Sunday, October 28, 2018


Ghosts say 'boo'. My grandchildren and earlier my children loved to scare me and say 'boo'. We play peek-a-boo with babies and kiss their boo-boos. And....sadly enough, many 'boo' at ballgames. Over the last 71 years of my life, I probably have said 'boo' at least once each year. Now that adds up to a lot of booing over time. Especially, when combined with your 'boos'. 

According to Britain's Daily Mail, linguistics professionals revealed that the word probably comes from Scotland. It was first recorded in a document displayed in the Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence. Boo is defined as a word to frighten crying children. (Well, that would bring you right out of crying!) That was back in 1738.  

There are as many definitions of 'boo' as there are people to say the word. And, this time of the year, it will be one of the favorites used by all of us. Probably the next most popular will indeed be 'trick or treat'. 

I found this little bit of information and found it applicable for today. During the celebration of Samhaim in the Middle Ages, the Celtic visitors dressed in costumes made of animal skins to drive away phantom visitors. Banquet tables were laid out with offerings to placate these spirits. In later ventures, people dressed as ghosts and other malevolent creatures. They performed antics in exchange for food and drink. The custom was called mumming. Certainly an early form of trick or treat. I rather think that maybe they didn't say 'boo'.  And, perhaps this is why today many of the homeless and poor perform for coin.

I love that old and young dress up for Halloween. The twins will both be dressed as SWAT policemen. James and Lisa are going as burglars. Loren and I are going as plainclothesmen. 'Boos' will ring out throughout the neighborhood. 

I wonder on these dark Halloween nights if perhaps the spirits are following us from house to house. Listen. Perhaps you will hear a whisper. Perhaps a ghostly 'BOO'.

Monday, October 22, 2018

Falling for Autumn

Moo. Cluck. Baa. Woof. Oink. We know the benefits of livestock. In fact, I grew up with animals as my nearest neighbors. The chickens lived in the house across the yard. The cows lived in one barn and the sheep in another. The dog lived outside only because Dad would not let him in the house. Whether we realized it or not, our lives were influenced every day by those creatures great and small. Even the creatures of the fields and air were an integral part of my growing up years.

Autumn brings those sweet critters to mind. The sheep getting woolier. Dad adding fresh bedding for their winter homes. Cows hung out in the barn more and the chickens seemed more content on cold days to stay in their house. My horse looked a bit fatter with her winter coat thickening. The bird feeder was under constant surveillance from the kitchen window. Yes, autumn was deliciously wonderful on the farm.

I was delighted to find that there are actually fall festivals throughout the world honoring animals. From the website Mental Floss, I learned the following:

The festival of Kukur Tihar is a Hindu festival held in Nepal. On the first day, crows (messengers of death) are worshipped. Cows are worshipped on the third with oxen having their blessings on the fourth. On the second day, dogs, both pet and stray, receive garlands around their necks to show respect. A red dot is placed on their foreheads as an act of worship. 

In Madrid, the Fiesta de la Trashumancia is held to mark the season of moving animals to new grazing fields. Sheep, by the thousands, are led through the city. Men and women dress traditionally leading the way with song and dance. (I think they lead because, I mean, who would want to follow that herd through town?) A celebration of shepherding traditions.

This might be my favorite. In Thailand on the last Sunday in November, several tons of food (and even Coke) are set up in the ruins of a 13th century temple. Thousands of macaque monkeys feast.
The monkeys have been revered for about 2000 years. They are a sign of good luck. Lots of monkey business.

Wooly Worm Festival, a festival worth thinking about in Darke County, happens in Banner Elk, North Carolina, in the third week of October. Folklore has it that the thirteen segments on the worm's body predict the weather over the thirteen weeks of winter. Black means colder and snow; brown means fair weather. Not sure what an albino wooly worm means.

India has such great festivals. Each November the Pushcar Camel Fair is held in Rajasthan. Watch out Darke County Fair! This is one of the largest fairs of its kind in the world. Camels and livestock are shown off and local culture and traditions abound. Not so unlike our fair. People and camels are brilliantly adorned. Lively competitions take place.

Vina del Mar is on the Chilean Pacific coast. It is a fall celebration of the beauty and diversity of the country's birds. It is a time of educating people to the value of birds. Something we need as well.

Now I know you probably won't get to many of these fall events, but these international festivals just might encourage you to pay more attention to the creatures of land, air and water. Perhaps next year the Darke County Fair might include a camel barn. A banquet of treats for the goats might be a nice surprise. Dressing pigs in glorious colors or a competition of sheared designs in sheep shearing would draw crowds. Well, food for thought.

Whether you call it Fall or Autumn, it is a time when perhaps we need to do more contemplating in new ways life around us. A time to take in other cultures. A time to find a new relationship with the critters in our lives. Happy Autumn, my friends.


Sunday, October 7, 2018

Stitched in time

The old piano sat in the front room of Pop and Mom Johnson's home. The old piano with the high top covered with a bright orange, velvet scarf. On the Loxley homestead, the piano sat in the living room (or maybe sitting room back then). It was an old player piano. We kids plunked and rolled our fingers across the keyboards, but I never heard an adult play either one of those two pianos. Of course, we had a well-played piano at home. It was the way of it back then. With no TV, music filled more homes. Children grew up with piano music wending its way around the house. Thus from these roots comes my story.

I have a basket that was full of music. So full that it hardly closed. For years I moved the music along with me.  Some of it was Millie's music that came to me when my mother did not want it. My mind could not get around tossing sheet music away. Seems criminal. All that past captured from the notes on the page to the artwork on the cover. The lyricist and composers worked to have their music produced, to have their music known. Millie had played the sheet music so much that the tattered pages had to be sewn together to keep them in place. She did not destroy the sheet music. She continued its life. 

When Mom passed, I accumulated even more music. Pieces that she had played throughout her lifetime joined those of Millie's. They were the pieces I grew up playing. Some were from her youth. Some were my sister's favorites. Some were the songs we sang as a family. All were pieces of history. I added these to my mix of music mayhem. My books of music from movies, musicals, Billy Joel and George Gershwin. Rock and roll and love songs. Children's songs and songs my Great Uncle Jerry Loxley wrote. Music from my piano lessons still hung on. Maybe a grandchild would play them some day. Maybe I might revisit them. All resided together until sorting day.

Yes, it was time to weed out and pass on what I no longer played. A trip down memory lane. I first looked through Millie's pieces still not able to part with them. They are no longer songs that anyone remembers. They are remnants of a time long past. I still hold Millie in my heart and want to preserve what her stitches held dear. A range of emotions followed me through this sorting of the past. Old loves, deaths, lonely times, happy times, and even painful memories that were accompanied by songs. The basket carried songs that Mom pounded out on the piano throughout my childhood. The pile to pass on grew as I kept the memories and music that were part of me.

We all have sort of sheet music memories that we store. Memories that we take out and look at on occasion. They hold feelings and the music that accompanies them. As we get older, we see a history unfold, and we pick what is important and carry that on with us. My memories are stitched with love.