HIS QUARTER'S PAY BUT A DAY OR TWO BEFORE, HE MUST HAVE HAD ABOUT HIS PERSON AT THE TIME OF HIS DISAPPEARANCE.
"THE MYSTERIOUS EVENT CAUSED MUCH SPECULATION AT THE CHURCH ON THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY. KNOTS OF GAZERS AND GOSSIPS WERE COLLECTED IN THE CHURCHYARD, AT THE BRIDGE, AND AT THE SPOT WHERE THE HAT AND PUMPKIN HAD BEEN FOUND. THE STORIES OF BROUWER, BROM BONES AND A WHOLE BUDGET OF OTHERS, WERE CALLED TO MIND, AND WHEN THEY HAD DILLIGENTLY CONSIDERED THEM ALL, AND COMPARED THEM WITH THE SYMPTONS OF THE PRESENT CASE, THEY SHOOK THEIR HEADS, AND CAME TO THE CONCLUSION, THAT ICHABOD HAD BEEN CARRIED OFF BY THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. AS HE WAS A BACHELOR, AND IN NOBODY'S DEBT, NOBODY TROUBLED HIS HEAD ANY MORE ABOUT HIM; THE SCHOOL WAS REMOVED TO A DIFFERENT QUARTER OF THE HOLLOW, AND ANOTHER PEDAGOGUE REIGNED IN HIS STEAD.
"IT IS TRUE, AN OLD FARMER, WHO HAD BEEN DOWN TO NEW YORK ON A VISIT SEVERAL YEARS AFTER, AND FROM WHOM THIS ACCOUNT OF THE GHOSTLY ADVENTURES WAS RECEIVED, BROUGHT HOME THE INTELLIGENE THAT ICHABOD CRANE WAS STILL ALIVE; THAT HE HAD LEFT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD, PARTLY THROUGH FEAR OF THE GOBLIN AND HANS VAN RIPPER, AND PARTLY IN MORTIFICATION AT HAVING BEEN SUDDENLY DISMISSED BY THE HEIRESS; THAT HE HAD CHANGED HIS QUARTERS TO A DISTANT PART OF THE COUNTRY; HAD KEPT SCHOOL AND STUDIED LAW AT THE SAME TIME; HAD BEEN ADMITTED TO THE BAR; TURNED POLITICIAN; ELECTIONEERED; WRITTEN FOR NEWSPAPERS; AND FINALLY HAD BEEN MADE A JUSTICE OF THE TEN POUND COURT. BROM BONES, TOO, WHO, SHORTLY AFTER HIS RIVAL'S DISAPPEARANCE, CONDUCTED THE BLOOMING KATRINA IN TRIUMPH TO THE ALTAR, WAS OBSERVED TO LOOK EXCEEDINGLY KNOWING WHENEVER THE STORY OF ICHABOD WAS RELATED, AND ALWAYS BURST INTO A HEARTY LAUGH AT THE MENTION OF THE PUMPKIN; WHICH LED SOME TO SUSPECT THAT HE KNEW MORE ABOUT THE MATTER THAN HE CHOSE TO TELL.
"THE OLD COUNTRY WIVES, HOWEVER, WHO ARE THE BEST JUDGES OF THESE MATTERS, MAINTAIN TO THIS DAY, THAT ICHABOD WAS SPIRITED AWAY BY SUPERNATURAL MEANS; AND IT IS A FAVORITE STORY OFTEN TOLD ABOUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD ROUND THE WINTER EVENING FIRE. THE BRIDGE BECAME MORE THAN EVER AN OBJECT OF SUPERSTITIOUS AWE; AND THAT MAY BE THE REASON WHY THE ROAD HAS BEEN ALTERED OF LATE YEARS, SO AS TO APPROACH THE CHURCH BY THE BORDER OF THE MILL POND. THE SCHOOL HOUSE BEING DESERTED, SOON FELL TO DECAY, AND WAS REPORTED TO BE HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF THE UNFORTUNATE PEDAGOGUE; AND THE PLOUGH-BOY, LOITERING HOMEWARD OF A STILL SUMMER EVENING, HAS OFTEN FANCIED HIS VOICE AT A DISTANCE, CHANTING A MELANCHOLY PSALM TUNE, AMONG THE TRANQUIL SOLITUDES OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."
I HOPE ONE DAY, IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, WILL FIND REASON, AND INITIATIVE, TO ENGAGE THEMSELVES IN THE PROVENANCE OF WHICH THEY ARE ENTITLED. THANKS FOR JOINING TODAY'S BLOG. AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, IN KEEPING WITH THE SITUATION.
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