Welcome Seekers of Ookiness!
You’ve come to the right place!
Of course I have to mention that Halloween at our house was
special this year—with the new addition to the family having just arrived a few
days before—Brielle, our furry, tail wagging Australian cattle dog sister. She got here on the Sunday before Halloween
and strutted out the door with the family to meet various ghosts and goblins
during the Trick or Treat excursion.
This year we had Rosie the vampira and Joey the
fireman. Quite a stretch for Rosie:
trading in fairy wings for bat wings and pixie dust for blood to drink. And Joey was the cutest fireman ever I
saw!
While everyone else gallivanted about the neighborhood I
hung at the house and enjoyed a parade of superheroes, zombies, witches, and
other assorted pirates and thugs. Next
year, though, I’m going to have to pull together my witch’s costume and work on
my cackle. I love Halloween and it’s
been awhile since I celebrated it fully.
Three days later marked the 29th birthday of
Stephanie, my daughter-in-law who passed away last fall. While we can no longer celebrate with cake
and gifts, we celebrate the memory of her sweetness, her talent, her loving
ways, in our hearts always. And I
personally hope that the organs she donated are keeping her spirit alive with
the hearts of very needy recipients who are better for Stephanie’s having
lived. I know she’s an angel now,
watching over all of us.
Social Security Disabilities is STILL stringing me along,
three years, seven months and counting.
I’m so grateful for Joe and Cait and the wonderful home they share with
me. But I wonder what happens to others
who have limitations like mine—or worse than mine even. The system takes money out of paychecks like
clockwork, but when it comes to living up to their end of the deal when payouts
are needed by people who’ve busted their asses all their lives, the bureaucrats
really are supreme pricks. I notice
congress has enough money to vote themselves a raise every session, but not to
put case workers and judges in place to relieve the hearing backlog for
disabled people who lose their homes, belongings, and end up on the
street. And it isn’t just disabled—it’s
like that in all branches of the social services. This government is supposed to be for the
people, by the people, and of the people.
Perhaps politicians need to re-read the Constitution and the Bill of
Rights.
Okay down off my soap box—sorry. Just extremely frustrated, and letting anyone
reading my magazine know that if you’re going through similar experiences, I
feel your pain. Jeez, I can’t write an
on-going nightmare better than the labyrinth of the Social Security
system.
Okay, enough whining for me.
I’ve been taking a break from watching DVDs at night and
turned to reading. I dug out books I got
at library sales in Georgia
before my accident three years ago. I
read “Altered States” last week. Saw the
movie years ago, but never read the book, which was quite good. I also read and highly, highly recommend a
book by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin called “Three Cups of Tea.” Mr. Mortenson is a former mountain climber
who came up short climbing Everest, and ended up in Korphe, a little mountain
village in Baltistan, owing his survival to a guide who hailed from there. During his stay in the little village he saw
children, desperate for education, crowded together, scratching their lessons
in the dirt, on their own. Their teacher
only came a few times a week. The rest of the time the children worked on their
own, outside in the elements. Mortenson
promised he would come back and build them a school. And spent the next year in the states trying
to raise the money. His story is
inspiring.
I will warn
you that if you Google his name, there is a story about his mismanagement of
money, and perhaps there is truth to it, but I will say this: When his critics
were sniffing around building their ‘case’ against him, he was in Baltistan and
areas of Pakistan where there are land mines and gunfights going on, scoping out
locations for the schools he’s built. He
started with nothing and busted his ass at some risk to his own life, not to
mention time spent away from his family, to built schools that educate little
girls for the first time in Muslim history.
These schools offer a neutral education instead of the limited education
offered in the often militant fundamentalist madrasses, that often don’t
educate little girls at all. Perhaps
some of the money Mortenson raised was used inappropriately, but I personally
think if even only a handful of little girls were educated properly so that
they grow up with self-esteem and the knowledge that there is life beyond their
village where women have choices, then Mortenson has done his job.
At any
rate, the book is a fascinating read, and quite inspirational. I highly recommend it, and hope you will
consider this cause. Every time a child,
especially a little girl, is educated in isolated villages, it takes power away
from militant fundamentalists who would
turn that child into a potential terrorist. Education is most definitely the way to turn
the world around. To eventually bring
peace.
I’ve been plugging away on “Zeeons”. It’s going more slowly than I would
like. Lots of research for Part One
scenarios. But I’m getting there. On the other hand, ideas for “Malaise”
keeping crashing into my mind like thunderbolts, and I’m building an ominous
stack of notes. Muahaha!
And then of course there are all the columns and stories for
Owl's Eye View to keep me busy. And
believe me, they do—frantically busy.
Like this issue. As
you’ll see below, there is some seriously ooky stuff! Take a peek!
Chills!
Ter
Larry Nunn interviews Reverend Raymond Raven of the Goth
group “Funeral,” in this month’s “Screech On!”
(Please note that the article was written before Larry’s demise, he did
not return from the grave to make deadline…)
Janet Myers gives Nathan Williams her spot-on analogy
describing Dan Wynthrop in “Swooping Through the Years.”
A creepy little poem will drive you buggy from Lisa Galloway
this issue in “Visceral Verse.”
Melanie Mirth has a story about a woman who feels violated
by the authority of Civic Associations—you’ll want to take notes on “Macabre
Mirth.”
Meredith Alden shares a bit of her family history in her
poem “The Beast” in “From the Perch.
“HMO Boko” will make you question every Prior Authorization
your insurance company requires.
Muahaha!
What does an executioner hear others say—as their heads
roll? He who orchestrates the Dances
with Lady Guillotine has a word for you in my short story, “Quoth the
Executioner.”
What you read is what you get in the fifth installment of my
novel “True Crime Shelf.”
There you have it!
Enjoy the ooky!
TD/11-11-2012
