Ghost Upon the Floor

 As of this writing tonight, all of the Halloween decorations from the front yard are down, and in the house. Most of them are packed away in their boxes. I'm attempting more organization of my Halloween things than I have ever done-- going so far as to take photos of everything I have, and in a neat computer file, organize the photos according to which numbered box they are in. This, as you may expect, with so many things, is a lenghty work in progress.

 A quick story about this process; of Halloween completely, finally, going away. Two weeks ago, on a crisp, cool November morning-- a Saturday-- I thought I heard someone on the porch. I pulled a curtain aside, and on my porch were three Jehovah's Witnesses, who had not yet rung the doorbell (who I had seen before.) They had not yet rung the bell, because they were too busy looking at the few decorataions-- a cloth-faced scarecrow, cornstalks, plastic jack o'lanterns and a seated skeleton. As I watched and expected them to begin to knock-- one of them took out a cell phone, while the other posed with my scarecrow and a group of pumpkins.

 I know a great little about the religion, and the nuances of faith and human experience that Jehovah's Witnesses have toward Halloween-- but I do know it is not celebrated. And there was something about seeing them get enough out of what I had left from All Hallow's Eve to want to snap a cellphone picture-- that made my jack o'lantern heart smile.

 One of the unexpected joys of this past Halloween was finding a holiday TV special from my youth-- which I'd searched for in the past-- available and streaming online.

 "Witch's Night Out" from 1978 originally aired on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, but found later popularity when it aired on the Disney Channel every year from 1983 through the late 90's. I'm not sure which of those years the show would have made it's way to me, but I can tell you that the recorded VHS tape I would watch it on, repeatedly, was a highlight of the Halloweens of my youth.

image: 4gottenlore on Deviant Art

 For anyone who might not be familiar with the special, "Witch's Night Out" stars the voice of Gilda Radner as the Witch, who opens the show lamenting her past prime; an All Hallow's Eve Norma Desmond, of sorts. We are introduced to colorfully, uniquely drawn characters-- trick or treaters Small and Tender, their babysitter Bazooey. One thing that I didn't realize until recent Internet searching is that Malicious, the adult character in the town who hates Halloween, is voiced by the incomparable Catherine O'Hara, who would go on to voice Sally and Shock in "The Nightmare Before Christmas." 

 "Witch's Night Out" holds up so well, and not only on the shoulders of nostalgia. There is a witch being summoned like a fairy godmother and crashing through the window; changing into your Halloween costume's character; lost magic wands and, not the least of it all, the disco song "Witch Magic." For many years, it wasn't Halloween until I heard the chords of that song, and the lyrics "Witch... Magic... Halloween." Thanks to Veoh, I can relive that again, and watched this twice on Halloween. Enjoy.


Watch Witch's Night Out in Family  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

 Today, November 8, 2012 is author Bram Stoker's 165th birthday. A day which has brought us a quite thoughtful Google doodle, and-- to my welcomed surprise-- a popular interest in Stoker's life and work online and in social media. 

Stoker has always been one of my favorite writers, even though I have read so little of his work other than "Dracula." As a man, Bram lived an incredibly interesting life-- one that would take many blog posts to get into, and one I am always looking to read more about. (I currently have an appealing and large biography of him sitting on one of my many bookshelves.)

 In looking through clips and passages and images to mark this post for Stoker's birthday, one comes up with a lot. Few other novels have been capable of creating a character which becomes larger than the book itself-- larger than the other books written because of it, than the movies made based on it, and so on. Although the legend and mythology of the vampire predated Stoker's work, Count Dracula has become synonomous with vampires, and certainly stands as the father of all modern appearances of vampires in popular culture-- as well as the father, in many regards, of modern horror in general. Devices that appear revolutionary in modern horror such as the pseudo-documentary that claims to be real evidence (for instance, the film "The Blair Witch Project") was done years ago with "Dracula" a novel written as all first hand accounts and diary/journal entires. At once, Stoker's novel is atmospheric, truly perfect Gothic horror tale; and, a very worthy piece of serious literature. I've written a bit about readings of "Dracula"-- there is so much in the novel; social commentary on what it means to fear the other (nationally, ethinically, sexually, religiously) abounds, but never hinders the effect the novel has at being such a successful horror story.

 I have many copies of "Dracula," and often can't resist buying new ones I see because I like a cover or a design. Perhaps my favorite copy (other than the worn paperback I devoured in grammar school when I first read it) is this hardback copy featuring the Edward Gorey illustrations. For all the wonderful movies spawned from "Dracula," all the pop-culture art and so on, there is nothing that has ever come up to the experience of reading the book. "3 May. Bistritz. - Left Munich at 8.35..."

 Happy Birthday, Bram.

 I suppose it's appropriate that on All Hallow's Eve, I'm reminded that I'm running out of time. Again, this year's Halloween was barely half of what I'd planned, hoped, wanted, dreamed. But it was great. I made the time for what I could, and it was Halloween.

 This October I baked cookies, traveled to Sleepy Hollow, carved pumpkins, went to haunted houses, picked apples, put up tombstones. And yet there were so many things I didn't get to. Next year, I can hope.

 For me, two things defined this season. The first being my Sleepy Hollow trip. Being in the Hollow in October was wonderful-- and, very soon, I will have all of my photos of the cemetery organized enough to form posts out of them.

 The second defining thing of this season for me was carving pumpkins. I've never done so many. It helped that I inherited five large pumpkins that served a purpose as a decoration for a spaghetti dinner fundraiser two weeks ago. I felt like it was a challenge, daring me to carve them all. And I carved them all but one. The final pumpkin sits on my dining room talbe, hollowed out and ready to carve-- perhaps, as a last hurrah, I will carve something into it this weekend.

 My first carving of the season was a part of my Day of the Dead altar piece to another one of my favorite writers, Ray Bradbury, who we lost this year. I'll post a piece about my altar later this week. The second was inspired by the passing of another artist-- Jerry Nelson, the voice of Count von Count on Seseame Street. There was something about, for lack of a better term, immortalizing the Count in a pumpkin-- and I hope I did him justice.

 My third was a face I have been wanting to do for a long time. I had just had the experience of seeing John Carpenter's original "Halloween" on the big screen thanks to a one night showing by the Dipson Theaters here in Buffalo-- and I was inspired to carve the face of Michael Myers. This I followed up by attempting to reconstruct the jack o'lantern face that is shown during the famous opening credit sequence of that film: a sequence with only the jack o'lantern burning, and the iconic "Halloween" score playing.

 My next carving was a new favorite of mine: Sparky the dog, from Tim Burton's "Frankenwennie." I absolutely loved the film-- I laughed, I cried, I jumped-- and Sparky was a bit of a challenge. I hope I did him some kind of justice.

 I finished this evening with Barnabas Collins from "Dark Shadows." With the Burton film released this year (which I enjoyed quite a bit), and my Sleepy Hollow trip having an unexpected thematic reoccurence of "Dark Shadows" (which I will write about soon)-- I thought it only right that I carve Barnabas.

 And there you have it-- from the Ghost's home to yours, wishing you another Happy Halloween.

The street, the bridge, the church and churchyard- with the statue far right.

My full album of the afternoon (before the cemetery) here:

 While I prepare for Halloween, and get the rest of my Sleepy Hollow posts writtten, tonight I give you a commercial that struck my funny bone. Well done, Snickers. Well done.



YouTube: SnickersBRAND

A lantern, lighting the way to the Old Dutch Church

After the drive full of the changing and falling leaves, I finally got to Sleepy Hollow. I came into the village for the first time at night, well after dark. Crossing the Hudson from Nyack, I can't say for sure what I thought Sleepy Hollow might look, feel like.

 You come into Sleepy Hollow crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge. The long, wide, winding bridge spans the Hudson River and, at night-- at least on the first night I crossed the bridge-- you can look over your shoulder to the south, and see the lights and skyline of New York City. You finish the bridge, pass the tolls, and take a turn-- and you are in Tarrytown and, suddenly, the Village of Sleepy Hollow.

 In the opening of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," Irving describes the area known as Sleepy Hollow, and admits that the area is "properly known by the name of Tarry Town." The actual Village of Sleepy Hollow as it stands now is officially known as such, having changed the name to "Sleepy Hollow" in 1997 (which, my cemetery tour guide would later say, did wonders for their tourism industry.) The Village of Terrytown still exists, home to Washington Irving's home and the delicious Tarrytown Tavern-- but more on those places, later.

The Old Dutch Church

 Driving into the villages of Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow feels small. You are suddenly driving along a winding, hilly, tight street lined with a small and-- absolutely-- sleepy village. In Tarrytown, you begin to see the images of the Horseman. On flags adorning people's homes, on shops and in restaurant windows. And then the sign for the Village of Sleepy Hollow appears, and the Horseman is everywhere. On the town hall, on police and fire vehicles-- and then you are at the center of Sleepy Hollow. All the while you have been driving along the hilly terrain you have been driving down-- and just as you hit the bridge by the church the road begins to climb up.

The altar, with Ichabod jack o'lantern atop.

 The bridge by the church is the bridge by the church. The Horseman's. Washington Irving settled in the area he loved after being sent there during his youth from New York City to avoid the yellow fever outbreak in the late 1700's. There is something so uniquely special, moving, about seeing the inspiration of a story you have loved all your life, and held so dear. Seeing that, yes, the story is real. "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" has long dominated my literary understanding, and my love for the Halloween season. Since childhood, the animated Disney version of the tale has been the standard all other ghost stories are held to. There is so much in the story, about the telling of tales, of ghost stories, about what is and can be truth with the supernatural-- that is so classic, so autumn, so ripe of the harvest, so Halloween. Walking up to the bridge, and seeing what brought Irving to write the story-- still there-- was amazing. No, the bridge is not wooden and covered and in the woods, but the bridge is there. Paved over and modern, there is still a river it stands over-- and you cross the bridge, look up and see the Old Dutch Church; which, too, remains.

Ichabod

 I had tickets to the last performance of "Irving's Legend" for the evening, which takes place in the Old Dutch Church. "Irving's Legend" is a performance piece by professional storyteller Jonathan Kruk, who offers a one man (and an organ player) performance of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." I tell you, the grinning smile spanning from my one ear to the other did not leave my face the whole night. I was in Sleepy Hollow. Having crossed the horseman's bridge. In the Old Dutch Church. Outside each window, you can see the cemetery which surrounds the church. And you are surrounded by candle lit jack o'lanterns. With the organ blaring. And then the tale of the horseman begins to be told from the altar. Jonathan Kruk gives a great performance of the tale-- and it's certainly worth noting he gives these performances multiple times a night, most nights. Being told live, as he does, you truly get to experience such an essential part of Irving's tale-- how the Horseman is all about the legend, the telling of ghost stories together, and sending you out home, alone. Into the darkness.

The Horseman's Bridge.

 After Kruk's performance, I walked around the church taking photos, still on a cloud of Halloween. Later, taking some outside of the church, I quickly realized my limitations with my camera at night-- taking photos in the dark is something I don't have much experience in, and playing with the flash and seeing what it can and cannot do made me wish I had practiced some more before the trip. But I don't think all of these photos are bad, and I loved taking them. It was so hard to be torn away from the old church, the cemetery, the bridge and the rest of the hollow, in the dark. Across the street, and down a riverbank, is the Horseman's Hollow haunted house attraction, but even that was dark, quiet and sleepy. Occasionally, on a light wind, the screams of those going through would drift over. And there was nowhere else I would rather have been.

In vain, I tried taking some pictures of one of the Horseman and Ichabod statues in the dark, before acquiescing to go back to the hotel-- and return with the daylight on Sunday to spend the day exploring the village and, at long last, the cemetery.

 You may view my photo album from my first night in Sleephy Hollow here:

Old Dutch Church, First Night in Sleepy Hollow

 And a short video I took sitting in my pew, waiting for "Irving's Legend" to start in the Old Dutch Church: