Why Some Vampires Don't Suck, I Guess!

I found this interesting photo this weekend and thought I would share it with you.  Notice the middle finger on Kristen Stewart's left hand.  It appears to be a good two inches longer than her first finger and an inch and a half longer than her ring finger.  I think I remember some ancient lore that suggested that an extra long middle finger on the left hand was tied to vampirism or lycanthropy or witchcraft or Godzilla, maybe.  Anyway, I bet that finger is what attracted her to playing the part of Bella Swan, which means "beautiful bird," in TWILIGHT.  Get it? Beautiful "bird?"   Or maybe it was just the oodles of money and fawning fans that made her do it.  Whatever the reason, I'll bet she got in trouble a lot in high school just for raising her hand.

After that truly sophomoric opening paragraph, I'd like to say seriously that the printer's ink devoted to NEW MOON this past week was just amazing, as was the number of living, breathing non-vampires who bought tickets to see it.  Here in Cape Cod away from the POST-STANDARD, I happened upon three really interesting articles in the CAPE COD TIMES and USA TODAY.  Maybe the most amazing fact I garnered from those stories was included in one of those little bar graphs the USA TODAY love to use.  The graph revealed that 87% of all tickets were sold to females.  No surprise there.  What was surprising though was the fact that while  35% of the total tickets were sold to the under 25 female age group, the largest percentage, 44%, were sold to the 25 -44 year old lady group.  In several blogs I poked fun at the teenage set sucking up everything TWILIGHT.  I should have been poking fun at their moms and older sisters!

In fact, I probably shouldn't have made fun of the teen TWILIGHT-mania.  Check out this quote from Elizabeth Gruner, an English professor at the University of Richmond.  "Vampire stories appeal to teens because vampires are eternal teens--they stay up late, exchange bodily fluids, engage in illicit practices and live forever, and most teens think they're immortal, too."  (USA TODAY, 11/23/2009)  That kind of says it all.

A 25+ TWILIGHT lover, Jennifer Stevens Aubrey, quoted in the same USA TODAY article said, "Teens perceive Edward as an ideal romantic mate, despite being a vampire and rather controlling and what someone said is the likeliest candidate for a restraining order.  He's so into  (Bella).  The adults compare him to their own partners, who obviously can't match up."  As Valerie Gibson, TV call-in show host put it in the Nov. 23 article, TWILIGHT may be "multi-generational" because it is "a testimony to the emptiness of contemporary relationships."  These critics suggest something far deeper than I ever realized was pumping its way through the blood streams of Edward, Bella, Jacob, and the rest.

I really like it when this blog gets interactive like it did with the 7 Wonders.  It would be great if some ladies in the 25+ demographic reacted to this posting.  But then you might all be too busy, what with school, work, and kids to have had a chance to read any of this vamp. lit.

Finishing Up The Wonders List

Birds Nest in the Christmas Tree Made of Lobster Traps on the Harbor in Provincetown

Let me list some of the 'nango Wonders that have gone unmentioned in my blogs, but were mentioned by people who responded.  They include the sulphur springs up Falls Boulevard, site of a long gone hotel where people "took the waters;" the tunnel-like path that ran from Hickory Estates to P&C Plaza; the Ovate Amber Snail, that lives at the base of Chittenango Falls.  Those 3 belong on a natural wonders list.  Some of the recalled man-made wonders were the old American Legion Hall that towered over Sun Chevy just like "momma's house towered over the Bates' Motel," the "ungodly number of pizza parlors and dollar stores," the Grant's Department Store that had its own restaurant where you could get all the liver and onions you could eat on Wednesday nights for $1.29 (of course, not many people could eat any), the Radio Shack where Kent Bradshaw worked, and the water tower on the hill above the village, that used to be decorated with a big star at Christmas.  Bill Brewer used to call the water tower star "the Entire Chittenango Christmas Pageant."

Those of you who mildly chastised me for not including Chittenango Falls, the Canal Boat Museum, or the Erie Canal itself on my original "Seven Wonders" List, remember that I was going for laughs and the 3 aforementioned wonders are too serious.  It is for that reason that I also failed to include the new Sullivan Free Library building.

Two active businesses suggested as wonders were the North Pole, and Chittenango Video suggested by part owner and operator, Annie Shanahan.  Remember that in my blog I encourage shameless self promotion in all forms. 

Thanks to these 'nangoites and 'nango expatriats, who, in no particular order, provided ideas and memories.  Kara Sherlock, Kristin Alongi, Sue Terwilliger, Steve Feher, Lora Evans Farber, Steve Melchiskey, Karen Fauls-Traynor, Michelle Albee Matto, Nancy Wright Donovan, Heather LaPlante, Dave Fischer, Karl Houck, Nancy Lenzen Davis, Jamie Pittman, Jenelle Terwilliger, Amanda Horning, Matt Hess, Jodie Ralston, John Spiridigliozzi, Peggy Bevz Nunez, Stacy Guhin Seubert, Randy Pittman, April Grover, Rob Niederhoff, Ericka Granish, and Annie Shanahan.  If I missed anyone, let me know.  If you're listed and not sure why, what can I say.

I found a really interesting article about "New Moon," and my next blog will be titled "Why Some Vampires Don't Suck, I Guess."

Memories, In Your Own Write

A Field of Black-eyed Susans Still in Bloom on Cape Cod, Yesterday

The "Wonders" postings really struck a chord for people.  Because I have been blogging from Cape Cod the last few days, and we're going to head out to P'town this afternoon, I decided to let some of the responders do my work for today.  Below are some of my favorite remarks with the speaker's name and current home after it. I'm  not positive about where these folks now live, but I do know they all once lived in Chittenango

“I've got it! How about The Gum Pole on Lake Street? Perhaps it's gone now, but I remember a telephone pole covered from top to bottom in chewed pieces of gum on Lake Street right across from the elementary school. I always tried to have gum chewed and ready whenever I walked by it :-”--Amanda Horning,  Los Angeles

"that was merilee lynch's dad and the summer when i was 13 i worked at Agway down in Chittenango Station, unloading freight cars of horse feed and helping customers with farm and garden supplies. I used to ride from Brinkerhoff hill road on my bike to the job at 6:30am and stop in to see Mr. Lynch and pickup 3 or 4 fresh "taillights" or "headlights" or plain ones, if the others weren't ready. They were always so hot that I couldn't eat them until half way down that long road to the Agway. He used to throw in a free donut sometimes and was always nice. I went to nursery school with Merilee, if you can believe that.....i still search out true donut stores if just to bring back that aroma-memory of those far-gone days..."

Steve Melchiskey, Maine, I think

"so many of those places I have never even heard of! Chittenango with a bowling alley?! I would have liked that and a bakery! my old memories only go back to Peters supermarket and Ames!"--Kristin Alongi, Ithaca, Cornell

"I would also like to nominate Canaseraga Park. All summer long we would get on a bus and head there for a FREE full day of swimming lessons and wild   mostly unsupervised fun (except for Coach D. with his megaphone). THE COLDEST water ever but so much fun!!"--Nancy Lenzen Davis, Hartford, Conn.

"I loved hiking the Ames Trail. An adventure always awaited!"--Lora Evans Farber, Albany

“ saw that new dentist office on Sunday and almost ran off the road as I gawked while i drove.  Crazy."--Matt Hess, Syracuse

when i was a kid, the P&C . . .they had a roller belt that when they bagged your groceries (back before plastic bags even), they'd put them in crates and push it down the belt, through a window and the rollers went outside.  so you just pick them up curbside.  the baggers would even wait w/the groceries until you got there and help put them in the car.  the old P&C was awesome.  the bakery had a sit-down area and they made the best half-moon cookies ever.  ah, memories. remember that, Mr. E?"  Peggy Bevz Nunez, Fort Drum--Indeed, I do remember it, Peg. 

“Waldmans... the pizzeria in the old building.  No dollar stores.  The plaza not being a ghost plaza...  Change is annoying sometimes."--Peggy, again

To everyone:  It would seem that we are blessed by the place we call home or once called home. Happy Thanksgiving.

Did We Always Know That Chittenango Was So Full of Wonders

Thanks, everyone.  Yesterday's blog received dozens of  comments and responses, a new record for THE BLUE MOON GRILLE.  The comments were replete with wisdom that would have made Stan, the innkeeper in the play SATURDAY NIGHT AT THE BLUE MOON GRILLE, proud. Usually Kim Schmitte Matthias responds from the greatest distance, Southern California, but this time Nancy Wright Donovan weighed in from Australia.  The responses went in three directions. People wanted to nominate "wonders," particularly from the past, and then they wanted to reminisce about these wonders and, finally they wanted to discuss how much  had changed.  Steve Feher hasn't been to Chittenango since 1998.  He wrote, "Scary to think of all the places that have changed/gone out of business/missing/etc.  Sounds like I wouldn't recognize the place today."

The first cooperative "wonders" list involves Ancient Retail Emporiums.  People remember fondly those places where they shopped as kids.  There were so many nominations that the list rolled past seven.

Wonders of the Ancient Chittenango Retail World

1.  Lynch's Bakery.  People most loved reminiscing about the headlights, tail lights, chocolate glaze and peanut donuts, and dinner rolls.  Nancy Lenzen Davis recalled stopping at Lynch's after church when St. Pat's was in the village.  Jack Lynch, proprietor of Lynch's Bakery, passed away recently.  The bakery is now a SUBWAY and St. Pat's is an apartment house.

2.  Waldman's Department Store.  Dave Fischer remembered it as Waldron's. (Gene Waldron was the SU point guard back in the early 80's and Waldman's had a great selection of sneakers. Perhaps that skewed your thoughts.)  Our relatives loved coming to Chittenango just to shop at Waldman's.  Nicknamed Eli's Cardboard Shop, Waldman's, long out of business, is now Michael's Restaurant.

3.  Perrone's Drugstore.  A drugstore that was so much more.  Perrone's now is an empty storefront.

4.  Mayer's Market.  One response suggested that one of the Mayers brother had died causing the market's closure.  Like Mark Twain sort of said, "Reports of his death are greatly exaggerated."  I imagine Mayers' Market closed because of the expansion of supermarkets.  Mayers had the greatest meat counter in central New York.  You could do an entire shopping in the building that now is the Emerald City Grill. 

5.  The P&C Market when it was on Tuscarora Road.  Now the Salvation Army.

6.  The Canteen.  Jim Boeheim's favorite restaurant.  Now an empty lot.

7.  Sharon's Luncheonette.  Now an engineering office.

8.  Grant's begat Ames' which begat Name Brand Deals (No Big Deals) which begat a big empty store.

9   Smith IGA which is now a Dollar store.

10.  Chittenango Farm Supply--now an empty lot.

11.  The Bowling Alley--now a parking lot.

12.  The Chittenango Hotel--now Mike Quirk's dance studio.

13.  Sandy Hatch's Agway--I once held the rope when Bill Brewer hung off the front of the top floor to paint it.  Now, deserted, I believe.

They say, "change is good."  They say, "you can't go home again."  They sing, "they take paradise and put up a parking lot."  You can choose your favorite quote.  I wonder how many people who read this posting said, at one time or another, something to the effect of, "Chittenango!  Man, I can't wait to get out of here."  Funny how "absence makes the heart grow fonder" or "time heals all wounds."  I loved writing yesterday's blog, which was meant to be silly, and I also loved the more serious responses that it garnered.  Kim Matthias e-mailed a poem that she wrote some time ago about Chittenango and the Oz mentality.  If Kim will allow, I'll put it in my blog sometime.  In her poem, Kim reminds her readers of the theme that, "there's no place like home."  Probably if you took all the trite quotes I have used in this paragraph and pureed them in a blender, some truth would become apparent.  Whatever is the truth, Chittenango seems to be a place of "wonder."

(I've got at least enough stuff for another blog, and eventually I'll list everyone who contributed to these blogs.  If you know anyone who you think might enjoy reading or participating and that person isn't a FACEBOOKER, tell them the Blue Moon Grille blog can be found at wwwmotleyplayer.blogspot.com/  No dot after the w's, and don't forget the /.)

The Seven Wonders of Chittenango

I'm not sure who first started it, but creating "seven wonder" lists caught on.  For example, someone made up the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World with structures like the Great Pyramids, the Colossus of Rhodes, and the Lighthouse at Alexandria.  Someone else listed The Seven Natural Wonders of the World, which has spots like Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon. For some time I've been thinking that we needed our own "Seven Wonders of Chittenango," and with the completion of Chittenango's first skyscraper, the Chittenango Dental Center, which from this point forward will be referred to as the Taj Mahal of Teeth, I believe I am ready to suggest our own "Seven Wonders" list.

THE SEVEN WONDERS OF CHITTENANGO

1.  I would be a traitor to the area if THE YELLOW BRICK SIDEWALK was not first on my list.  I'm not sure of this one needs to be repainted or not.

2.  Follow that up with the TAJ MAHAL OF TEETH located in the farmer's field across from P&C (gone out of business) Plaza.  If you live out of town and are coming home during the holiday season, be sure to drive down Rte. 5 and check out this monument to gingivitis.  I understand that eventually L. Frank Baum's dentures will be on display there.

3.  The THREE BIG AUTO PARTS STORES.  Only Chittenango can claim to have more available spark plugs than citizens.

4.  LITTLE BIG BEN, THE CLOCK IN FRONT OF THE VILLAGE PARKING LOT.  I understand that our clock's twin is located at one of the golf courses at Turning Stone.  Interesting, that in the movie LITTLE BIG MAN, a white man, Dustin Hoffman, was paid an exorbitant amount of money to play a Native American.  Now our LITTLE BIG BEN''s twin overlooks the golf course where white men pay an exorbitant amount of money to Native Americans to play golf.

5.  Teddy Fields' CANTEEN INSPIRED CHICKEN FRICASSEE now available for your delectation at Delphia's.

6.  WEDDING PHOTO GAZEBO in Stickles' Park.

7.  CHITTENANGO HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL STADIUM, that field turf monument to Scholastic Athletics or Athletic Scholastics.  Take your pick.  I suggest a naming contest for the stadium, and my personal pick would be FM, EAT YOUR HEART OUT FIELD.  And we've even got big friggin' nets behind the goals to catch errant soccer and lacrosse balls.

I'm sure there are many other great nominations for our SEVEN WONDERS list.  I was hard put not to include the historical kiosk in front of the library or Todd Caputo.  So if you'd like, send me your own personal nominations, and, maybe, I can create a second list.  If this request is as successful as my request for favorite first novel lines, then I won't be making a second list. Take that as a challenge, you slackards and slugabeds.

Deviously Devoted to Dexter

I admit it. I am hooked on both the Dexter novels and the Showtime TV series of the same name. I'm not so hooked that I would buy a DEXTER t-shirt or one of the DEXTER two-faced watches, which are available among many other promotional items, but I did buy the Season 2 & 3 DVD's because we don't subscribe to Showtime. Being devoted to Dexter is the definition of a guilty pleasure. In case you don't know, the character Dexter Morgan is a serial killer with something of a moral code. Dexter only kills people who deserve to be killed. I mean really deserve to be killed, as far as Dexter is concerned. But he's not some avenging angel sort like the vigilantes that Charles Bronson and even John Wayne occasionally played. The twist, you see, is that Dexter not only practices his vengeance to serve justice but because he enjoys it, too.

I first got hooked on DEXTER, during the TV writer's strike. NBC showed a cleaned and censored version of Season One. If I remember correctly, that series led me to read the three novels, which are very different and considerably gorier than the cable tales that use them for a basis. Dexter Morgan is a C.SI., a blood spatter specialist, and it is through his police work that he researches and avenges his victims, who have cheated justice in some way. His adoptive father Harry, a now deceased police officer, recognized when Dexter was young, that his son was a badly broken boy without a moral center. In anticipation of what he was sure Dexter would become, he taught him Harry's Code, which says if you kill, you must kill someone who is evil and has taken at least one life. As a result, Dexter is a well-balanced wacko, who knows exactly what he is--a very bad guy.

The great irony of DEXTER is that normal people who watch him or read about him, root for him as well. We don't want Dexter to get caught. The people he dispatches tend to be such awful human beings that the viewers want Dexter to get away with his crimes. They also pull for his foul-mouthed but effective sister Deb, who is a Miami police officer, and hope that crazy Dexter will settle down in the suburbs and marry his girlfriend, who has two children.

An example of how the books are farther out than the series is the treatment of the two children. On TV, Astor and Cody are sweet little kids. In the books, Dexter has recognized that Astrid and Cody, (different name for the little girl, who knows why) having survived a father who abused their mother, are potential serial killers, themselves. He plans to watch out for them and provide a moral(?) code.

Warning: if you decide to watch an episode of DEXTER,, close your eyes when he does in the bad guys. It ain't pretty, and I admit that I occasionally look away, even though they show a lot more blood at the crime scenes on CBS's CSI or CSI NEW YORK than they do in Dexter's vengeance murders.

I ask myself why do I like this show. I never rubberneck while passing auto accidents or listen to scanners about horrible things happening to real people. Maybe it comes back to my love for horror movies. For Dexter Morgan is certainly a monster, and he readily would admit to that fact.

More on Beginnings and Endings

Pardon the print sizes in today's post. Even though I have made more than 100 entries, I still haven't figured out how to have a uniform print size when I copy text from my desktop, which I will be doing later in this blog. Maybe I'll get it right this time.

Yesterday, I wrote about the importance of first lines and last lines that Ellen Yeomans, the author and instructor at the Caz College class I am attending, discussed. Today, I brought out the first and last lines from two of my young adult novel manuscripts. The first first line is from TISHA AND THE GIANT, the manuscript I have blogged about a lot, and which I have been tuning and retuning for about 5 years. It's the story of a girl who is unaware that she is being stalked by a truly dangerous man. She is also being sort of stalked by a sophomore boy who has a crush on her. This is Kevin Conley, who calls himself the Giant. When the Giant realizes that a bad man is following Tisha, he takes it upon himself to protect her. I have always gone on the basis that the best way to begin a story is to just jump into it. Following that rule, TISHA began,

Tisha tore down the left side of the field. The temperature was 92 degrees under a blazing July sun, and her headband was plastered to her forehead.

Using Ellen Yeomans' suggestion that first sentences be true beginnings for a story, I expanded the opening and made intimations concerning the characters who would be important. The reference to TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD'S Boo Radley comes from part of the story where Tisha wishes she had a secret someone like Boo watching out for her. The result was. . .

Tisha wasn’t thinking about Boo Radley, and she’d never heard of a giant named Kevin Conley, when she tore down the left side of the field on that humid summer afternoon. The temperature was 92 degrees under a blazing July sun, and her headband was plastered to her forehead.

. . .and I like the change. It also ties nicely with the final lines of the novel as I had written them. Two hundred and ninety-seven pages later, I wrote:

Kevin knew that it hadn’t been Boo Radley at all protecting Tisha. It had been the GIANT.

The second set of lines come from NO, DUH! NO, DUH! was titled THE DAY IT HIT THE FAN last year. For the many years before that, it was called THIS DIFFERENT AUTUMN. The poor novel has been rewritten time and again. NO, DUH! is a simple story about a boy and a girl who belong together but have a tough time getting that way. I decided to keep these first and last lines as written because I think they do represent a completeness for the story. The first line actually begins with a chapter title, which rolls directly into the story text.

A Wednesday in Early October. . .

. . .which started for Pete with sunshine, birds singing, Indian Summer warmth, and a seat on the bus behind Maggie Dunlap and Amy Weller, the two girls at Hampton High that he thought were the absolute hottest.

The last line goes from Indian Summer to autumn cold and concludes Pete and Maggie's search to get together.

“Cold hands, warm hearts,” Pete said as they crossed the squeaky porch. Maggie bent and picked up Pete’s books. They paused for a moment for another careful kiss, then went inside, out of the cold autumn afternoon.

Right now I am working on ZOMBIES 'R' US, a novel about teenagers and zombies. My opening line was a pretty boring,

I woke up that morning at least ten minutes late.

Using Ellen Yeoman's suggestion and an idea of my own to begin the novel near the conclusion and then flashback to tell the story, I came up with the following opening which is a lot more exciting.

Jake’s head burst out of the cold, dark water, and he pulled the plastic bag from his clenched teeth so he could gulp in lungs full of air. Treading water in the underwater chamber, he was sure he had never been anywhere so completely dark, and his claustrophobic brain wanted him to scream or to dive back into the water from where he’d come. But he couldn’t because Kaitlyn was there in the darkness. And so was a zombie.

I'd tell you the final line, but I have a lot left to write.

If you've read this far, thanks for listening. I worry that my writing about writing won't be very interesting for others to read, but it is very important for me to do.

About the blonde at the top: I describe Tisha in TISHA AND THE GIANT as the blondest kid in the entire school. Not having any blondes around to photograph except Lucy, I googled "a very blonde girl." The result was a lot of pictures of Hayden Panetierre, several unidentified slutty looking towheads, and a whole selection of free Anime images. So the girl at the top is my cartoon Tisha. At one point in the book, her father is concerned about the shortness of a dress she is wearing. I think this might be the one.

And The First Shall be Last or Vice Versa

Today's photos have nothing to do with today's post. I was outside this afternoon raking and walking around the block, and I saw single leaves in two spots. Because I had just written about the cummings' poem and the burning bush in our yard, I decided to go my camera and capture these two lonely leaves. Our burning bush is now red with berries and a maple leaf was caught within its branches. In the other photo, a single leaf remains at the very top of a tree in Tom and Nancy O'Neill's front yard. The leaf looks like a bird, or perhaps, a star.

I went to a Writing for Children class yesterday morning at Caz College. It was taught by Ellen Yeomans, a very talented Baldswinsville writer and a good teacher. I think I may have been to too many classes and conferences over the years. Occasionally they deflate me rather than inspire me, because so often I hear contradictory opinions on the hows and whys of getting your work published. Still, I try to get at least one special nugget of information or one special idea out of every session I attend, and yesterday, I was very interested in Ellen's attention to the importance of the first line of a book, long or short, and how the last line of that book should bring the story to its logical ending, creating a kind of wholeness to the tale. She was talking at the time about shorter works like middle grade novels, but I'm quite sure she felt strongly about the importance of first and last lines in a novel of any length.

So this afternoon, I decided to do a little first line/last line research using 3 famous novels, 2 of which are my favorites. The first novel, which is definitely not among my top 100, is Melville's MOBY DICK. MOBY starts with the wonderful first line "Call me Ishmael." This line may be the greatest and briefest of character introductions ever penned. So begins Melville's epic voyage through obsession and the whaling industry. The final line of MOBY DICK reads, "It was the devious-cruising Rachael, that in her retracing search, only found another orphan." Man, that is a great last line. The orphan found is, in fact, Ishmael, only survivor of the Pequod and Ahab's obsessive quest. Those two lines certainly do surround the novel in a lovely sense of wholeness. If only the middle hundreds of pages hadn't been so boring.

The first of my beloved books is Shirley Jackson's THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. I feel it necessary to include 1 and 1/2 sentences as this books first line. "No living oranism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within. . ." Great start to a greatly scary and truly literary novel. This opening tells us that this book will be about the insanity of living organisms, and that Hill House is not sane. Ergo, Hill House is a living organism. The last two sentences of HILL HOUSE are needed to constitute a final line. After about 250 frightening pages, and the suicide (?) of the main character, Shirley Jackson tells us, "Hill House itself, not sane, stood against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, its walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone." Even if you never read the book, those final lines could scare you, and they bring the opening intimation to a nice, round, spooky close.

Finally, I searched out the opening and final lines of my favorite novel of all time, which is also my candidate for greatest novel of all time, TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. The importance of first and last lines aren't quite as apparent in Harper Lee's book. The first line is simply "When he was thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow." Quietly starts the wonderful story of Jem, Dill, Scout, and the magnificent Atticus. The final line is pretty simple, too. "(Atticus) would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning." It's really interesting how the book begins and ends about an injury to Jem. Of course, at the end Jem's injury was caused by the despicable Bob Ewell. I think the connection of those 2 lines that provide the final wholeness to the story isn't Jem, but Atticus, who is there for the kids at the beginning, although unmentioned, throughout, and at the end, and possibly, as a symbol, forever.

I would urge my 15 on-line followers and my good-sized bunch of FACEBOOK readers to send me their favorite novel first lines. (Last lines, too, if you want) I'll put them in a great first line blog. Tomorrow or the next day, I'm going to do a post about repairing the first and last lines of two of my YA manuscripts.

You may have seen the awful movie version of THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE a few years ago. It starred Liam Neeson and Catherine Zeta Jones. Know that it bears no resemblance to the wonderful book it is supposedly based on. My most hated part of that movie was when Luke Wilson got his head chopped off. That didn't occur in the book. People in Hill House don't get their heads chopped off. Far worse things happen to them.

Explanations of Last Two Blogs

November 8th's posting can be written as "1(a leaf falls)one1iness." e.e.'s vertical version is to suggest both the shape of a #1 and the fall of a single leaf. The poem contains both the theme of loneliness and the image of a falling leaf. Quite clever for a guy who didn't know how to use capital letters.

Richard Russo's placard above the bar reads: "Here stop and spend a social hour in harmless mirth and fun. Let friendship reign, be just and kind, and evil speak of none." A nice sentiment for a tavern wall.

A Literary Puzzle (sort of)

In his new book THAT OLD CAPE COD MAGIC, Richard Russo, author of EMPIRE FALLS, MOHAWK, NOBODY'S FOOL, and a bunch of other good books, places his main character in a bar called the Old Cape Cod Lounge near Wellfleet. On the wall above the bar is an intricately lettered sign. At first, Griffin, the main character can't read the sign. The bartender tells him, "A couple martinis and it'll make sense." Alcohol assisted or alcohol free, can you read the sign?

heresto pands pen d

asoci al hourin har

mles smirt hand funl

etfri ends hipre ign

bej usta ndkin dan

Devil spe akof no ne.

for those who would autumnfallleafcherish

I really enjoy raking leaves on a bright fall day. This weekend was great for moving leaves and watching leaves move. As I watched the wind choosing individual leaves and sending them on their way to dry and die, I was reminded of a poem by e.e. cummings that I used to share . For those who like the fall and like alternative poetry, this one's for you. If you look carefully, you will see this little verse is a case of form (shape) being content (theme).

1(a

le

af

fa

lls)

one

1

iness.

by e.e. cummings

It's interesting how Charles Schulz and Snoopy looked at a similar leaf differently.

If My Mom Let Me Use the Word, I'd Say This Really Sucks!

I'm looking out my office window on this fine fall day. The sky is blue, there are a few streaky clouds, and the wind is whipping hard enough to convince my silver maple that it really is autumn, and it's about time it dropped its leaves. It is the kind of day where I am prone to feel no malice toward any other person. It's a shame I read the POST STANDARD this morning. Two stories in two different sections of the newspaper suggested I was truly a wimp to sit in my chair and feel that things were O.K. with the world. There are plenty of people to hate out there, and one need not travel to the Middle East to find them.

Shame on me, but when I read the morning paper, I read the sports section first. I read Dave Rahme's lucid and sensitive article "Marrone stands up for Paulus," in which Doug Marrone confronts the issue of the boo-birds, who snarl and howl at Greg Paulus each time he takes the field. Even though this fine coach and fine man offers his broad shoulders to bear the brunt of the bleacher nuts' venom, and, even though, Paulus claims to be deaf to their shouts, everyone with a brain knows those shouts hurt both coach and quarterback. It's ironic that the boo-birds, so desperate for a win to validate whatever it is they need validating, take it out on the young man who is trying harder than anyone else to get that win for them.

After my sports fix, I went to Section A and found on page 5 an article by Michelle Breidenbach entitled " 'Hate, lies,' wore her down, Scozzafava says.' " In this account, I got to read about hatespeak on a national level. Dede Scozzafava seems to be a good person, a caring civic leader, and a person of conscience. She's one of those ladies about whom might be said, "She is her own woman." For being an independent-minded Republican she was scourged nationally by her own party. We're used to this Republican nasty noise from Rush and Bill and their ilk, and it isn't surprising. I was most bothered by the man who called Scozzafava from Oregon and had the audacity to try to beat her up with God. Let me say that I have dozens of fine friends who are fine people and loyal republicans and I honor their right to their political beliefs, but the lunatic fringe is apparently now the voice of the party, and like the boo-birds in the Dome, they are so in need of validation by winning something, that they attacked the fine Republican woman, who was trying to get that for them.

I blog for the fun of it. After reading the two aforementioned stories and thinking about how they had taken some of the joy out of this autumn day, I went back to the archives of "The Blue Moon Grille," my blog. On September 6, 2009, I wrote about attending the first SU football game of the season. My wife and I gave up our season football tickets years ago, not so much because we'd lost interest, but more because of the high DPR ratio in our section. If you aren't familiar with the DPR, that's the "drunks per row." On that Sunday two months ago, I wrote, "Behind me sat the doofus, a fellow who announced loudly from the beginning that he didn't like Greg Paulus or Doug Marrone even though he loved the Orange. He was just like a Republican pulling for the president to fail." He wanted his team to win, but he didn't want those people he didn't like to be part of that success. Those two little sentences were just a little thought I tossed out while talking about the whole game experience, which I really enjoyed. Today they don't seem so little.

FYI: How To Kill A Zombie!

As I've mentioned before in my blog, I really enjoy horror movies and horror stories. I read an article last week that suggested that horror films are particularly successful during times of economic difficulty. I guess the idea is that having a werewolf chaw on your leg is a lot worse than seeing your 401K in the tank. Two current hits on the silver screen would suggest the truth of this theory. Both PARANORMAL ACTIVITY and ZOMBIELAND have been selling a lot of tickets. But the horror folks have gone too far even for me. I discovered today that Mattel is producing TWILIGHT BARBIE. Yes, a Barbie-esque Bella and Kennish Edward are already being sold in Canada and due in the U.S. soon. Is this the end of society as we know it? Are nine year olds expected to play TWILIGHT with their dolls? Will instructions come with the dolls warning the kids that if BellaBarb touches EdwardKen for too long that Bella might just get ravaged like Barbie never dreamed of being ravaged? Will EdKen come with special cream to polish his alabaster skin and onyx eyes? What will BellaBarb say when EdKen rips out the throat of Skipper's dog and drinks its blood? Maybe Hellmouth has really opened up in Sunnydale and the demon marketers are here in full force.

I've always thought things happen for a reason. I have been working on a young adult horror novel called ZOMBIES 'R' US for awhile. Last week I was pondering what a teenager, when faced with the prospect of what to do about a zombie, who had murdered his gym teacher, might do to dispatch this representative of the undead. Why the kid would "google" for a solution of course. So I really googled "How Do You Kill A Zombie?" I was overwhelmed with responses. The best one came from an on-line periodical called the PORTLAND MERCURY. So I can give their advice to you in the event that some zombie tries to sell you an aberration called TWILIGHT BARBIE for Christmas. The answer to the question posed in this posting's title follows:

“DECAPITATION.

To kill zombies, you need to destroy their brains. The most surefire route is simply lopping off the cranium with a chainsaw, machete, or samurai sword. Mind the follow-through, however-- anything less than 100 percent severance just isn't good enough.

BLUDGEONING.

Any blunt object--from a baseball bat to a brick--wielded with suitable force at the cranium will destroy the brain. But be quick on your feet and keep your eye on the target, slugger--when you're this close to a zombie, miss even once and you might as well just hand your brains to the zombie on a silver platter.

BURNING.

Don't have the convenience of a sniper rifle to take out zombies from afar? The next best thing is a Molotov cocktail--just make sure the zombies are far enough away so they'll be reduced to ashes before they can shamble after you.

EXPLODING.

A solid technique, but one that requires heavy weaponry. In the chaos that will doubtlessly strike an urban center after a zombie infestation, make your way to a military storehouse or a morally dubious pawn shop and acquire a rocket launcher. Then shoot, load, and repeat.”

That oughta do it!!

Where are They Now?

I was straightening out my record collection just now. I have about 50 of my old vinyl albums left, and I came upon one by a 60's British pop singer named Sandie Shaw. I'd forgotten all about the album. The Sandie songs I remember were "There Is Always Something There to Remind Me" and the rather dubiously titled "Girl, Don't Come." I remember loving those songs, but there's nothing about the album "To Remind Me" why I would have spent $2.99 and about 4 or 5% tax on it, when in high school, that was a lot of money. It must have been because of her picture on the album cover. She was really cute. We didn't say "hot" back then. We said "cut,e" or if a girl was really, really cute, we said she was "tough." Sandie was "tough," and seeing the old album, made me wonder where she is now. On the back of the album it said, that in 1964, she was an "18-year-old phenomenon." Where do you suppose, "tough" "18-year-old phenomenons" from England end up.

This started me thinking about other "where are they nows" in my life. For example what happened to the kid named Doug who lived at the end of my street when I was 6. He was 8 and carried a little razorblade knife around with him so he could make anyone he met his "blood brother." And I wonder what happened to the ponderous 9 year old twins named Marshall and Maurice who used to knock us down all the time. And how about Toto and Gigi, the weird little boys who lived at the other end of the street.

I wonder what happened to the cute blonde I sat next to in study hall in high school, who was an amazing artist. Is she a painter now? A teacher? Did she get married and give up her art for a husband, kids, and suburbia? Or how about the the older kid who used to check our report cards on the school bus and whack anyone around who didn't get satisfactory grades? I wonder where he went after the took him away for trying to burn down his house?

I wonder what happened to the kid I knew in college who decided to drive his VW bus around the inside of the academic podium in the middle of the night? I know he got tossed out of school, and I heard he went to Vietnam. I don't know if that's true, though.

I have one really memorable "where is he now" from when I was first teaching. There was an English teacher who did drop dead hilarious impersonations of both the principal and the vice-principal. He wasn't much at teaching, though, and one afternoon, he climbed out of his classroom window and never came back. I heard the Vietnam rumor about him, too. Back in those days, I guess anyone who disappeared had gone to Vietnam.

I really wonder what happened to all of those people. I ought to make a whole list of "where are they nows," search them out, and write a book about them. Then I'd not only know where they are, but maybe why I have bothered to remember them.