Holiday Traditions

     Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without those fun holiday traditions.  Every family has their own unique tradition to make their Christmas special.  I wanted to remember some of those traditions from yesteryears and those new traditions that have developed into my family now. 

     *  Singing Jingle Bells while opening every gift:  While as a child, in our family gift exchange on Christmas Eve, we would elect a "Santa" or someone to help pass out the gifts.  The elect person would then have to wear the Santa hat.  The "Santa" didn't pass out the gifts all at once.  No.  He would pick a gift and hand it to the certain person.  The person would read who the gift is from.  Sometimes clues were written on the package to help the person guess what is inside.  A brief moment of silence passes then the family (which usually consisted of our mom, my sister, my brother, my grandmother Nonnie and my grandpa) would start singing Jingle Bells.  The person holding the gift would rapidly tear into the wrapped package.  Legend has it that if you didn't open the gift by the time the song was over with the person whom the gift is from gets to have the gift back.  No one ever took their gift back but it was just the excitement of it all that hurried the unwrapper up. 
     After the gift is opened we would oooh and aaahh over the present.  The person would proudly show off their gift like a prized treasure.  Some gifts would spark a story of someone to tell and some gifts would bring out laughter.  It would take about 2 hours, give or take, to get through all of the Christmas Eve gift exchange.  It didn't matter.  We were family and time was not on our minds.  It was about spending time with each other and enjoying the company of family. 
     I remember spending a Christmas time with another family and they passed out all the gifts and then everyone digs in.  It went by so fast.  It was hard to see what everyone received between all the colored holiday paper flying about.  Don't get me wrong.  It was still nice and delightful but it wasn't the same.  When you are used to having Christmas a certain way the change feels ackward.

     *  The Manger:  I loved it when my mom would pull out the manger.  It had a huge door that pulled down and it revealed the cast of characters in Christmas.  There was Mary, Joseph, Angels, 3 Wise Men, donkey, sheep, cow, a shepard and the manger, complete with baby Jesus and a bright star that hooked up on top of the stable.  We were told that baby Jesus could not be placed in the manger until Christmas morning.  My mom would tuck him away in a cupboard until that time.  The manger still looked bare especially to a child playing with it.  I found a small Garfield toy and placed that in the manger until Christmas morning.  My mom was shocked to see Garfield in the manager.  She would take him out only to find out later that one of her three children placed the Garfield back into the manger.  To this day when I look at manger scenes I look into the manger.  When I see baby Jesus in there I still think He shouldn't be there until Christmas morning. 

     *  Placement of the gifts:  On Christmas morning my sister, brother and I knew exactly where to look for our gifts.  Our tree was always in front of the large picture window.  The gifts on the right side of the tree were for my brothers.  The gifts on the left side of the tree were for my sister and the gifts right in the middle were for me.  The gifts were still labeled with our names but we knew exactly where to look for them.  Gifts that would be for the whole family or gifts we made at school for our mom would be placed on the back side of the tree.  Those where usually discoved after us kids unwrapped our presents. 
     I started to do that with my own children.  When we had 2 children they each had half a tree.  At 3 children it was left, right, and center.  With 4 I tried doing left, right, front and back.  Unfortunally the child who had the back of the tree had a hard time getting to their presents since the tree was against the wall or window.  When child #5 and #6 entered our lives I stopped trying to make them a side of the tree.  I would spread all the gifts all around the tree.  Now they have to find their gifts under the tree and take it to a section of the room which they claim is their space to open their gifts.

     *  The Pickle in the tree:  I first learned about the tradition of the pickle in the tree from taking a German class in the 10th grade in high school.  Basically, the child who finds the pickle ornament in the Christmas tree receives an extra gift from Santa Claus.  I told my mom about it and I ended up getting a pickle ornament in my stocking that following Christmas.  For a while finding the pickle was just for bragging rights.  Now that I have my own family it has turned into a mission on searching for that pickle. 
     I usually purchase a family gift, like a family game, a movie, or snacks, for the pickle gift.  The one who finds the pickle gets to open up the family present.  Our children will wake up super early on Christmas morning not only to see the presents under the tree but to start searching for the pickle.  I will declare "pickle search" a few hours after they unwrapped their regular gifts.  It is fun watching the excitment on their faces and they search between the branches, high and low, looking for a silly glass pickle ornament. 

     *  The Stockings:  We had our own red stockings waiting for us on Christmas morning.  I came to learn to expect the little things, candy, a few trinkets, a gift or two that is wrapped like a music cassette tape or jewerly and in the toe part, an orange.  Opening the stocking was just as exciting as the regular gifts themselves.  My sister, brother and I would sit in a circle and dump out our stockings to reveal what we had hidden inside them. 
     An unexpected tradition started to unfold from the stocking as I had a family of my own.  In 2 days we would go from my husband's dads, then to my mom's, then to his mom's, then to my step-dad's family.  It became very overwhelming.  We really didn't have time to visit as we were always on the go.  One Christmas our 2 children didn't have time to even open their stockings.  I told my husband they would open the stockings when we returned home.  By the time we got home it was late and the kids were sleeping.  The next day they were so busy playing with the toys, and us from recovering the hectic 2 days, that we forgot about the stockings sitting nicely on the table in the corner.  It wasn't until 3 days AFTER Christmas that they finally had time to open their stockings.  The year after that it was busy again that they didn't open the stockings until the next day.  It's wasn't as bad as the one year but it still wasn't good. 
     My husband and I sat down and decided we needed to adjust our Christmas so we weren't in a rush packing everything in the two days.  With more children coming into our family we needed to make things easier.  It took a few years to work out the kinks to our plan but in doing so created a new tradition. 
     The stockings are still filled up by Christmas morning but we set them off to the side and we don't open them until later on in the evening.  In doing so it makes the Christmas spirit last longer for the children.  They have something to look forward to as the night settles over the land.  They can see wrapped presents and candy canes sticking out from the top but they know not to peek in.  They like the wait and the anticipation of seeing what they get. 

     *  Sibiling Exchange:  This is a tradition I started with my family a few years back.  With our family getting larger (5 kids when I started this tradition, now at 6 children) I want to teach them about the joy of giving with the sibiling exchange.  They each draw a name and they cannot say who they have.  Then they have to buy a small gift usually around $5 for the person they drew.  On Christmas Eve we gather in the living room and they have to guess who had them in order to open the present.  If they didn't guess correctly then the next oldest or youngest sibiling gets to guess.  If they guess correctly they get to open the gift right away.  It is fun to see what crazy gifts they buy for each other and to see the joys of watching the other sibilings open the gifts. 

     No matter what traditions you have in your household it is about togetherness and family time.  It is the special family moments that have been passed down from generation to generation.  Some may be added and some traditions have ended altogether.  It doesn't matter what gifts were bought or what is served at the Christmas dinner.  It is to cherish the memories that are being made at that moment. 

A Morbid Christmas

     As I sit and reminisce about the times of Christmas past I recall one memory that wasn't so merry.  Most families, when it comes time to trimming the Christmas tree, will play holiday music or have a holiday show playing on the TV in the background.  That was certainly not the case at our household one Christmas. 

     The year was probably 1987 or 1988.  I must of been 10 or 11 years old.  My sister and brother rented movies from American Video to watch while we helped our mother decorate the tree.  My mom popped us up some popcorn and fixed kool-aid to drink.  Afterwards she hauled out box after box of Christmas lights, tinsel and ornaments out of the basement.  During this time we were already engrossed with what was on tv.  Our mom unraveled the lights and started to string them around the tree.  She pulled out the different colored tinsel and wound that around our artificial tree happily humming to herself and not really paying attention to what was on the television set. 

     A loud torturous scream caught our mother's attention.  "This is NOT a Christmas show!"  she bellowed. 

     My sibilings and I would quickly shush our mom not taking our glance away from the TV.  We sat there   numbingly dishing popcorn into our mouths in anticipation of what was going to happen next.  We were watching the horror/slasher movie Truth or Dare.  It wasn't a huge hit of a movie but it was certainly odd to say the least.

     In a nutshell, the main character catches his wife cheating and he mentally loses it.  He starts playing Truth or Dare with people he comes in contact with, and some people were just from his imagination.  Some of the dares were cutting his chest open, taking his eyeball out with a nail, cutting off his tongue.  Another guy was dared to put a grenade in his mouth and blow his head off.  I don't remember exactly how it ended but it was just a gory movie.  It wasn't even that scary, just bloody.

     My mom was appalled that we were watching a movie like that.  She tried to get us to put something else on but we didn't listen.  We eventually pulled ourselves away from watching the movie to help put on the ornaments but our ears were still in tune with the television.  My mom couldn't believe that here we were, decorating the Christmas tree, with a slasher movie going on.

     For the next couple years it turned into a tradition of having a horror movie on in the background while we decorate the tree.  After moving out of the house and having a family of my own I have put that tradition to rest.  A part of me still wants to see a horror movie while I decorate our tree but I know it isn't best for my children to see.  I don't know if it was the movie I liked so much or the bonding moments I had with my sibilings and our mom.  I do know that the memory of it still puts a smile on my face.

Thoughts on Life and Death

     Since the day we are born we come closer and closer to the day we die.  We all have an expiration date yet no one knows when.  It is one huge mystery - when?!  We all expect to live well into our senior years but unfortunally that is not always the case.  Sometimes the young parish as well.  I believe that when our work here on Earth is done (that God has planned for us) He will call us home.  There is a meaning behind everything whether we understand it or not.  Perhaps the reason to why a loved one dies may not be our reason to know but for someone else to know the meaning behind it.  We don't always need to understand it, but death is something we must accept. 

     I recently had my mother-in-law pass away last week on December 7.  I felt thankful to have been there - not thankful for her death but thankful to have been a part of her life.  Her adult children were by her side giving her words of comfort and reassurance as she leaves this Earth.  I watched and pictured her in yesteryears as she welcomed each child through labor and gazed upon each new baby with awe.  I envisioned her holding them as they took their first breaths in the world and now her children were there waiting for her to take her last.  There was a mournful comfort to it. 

     I came to the analogy of death being like a birth.  At one moment the unborn child is not of existence, relying solely on his mother's body for survival.  Then one unexpected day there is a little pain and discomfort and that unborn child is born into a beautiful world.  All that pain is forgotten as the mother and child stare into each other's beautiful faces.  At the time of death things are reversed.  On an unexpected date and time there may be some discomfort and pain.  Once you get through the "labor" of dying you are welcomed in Jesus' arms and the beauty of Heaven makes you forget all about the suffering from before.  It is a birth into death. 

     William Wallace, a character from the movie Braveheart, said it best with this line, "Death comes to us all."  There is no cure from death.  No matter what studies the medical field does we still will all die at the end.  We can eat all the right foods, live an active and healthy life and we still die.  There is no escape from that fact.  It is true that by making good choices in our life we can prolong our life a bit longer but death is still going to greet us eventually. 

     At times when I look at the elderly I try to picture them being young and carefree.  I picture them without the wrinkles, gray hair, and without their slow gestures.  I imagine them being a young child running around playing happily and carefree.  I picture them wooing their spouse by them getting butterflies over that first phone call for a date and feeling wonderfully beautiful.  Then I look at the youth running around and wonder if they realize that one day they, too, will get old and not move at a quick pace anymore.  Their hair will gray or may even fall out.  Their skin will wrinkle and sag.  Things that seem important as a young adult will seem trivial to a person with several decades behind them. 

     So should we just give up on life and roll over and wait to die?  NO!  That is not what I am saying at all.  We should live life and enjoy the gifts that God gave to us all.  He gave us the gift of life to live in His glory.  God has a purpose for us.  He has given us a meaning.  We need to give our elders respect while teaching the youth to be respectful to others.  We need to remember those who have died and enjoy the moments now that we have with our loved ones.  Once that those moments pass we may never get another chance to let them know how much they mean in our lives. 

A Child's Prayer

     I believe it was the winter of 2001.  Our son Christian was 4, Elizabeth was 3, and Ashton was just over a year old.  We were happily living in Allegan, Mi. getting ready for the Christmas season.  A few years prior my husband introduced me to Battle Creek's Festival of Lights display.  As a child my family would take me to Frankenmuth to see the lights of Bronners, "The Worlds Largest Christmas Store."  Now that we lived on the west side of the state we don't get to see the wonderful lights of Bronner's that much.  So my husband showed me the next best thing, The Battle Creek International Festival of Lights.

     We seen many displays of Christmas lights.  We walked along paths that showed the images of the "12 Days of Christmas" and other traditional images of Christmas like snowmen, elves and, of course, Santa and his reindeer.  One of our favorite displays was of a lighted waterfall on a lower part of a building that appeared to flow under a pedestrian bridge.  All of the displays were really spectular. 

     While heading back towards the van we passed along the religious display of lights.  It was already getting chilli as it was late at night and Ashton was getting fussy and tired.  I was holding Elizabeth's hand when she started pulling away.  I grabbed my hand tighter to hers and let her know that we needed to head back towards the van.  She pleaded with me that she had to see something.  Her small mittened hand slipped out from my grip and she dashed towards the lights.  Brian tried calling her back but she failed to listen. 

     She stopped short in front of the lit cross and without hesitation she kneeled down in the snow, put her hands together and started to pray.  Brian, who was shortly behind Elizabeth getting ready to catch her, stopped dead in his tracks.  We understood what she wanted so desperately to do.  She wanted to pray to Jesus.  A few people that passed by took notice of Elizabeth praying and commented on what a precious family we have.  I have to agree, I felt very proud of her actions that night.

Even though Elizabeth's image was too dark to show up in the picture
I still know she was kneeling down in front of the cross. 

     It is amazing what a 3 year old can teach us.  That night she didn't care how cold the snow was.  She didn't care who was around watching her.  She didn't care that I tried to hold her back of her unknown actions.  She needed to pray to Jesus.  I never asked her what she prayed about.  I figured it was between her and God.  Seeing her in front of the cross praying made me examine my own walk with the Lord.  Do I hide Jesus in my life?  Do I openly pray and not care what others think?  We should always have the Lord on our thoughts, in good times and as well in times of hardships.  It is something so simple that a 3 year old can understand that.

The Adventures of Super Hornet

Look!  Up in the sky!  It's a bird!

No, It's a plane?

No, It's...It's...

SUPER HORNET!!!!!

    Flying around Saginaw Township Super Hornet is looking for little children who are fast asleep in their beds not wanting to wake up to get ready for school.  As he buzzes down Center Rd. he notices a little girl not wanting to open her eyes to start the day.  Little does she know that if she doesn't wake up she will miss the bus to school.  There is only one thing left for Super Hornet to do.  DIVE BOMB! 

     A small buzzing sound fills the air.  Suddenly I am tickled endlessly as my mom tries hard to wake me up.  I scream, "I"m awake! I'm awake!" in hopes to stop the tickling. 

     That is pretty much how my mornings started as a young kid.  I was never a morning person but somehow Super Hornet always saved the day is getting me out of bed.  My mom would do the same to my brother and sister too.  I don't know how she came upon the making of Super Hornet but it worked as far as getting us up out of bed.   

     There would be times as soon as my mom started in with her announcer voice of "Flying around..." we would pop out of bed in lieu of being tickled.  Other times we would bare through the rhetoric and try to stop the buzzing hand looming overhead only to fail as she used her other hand to tickle under our arms or in our sides. 

     I have carried on the tradition with my own children of having Super Hornet attack.  In the morning  I go into their rooms.  I usually start with the boys.  As I tip toe across the room I catch myself saying, "Flying over the village of Sears..." then I hear the boys shout out, "I'm up! I'm up!"  They will pull the covers over their head as I get closer.  No one knows which one Super Hornet will attack first.  I can hear giggles of anticipation coming out from the covers.  I pick a ramdom boy.  Scream of laughter come from under the covers as Super Hornet tickles the belly.   The other boys, not wanting to be attacked, usually jump out of bed.  An awake child is Super Hornet's only weakness. 

    I walk over to the girls room.  They hear my footsteps.  Already I hear shouts of, "I'm awake!  I'm up!" coming out of their room.  Super Hornet buzzes inside their room.  Their eyes are still shut.  The buzzing gets louder and louder.  Then about this time they sit up.  Super Hornet never fails to save the day! 

     So beware citizens of the world.  You never know where Super Hornet may strike next to awaken you from your deepest of slumbers. 

Thanksgiving Day Disaster

     Autumn was fully upon us in 2003.  Thanksgiving was quickly approaching.  As long as Brian and I have been together we would alternate years on whether we would spend Thanksgiving with his family or mine.  Now we had 4 children.  Our oldest was 6 and our youngest turned 1 a few months back.  This year it was going to be different.  Brian decided it was time to start having our own Thanksgiving in our home.  He wanted the children to play outside in the crisp fall air only to come inside to the welcoming aroma of a home made Thanksgiving dinner.  He enjoyed memories of that as a child and he wanted his children to have the same wonderful memories.  I, too, grew up with Thanksgiving dinner at our home and had fond memories of it.  I did want the children to have the same Thanksgiving day memories with the perks of leftovers the next day. 

     There was still one problem.  I couldn't cook very well.  I never made a turkey before.  I haven't even made chicken before.  Well, I did try cooking chicken legs once.  It was burned on the outside and raw in the middle.  Roasts I could do.  Just toss it in a crock pot for several hours and it's ready to eat.  But a huge dinner I never have done.  Even as a child, during the Thanksgiving prep, my mom, nonnie (my grandmother), and my sister would be busy in the kitchen doing women's work.  My brother and grandpa would be in the livingroom watching the football game on TV and I would busy myself by trying to sneak a quick bite of something from the kitchen or playing with my toys.  I was not interested in football or kitchen duties.  I just wanted the finished product of Thanksgiving. But Brian was adamant about having Thanksgiving at home and that I was going to fix it. 

     I spent the two weeks prior planning out a menu.  I racked my brain thinking of all the Thanksgiving foods I ate growing up.  I asked my mom about prepping the turkey and how to make the stuffing.  I looked in cookbooks trying to find recipes for foods I usually took for granted of always being there without me making it.  I bought a huge turkey platter and other serving dishes to go along with our dinner.  I was thrilled and getting a sense of  domesticated feelings rising in me.  I was having fun.

     My mom and his mom were half laughing at how this Thanksgiving was going to turn out.  Both knew I was lacking in cooking skills.  They both did offer to have us to their homes on Thanksgiving but we were determined to have it at home.  For 2 days I was prepping for the big day.  I fixed up a veggie tray complete with carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, and cherry tomato's.  I made ambrosia salad, jello salad, deviled eggs, baked beans (not home made but out of a can), mashed potato's, stuffing, yams, sweet pickles, spiced peaches, sliced cucumbers, cranberry sauce (again out of the can), green bean casserole, rolls, and of course the turkey.  I did attempt to make squash but it didn't turn out right.  I later found out that I was supposed to use a different type of squash to make the orange creamy texture that I like in squash.  For 6 people, 4 of those are young children, I had a lot on the menu.  I just wanted things to be perfect.

     The turkey came out perfect.  It had a nice golden brown texture to it.  Brian came into the kitchen to see how it looked and he was impressed.  I was very pleased.  Our table is normally a circle but we extended it to add 2 leafs to it in the middle.  I set the table while trying to keep the younger children away from the food.  The wonderful smells were tickling their tummies for a taste of the wholesome goodies I was placing on the table.  I pulled out our wedding gobblets for Brian and I to have some wine with our dinner.  The kids had kool-aid.  Dinner was ready!

     We all sat around the table and I had James, who was just over a year old, sitting in a high chair next to me.  This would be his first Thanksgivng where he can eat from it.  Brian was at the head of the table and Christian, Elizabeth and Ashton were around the sides of the table.  We gave our thanks to the Lord for our wonderful feast and Brian took the knife to start cutting into the turkey.  I started to fix James' plate and placed a serving spoon into the green bean casserole.  Then suddenly CRASH!!!!!

     In less than a second the whole table split in two and everything came crashing down.  Brian still had the knife and fork in his hands still in the position of carving the turkey that is no longer under the knife.  My serving spoon still had a scoop of green bean casserole on it however the green bean casserole was now on the diningroom floor.  The kids started screaming and crying.  My first thought was to make sure they were okay.  The table edge came across James' high chair.  The arms of the high chair stopped the table from crushing down on his legs.  He was crying for a moment, probably from the excitment from it all but he was okay.  Christian wasn't fully under the table so he was okay as well as Ashton.  Beth's legs did get pinched from the table falling down and Brian was right there to lift the table off of her legs so she can back away from the mess.  Both girls were crying very hard.  Physically they were okay.  They were mostly sad by having their dinner in a huge pile on the floor.

Our Thanksgiving dinner table that collasped. 

Another angle of our Thanksgivng dinner.

My son's turkey napkin holder ruined among the yams.

As I lifted up a table leaf there I found the squished deviled eggs.

Ashton (3 years old) was upset by the table falling.

Beth (age 5) was also upset by the table falling. 
Her leg was pinched a bit by the falling table but it scared her more than anything. 

     Our dog, Cuddles, started to come up and help clean up some of the liquid juice that was all over the floor.  We quickly pulled her back and placed her in the enclosed porch.  We surveyed the damage.  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Brian, overwhelmed by it all, steps outside for a moment to have a cigarette.  All that hard work, all that prepping and preparing is now all over my diningroom floor.  I knew I would be laughing at this later so I might as well start now.  Our wedding gobblets shattered and glass pieces and slivers went everywhere.  The sweet potato's scattered across the floor landing in the green bean casserole and baked beans.  The deviled eggs plopped upside down squashed between the floor and the leaf of the table.  The liquid from the cramberry sauce, yams, spiced peaches and gravy made a huge puddled mess all of the place.  My son's turkey napkin holder was destroyed by food falling on it.  Because of the small pieces of glass everywhere we had to throw everything away.  The only thing that was saved was the squash that wasn't placed on the table because it wasn't made correctly and it did not taste as well as I was hoping for.  Four paper towel rolls and two garbage bags later the mess was cleaned up.

     Looking at the table we seen that the arms that hold the leaves of the table snapped in two.  All the weight of the Thanksgiving dinner put too much stress on the arms which caused it to break.  I called my mom.  She laughed and laughed.  She told me it was Karma by not being with her on Thanksgiving.  Brian called his mom to let her know what happened.  I could hear the laughter coming from the phone.  She begged for us to come over and have Thanksgiving over there.  She only lived 3 miles away.  Brian declined.  I looked at him thinking, what else are we supposed to do?!  Brian looked at me, smiled, and said he would be right back and he went out the door and drove off. 

     Like a knight in shinning armor Brian comes back with McDonald's in his arms.  Four happy meals for the kids and two Big Mac combo for us.  We went to the livingroom and made a picnic for the children in front of the TV and Brian and I sat on the couch.  We gave thanks, again, to the Lord and to have Him bless our McDonald's Thanksgiving dinner.

Our 2003 Thanksgiving Dinner

Christian (age 6) was quite pleased with the Happy Meal Thanksgiving dinner.

An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving Church Service

     One Sunday morning before Thanksgiving we headed off to church at Christ Community Church in Allegan, Mi.  We have been attending there for a few months.  Everyone was friendly and cheerful and they made you feel welcomed from the start.  They had a wonderful nursery program which was great for our 3 children that we had at the time.  This Sunday started off a little different from the rest.  We walk in the doors and Kathy Johnson, a middle aged lady,  heads right in my direction beaming.  "Jill, Come sit by me today." she demands. 

     I looked confused.  It seemed so adolescent the way she asked.  "Okay, sounds good.  You can sit next to us."  Then Kathy got a silly grin across her face and walked with us towards the main part of the church.

     As we turned to enter the church we see Pastor White dressed up as a pilgrim complete with a powdered white wig coving his bald head.  Looking around I noticed several of the elders were also dressed as pilgrims.  Brian and I, with Kathy following, proceeded to take our seats on the left side of the church.  As soon as Brian sat down Kathy quickly told him that he cannot sit there.  "Brian, you have to go sit over with the men on the other side of the church."  Brian looked around and seen several men scattered around the right side of the church and the women were all on the left side of the church.

     "I guess I need to go over with the other men, then." he smiled at us and headed over to his side of the church.

     Kathy knew all along what was happening that Sunday morning and knew we did not know what to expect.  I think she was delighted with our confused and awkward looks we gave as we tried to make sense of it all.

     Service was about to start and our pilgrim looking pastor followed by pilgrim looking elders caring long poles with feathers at the end entered the main part of the church and proceeded their way up to the front.  Pastor White goes to the alter and reaches for a shofar, a long ram's horn, and blows into it a few times signaling the start of service.  Then he reaches over to a huge hourglass and flips it over.  He explains that during church in the days of the pilgrims they would use the hourglass as a time and it would be flipped over several times during the pilgrims church.  He relieved us by saying he won't be flipping it over too many times. 

     Pastor White continued to explain how today we are having service just like the pilgrims would have in celebration of Thanksgiving.  "The men you see walking around are carring large poles.  As you see on one end there is a metal ball.  On the other side there is a feather.  Both sides will be used in case you start to misbehave or fall asleep during service today."  he announced.  The elders of the church smiled and showed off their poles to the congression and some even demostrated by wacking a teenagers head, not hard, with the metal ball or they would use the feather to tickle someone in the face.  During service they would walk around and randomly bop people in the head or tickle them. 

     It was told that during service it was customary for the sins of others to be read outloud for all to hear.  He pulled out a long scroll and started to read from it.  "Earl Gillette! It was discovered by someone that when you go fishing you use dead worms instead of live worms." Earl was an elderly gentlemen who fished every chance he could.  During the summers he would have a huge fish fry for the church with a lot of the fish he caught. Chuckles and giggles filled the church.

     "Doreen Chrystler!  Boxes of Duncan Hines cake mixes were discovered in your garbage last week after you claimed to have home made your cakes!"   More laughs echoed throughout the church.  Pastor White would name several people that were caught doing horrible crimes and make them confess their sins publicly. 

     After church service everyone congregated outside where there was a team of horses hooked up to a large hay wagon.  Children were put on the wagon and a few parents as well.  Pastor White led a small parade with the elders of the church following him around one entrance of the church, a quarter of the way around the block, in entered in another entrance of the church.  The hay wagon followed behind them.  Afterwards there was a small celebration and social gathering in the fellowship hall of the church. 

     It was a unique and fun service to have.  For the next few years that we lived in Allegan we looked forward to attending church there the Sunday before Thanksgiving.  He made history come alive if only for that moment. 

The Ghost of the Fireman



     Normally I never believed in ghosts and part of me still doesn't but I just cannot explain the event that unfolded one summer night when I was 14 in 1991.  It was the same week that "The Chase" (http://ymaout.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-chase.html September 25th blog) happened.  My memory is distorted on what event happened first, nonetheless these events did happen.  In a quick summary, my mom just had a hysterectomy and  I invited a friend, Amy, to come up to our cabin at Houghton Lake while my mom recovers. 

     The cabin used to be my grandparents.  Every summer since as long as I can remember we could go there.  We knew everyone around the area and even the neighbors to our right is one set of my godparents.  They still live there to this day.  As much as I love the cabin I had alway felt a weird vibe to certain areas of the house.  There is the kids bedroom.  I hated being in there at night.  I can't explain it and nothing happened but you feel like someone is watching you.  I refused to look in the closet for anything.  The closet doors were always open but I just would not glance in that direction.  I hated sleeping in that room.  Even today I don't like the feeling I get when I go into in there.  Another room we call MeMe's room.  She was my great grandmother and this was her room when staying at the cabin.  Again, when I enter this room I get a different vibe that something is just off about it.  The other two bedrooms are fine.  No strange feelings when I enter those rooms or any other part of the house. 

     It was just a regular evening at the cabin.  We wanted to stay up and watch TV (probably the Late Show) and camp out in the livingroom.  There is a huge picture window that looks out to the lake.  Houghton Lake is the biggest inland lake in Michigan.  It is breathtaking looking out at night and seeing all the lights dotted around the lake from people's homes.  If the waves are high enough you can hear them splashing against the side of the boats.  It is very peaceful.  We spent our evening putting our hair up in curlers and doing our nails.  We eventually got tired and fell asleep.  She fell asleep on the floor and went and made myself comfortable on the couch. 

     Some time during the night I became restless and opened my eyes.  What laid before me was astounding.  A dense, pale white, misty fog covered the floor in the livingroom and surrounding area.  I remember thinking how odd that was.  I couldn't see Amy sleeping on the floor.  The fog covered her right up.  Over by the TV, in almost a perfect triangular shape, was a black void.  It was just pure black.  I couldn't even see the TV.  The fog would swirl around like choppy waves at sea rising and falling.  I eventually laid back down feeling at rest with myself, and fell back to sleep. 

     A short time later I awoke again and leaned up.  I looked around the fog was still there.  In the love seat that was across the room from me sat a tiny baby.  I am guessing this baby to be about 5-6 months old.  It was leaning back like it was propped up against the back of the love seat.  It was a chubby little baby just in a diaper.  There was just a feeling of peace about everything.  I laid my head back down and fell back asleep. 

     For a third time that night I awoke.  Again, I half sat up and looked around.  The fog was still there.  The black void was still there.  I looked across the room and the baby was gone.  I glanced over and there was a fireman sitting in the recliner chair.  It looked like he got home from a fire call.  He had his hat and boots on.  His face was just a black shadow.  His fireman coat was unbuttoned.  His arms were on the arm rests.  His right hand was holding an axe.  He wasn't holding it in a threatening manner.  It was like he was just holding it, as if someone was holding a rolled up newspaper with their hand while sitting.  It was very nonchalant looking.  I stared at him for a while.  I wasn't scared or nervous.  Instead, I felt a very peaceful, calm, numbing, tranquil feeling with myself.  I knew what I was seeing but my brain wasn't having a thought process of what I was viewing.  I never experienced that feeling ever before or had I ever since.  I laid back down and drifted back off to sleep.  

     I woke up a fourth time.  The fog was still there.  The void was still there.  The baby and the fireman were gone.  As peaceful as everything was I was starting to get annoyed by waking up all the time.  I thought perhaps my curlers were causing me the restless sleep.  I decided to take them off.  I slid myself off the couch and onto the floor.  I still couldn't see Amy.  I looked down and the fog covered everything from my hips down.  I knew my legs were straight out in front of me but I couldn't see them.  I sat there in the fog looking around just mesmerized by it all.  I reached up to my hair and slowly started unraveling a curler.  I sat it down next to me.  As my hand would bring each curler down to the floor my hand would disappear into this fog.  I shook out my curls a little bit and climbed back up on the couch.  I laid my head back down on my pillow and fell back asleep.  That was the last time I woke up until morning.  

This is the layout of the livingroom at the cabin.  The yellow squares are the reclining chairs with a end table in between.  The maroon rectangle is the love seat.  The brown rectangle is the couch where I slept.  The black void is where we had a small table-top TV.  Amy was on the floor sleeping.  B=baby; F=fireman. The long thin rectangle is the window looking out to the lake.

     When I woke up in the morning my mom was awake in the kitchen getting her coffee going and breakfast.  Amy was still sleeping.  I went over to the kitchen, sat myself on the bar stool across from my mom and we had general conversation at first.  Then I decided to tell her, "Mom," I said, "I had a strange dream or something last night."  and I told her about it.

    "A fireman?!" my mom interrupts when I got to that part, "Did you just say you seen a fireman?"  My mom started to go pale in the face.

     "Yes!  He was just sitting there in Grandpa's chair."  I told her.

     "How do you know it was a fireman?"  my mom asks.

     "Because he had the fireman triangular looking style of hat.  He had his heavy looking coat on.  He had his boots on.  No mistaking it, it was a fireman."  I replied back. 

     She became very quiet for a moment and an odd look came across her face.  "Do you know who lived here before Nonnie and Grandpa?"  Nonnie is what we called our grandmother. 

     Now I was started to look bewildered, "Didn't Nonnie and Grandpa build this place?"  I knew that my grandpa helped build the seawall out front and I just assumed that since I grew up here that they built this home.  No one ever mentioned prior owners.  I was young to even think about prior owners.

    "No, they bought it back in the mid to late 1970's."  That probably explains why I thought they built it since I was born in 1977.  My mom continuted on, "The man that lived here previously died from a heart attack and he used to be a fireman and was retired before he died"

     "Get out!" I rolled my eyes not wanting to believe her tease, "That is not true!"

     "Don't you remember, next to the garage, there was the fake fire hydrant?  It was part of his retirement gift from the fire station."  Her look was dead serious.

     I strained my memory trying to recall it.  "I don't remember it at all.  What happened to it?"

     "I don't know.  I think Grandpa just got rid of it." 

     Chills started to run up and down my spine.  So perhaps the fireman I seen WAS the ghost of the man who lived here before.  I still cannot explain the baby I seen or the fog or why there was a black void in the corner of the room. 

     You would think that I would be now terrified of the livingroom.  Just the opposite, actually.  I find great comfort and peace being in that room.  When the house if full of family I usually take the couch, although I never seen the ghost of the fireman again.  I still get an eerie feeling when I walk into the kids room and MeMe's room.  Funny how that is. 

    

    

Crickets and Choir

     Crickets and Choir 

Long time ago there lived a little old couple who lived out in the country..  One evening after dinner the husband invited his wife to sit with him on the back porch to watch the sun set.  The elderly wife hung up her apron, pour a glass of lemonaid for the both of them, and headed out the back door to join her husband in watching the day sky end.  They both sat in silence, sipping their lemonaid, rocking back and forth on their rockers up on the porch overlooking a beautiful field.  The sky went from a sparkling blue to dazzling shades of pink, orange and lavender as the sun was setting over the horizon.

Crickets from out in the field started to chirp out in the distance.  The wife closes her eyes and rests her head on the back of the chair.  A small smile emerges from her lips as she listens to the sweet melody of crickets in the evening air.  She invisions them chirping a song  picked out special  just for her husband and herself out in the field. 

"My goodness!  Would you listen to that."  the husband chimes in.

"Oh yes!"  the wife whispers back opening her eyes reaching out her hand to her husband still rocking in the chair next to hers.

Not noticing his wifes hand stretched out to him he barks back, "HOW CAN ONE RELAX OUT HERE WITH ALL THAT NOISE!  I really need to do something about all those crickets.  They are making such a loud racket that it is hard for me to think!"



     This story isn't about right or wrong.  It is about how different two people can view the same thing and both be correct.  The old lady was mesmerised by the sounds of the night while the husband was annoyed by the loud interrupting noise that came out of the field. Even though they are one in marriage they still have their own view on a situtation.

     My husband and I use the phrase "Crickets and Choir" often in our lives.  When we debate why we like something one way and not the other we usually end the debate by saying "Crickets and Choir" to remind ourselves that we are both right.  It is about learning about each other and their point of view.  At times we can get so wrapped up in how we see something that we don't look at how our spouse can see it differently.  Perhaps seeing a situtation differently can open our eyes to learn and understand our spouse's view on things. 

     The other night my husband and I were watching Bram Stoker's Dracula.  He views that movie as a horror movie with blood and death.  I viewed it as a love story of a husband who was trying to reconnect his soul to that of his late wife (see February's blog on my complete thoughts on the movie).  Neither one of us was wrong.  It was just how in our mind we pictured the movie differently. 

     My husband and I differ on how we like our goulash.  I like mine a little liquidly while he enjoys his goulash thick and hearty.  Again, neither one of us is wrong but I now know how he likes it.  When he is home I will fix goulash the way he likes it, thick and hearty, because I know that makes him happy.  When he is out working I can add more liquid to the mix for the way I like it.  It is a compromise we nonverbally agreed with and we are both happy.

     I believe everyone should have the story of "Crickets and Choir" tucked away in their hearts.  It teaches couples to accept differences in each other and learning to compromise on those differences.  That is what helps make a marriage work.   

                      God's Cricket Choir

See for yourself.  Music or just noise?

The Birth of Ashton



After Ashton was born we used 3 different
size of diapers for our 3 children.



     A few weeks before I turned 23 I found out we were expecting our third child.  We were happy.  We just bought our first home on Bond St. in Allegan and Brian was working at B&B Trucking over in Kalamazoo.  We had a three year old boy and a two year old girl still running around in diapers but I guess we were going to add another one to the mix. 

     Our neighbor was also expecting.  She was due October 14 and my due date was set at October 7th.  We would talk, during the summer, of our pregnancies and how they are both developing.  She found out she was having a girl and my doctor didn't see a need in having an ultrasound so it was going to be a suprise for us.  We guessed our first two children correctly and I was thinking this was going to be a boy.  It didn't matter to us if we had a boy or a girl.  We already had one of each so we just focused on having a healthy baby. 

     Our last two children were born in Grand Rapids and we decided to have our next baby born at Allegan General Hospital.  We were maybe two miles from the hospital and it would be easier to deliver there instead trying to get the children ready and find a babysitter and drive 50+ minutes to Grand Rapids when we both know my labors are quick.  I told my doctor that both my last two children were induced and I wanted to go into labor naturally.  He knew my requests and worked with me on it. 

     Our due date came.  Later on in the afternoon I was outside playing around with the kids.  Our neighbor pulls into the driveway all excited.  He said his wife had her baby earlier that morning and they are both doing great.  I rubbed my bellying thinking I was supposed to have this baby first.   A few days later they all came home and I was able to see the new baby.  It was so odd looking at this baby, who wasn't supposed to be due until a week later, who was perfect in every way a baby can be perfect and imagined that right now my baby is fully developed the same way.  She can now hold her little one and mine is still incubating on the inside not wanting to come out.   I was happy for them all yet a little jealous that her pregnancy pains and labor are all done and over with and she can now enjoy her daughter.

Our neighbor's daughter (just turned 1) on the left and her sister in the middle. 
Ashton, on the right, was just a week before turning 1 year old.

     The waiting after the due date is the worst.  Every ache and pain you wonder if this is going to be the big one to set me off into labor.  At one doctor visit he mentioned that we really shouldn't go too much longer after the due date.  I pleaded with him that I wanted to experience going into labor naturally.  I took a stress test and all was well.  So he said we will talk about it more at the next appointment. 

     Sunday, October 15 started out like any other day.  I remember it was a warm day outside.  We did some grocery shopping and even bought a cake to be made praising the republicians to be given to my mom the next day at her office in honor of the Bush vs. Gore presidental election coming up in a few weeks.  She is a democrat and we always taunt each other during elections.  This was going to be our prank to her.  A few people had yard sales going and we stopped and looked around.  Later on that evening my sister came down from Grand Rapids with her almost 5 year old and her one year old twin boys.  Her husband and Brian went to Brian's mom's house to work on a car.  Everyone was having a good time.

     It was getting late and my sister was packing up to head home.  She looks at me, "Are you okay?"

     "Yea, I feel great."  I replied.

     "You are not going to go into labor now, are you?"  she asks.

     "No!  I am fine.  Just sore from running around all day.  I am good.  You can go home.  Brian and your husband are over at his mom's."

     Lisa gave me a weird look and figured I was doing okay so she left.  Christian and Elizabeth were winding down watching a taped Blue Clues on the VCR and I was picking up all the toys and putting them away.  Suddenly and without warning it hit.  CONTRACTION!  It brought me down to my knees.  I was doing good then all of the sudden there it was.  I looked up at the clock so I could time them.  It was exactly 9pm.  It lasted for a short moment.  I looked at the kids.  Their backs were to me so they didn't see me drop down.  They looked so precious just sitting there side by side.  In a few hours they are going to have a sibiling and they don't even know it yet, I thought to myself.  I stood up and a quick moment later another contraction hit.  Okay, this time I knew for certain I was in labor.  I needed Brian.

     I managed to get to the phone and called Brian.  "Hi hun, Can I give you a call right back?  I am waiting for a phone call from Mark about advice on the car." 

     I thought for a moment, "Sure.  Call me when you are done."  The words slipped out of my mouth.  There are times when I can be too polite and this was one of those moments.  I should of told him I was in labor but I didn't want to disturb him if he was busy.  I started getting things ready to head out to the hospital and waited for Brian to return my call.

     Twenty minutes goes by.  Contractions were coming and going.  The phone finally rings.  "Hey hun, what did you need."  It was my husband's voice.

     "ummm, I am in labor.  I kinda would like to go to the hospital now." I said patiently.

     Brian stumbled over the phone and said he would be right home.  Soon Brian and Doug entered the doorway.  I was in the diningroom on my hands and knees breathing hard.  Doug takes one look and says, "Yep, she is certainly in labor."

     Doug stayed with the kids and we went straight to the hospital.  We must of got there shortly after 10pm.  Labor was fast and hard.  Suddenly I had to use the bathroom.  I needed to sit.  I was scared to.  I didn't want to push the baby out thinking it was a bowel movement.  I told the nurse my fears.  She asked if I wanted something to make using the bathroom easier.  I agreed.  She gave me an enema.  Trying to use the bathroom and having hard contractions was not an easy task even with the enema but boy oh boy did that ever clean my backside out.  Brian, who is very sensitive to smells, could not handle the poisonous gas that was escaping from the bathroom.  It was so bad he had to leave the room.  Brian was out in the hallway, bending over, gagging ready to throw-up.  A nurse approached him and patted him on the back, "Is this your first baby?"

     "No, it's our third.  My wife just used the bathroom."  Brian said without looking up dry heaving.  The nurse started to laugh. 

     We ended up moving to another room to ease my husband, and probably the nursing staff and doctors, sense of smell.  I do not remember what I ate that day or the day before but it was taking its vengeance out.

     The rest of the labor went smoothly as much as labor could.  At 11:43pm a new Moyer entered the world.  "Congratulations!  It's a girl!"  said the doctor. 

     "A girl?"  Brian and I said at the same time.  We both were thinking this was going to be a boy.  She was going to be called James Reagan.  We even called her James when she was developing in my belly.  We did think of a girls name but we put that name in the back burner of our brains.  For a moment we didn't remember what we agreed upon.  Finally we remembered it.  Ashton Kae.



North and South's naughty southern belle Ashton Main with Bent.



     We chose Ashton from one of our favorite books and TV series that we both enjoy, North and South by John Jakes.  We both enjoy learning about the civil war and even though the character Ashton in the book was something of a not nice southern lady, we still thought the name was pretty.  Kae is from Brian's mom's middle name but we changed the spelling to adapt it to a part of my maiden last name.  It sounded nice together.

     As soon as my sister made it back to her apartment my mom called her to let her know I was in labor.  They immediatly drove back down to Allegan to the hospital to see the new baby.  They arrived  at a set of doors and there was a security guard sitting there in a chair.  The hospital was in the middle of a make-over and there was a lot of the hospital torn up and you had to take different ways to get to certain parts of the hospital.  "Are you here for the lady that was having a baby?"  he asks my mom and my sister.

     Bewildered that he knew that was the reason of their visit they responded, "yes, we are."

     "I think she just had it.  There was a lot of noise coming from that window," he points to an opening in the wall to where a window should be a few floors up, "then I just heard a baby cry."

     "That must be Jill." my mom says and the guard showed them how to get to my room. 

     They enter the room and I was already holding Ashton.  My sister looks at me, then around the room.  "Do you realize there are not window's in your room?!"  All I could do was laugh.  The whole floor was turned around due to the renovations. 

     Ashton's entrance to the world was nothing short of a comedy.  Personally, I like things quiet and private when I am in labor and this was so far from it.  Part of me expected Candid Camera to come around the corner to let me know this portion of my life was a joke and I can redo it to the way I wanted it to happen.  A week later we still ended up bringing my mom her political republician cake to her office but I also got to show off my sweet little new daughter along with it. 



Ashton Kae just a few weeks old.



Scared Stiff - Literally!

     It was a warm summer night.  I think I was around 9 years old, give or take a year.  We lived in Saginw Township on a busy street.  My mom was out on a date, my brother was at a friend's house for the night so my older sister had to babysit me.  There is a seven year age difference between us.  At my age I was normally the pesky little brat and she was the annoying teenage sister.  There were times we bickered but there were times we enjoyed being sisters.  This was a moment that we were enjoying our sisterhood.

     My sister Lisa and I were watching the horror movie Friday the 13th on TV.  It was one we had seen before.  I don't recall which Friday the 13th movie we were watching but we were curled up on the couch liking the movie.  There was a window next to the tv that was open to let the night air in.  The couch was across the room from that window.  At one killing scene I heard a strange sound coming from the window in a light whisper, "Jason, Jason, Jason....ah, ah, ah, ahhhh.."  Without moving my head I glanced my eyes over to the window.  I didn't see anything.  Just blackness.  Maybe I am just hearing things,  I thought and continued watching the movie.  Then a moment later the same sound was coming from the window.  "Jason, Jason, Jason...ah, ah, ah, ahhh..."   It was odd because I always thought the sound when Jason Voorheis was about to strike was, "ch, ch, ch, ch.   Ah, ah, ah, ahhh.".  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed my sister turned her head towards the window.  Oh my gosh!  She heard something too!

     "Why don't you go shut and lock the front door."  Lisa said casually.  The main door was located behind the wall that the tv was on just in another room.  We could not see the front door from where we were sitting.  The wooden door was open leaving just a metal screen door to protect us from what is outside.

     My eyes popped out of my head.  "NO!  You go shut and lock the door!  You are older!"  I snapped back.

     "But you need to mind and I told YOU to do something!"  she piped back. 

     As we continued our arguing the screen door started opening and closing really fast.  We knew someone was there at the door.  Fear like I had never experienced flooded over my body.  My sister stands up abruptly and hollars, "QUICK!  FOLLOW ME!" and she dashes to the left to my brothers bedroom door(which was next to the couch), through his bedroom and out the other door in his room (which led to the kitchen) and out the kitchen back door to the outside.  She achieved freedom. 

     I think we both stood up at the same time but my brain lost all communication to my muscles.  They didn't want to move.  I had no feeling, at all, in my entire body.  I looked over and my sister was gone.  GONE!  SHE LEFT ME ALONE TO FACE THIS TERROR ENTERING OUR HOME!  I couldn't follow.  I couldn't move.  All I could do was think. Run to the bathroom, I would say to myself, No!  Then I would have to run past the door and whoever was breaking in would see me.  Our bathroom had the only interior door that locked.  A sure safety but too risky.  Hide underneath the computer table!  No!  To obvious.  Hide behind the tv.  No!  He would see me for sure.  Hide behind the curtain.  No!  It would puff out to where I was standing.  Nothing I could think of would be a safe hiding place.  Even if I could think of a safe place to hide I don't think my legs would be able to take me there.  Oh how I wished I was able to move and dash out the back like my sister did.

     I looked down at the coffee table and there was a glass cermanic gray elephant.  It was poised with the trunk curled up around to the top of the head, mouth open and one leg up in a prance.  Somehow, for a brief moment, my brain had a small communication with my upper half of my body and  I was able to reach down and grab this elephant by his trunk and raise it above my head.  I still could not move my lower half of my body.  This ceramic gray elephant was going to save me from whatever was behind the door trying to make its way inside to kill me.  I envisioned myself using this elephant to beat this person over and over until they were knocked out or dead. 

     The door stopped opening and closing.  I held my breath not knowing what to expect next.  My fingers tightened around the ceramic trunk of the elephant preparing myself to use it violently.  I closed my eyes for a moment.  All was silent.  An eerie silent.  I was as still as the statue I was holding.  It felt like an eternity had passed.  I strained hard to open my eyes.  I seen some movement.  Then my brain registered what I was seeing.  Shoes!  Shoes were being kicked off.  I looked harder.  I know those shoes.  Then a familar face appears from around the corner.  MATT!  It was my sister's boyfriend.  He looked over at me with a huge grin on his face amused that I was standing there with a ceramic elephant held high above my head. 

     Looking around he asks, "Where's your sister?"
 
     "She ran out the back." 

     He laughs and starts to put his shoes back on.  "Play along." he says and gives a wink. 

     Finally, my brain starts the communication process up with all my muscles and I was able to move again.  It was such a great feeling to be able to move and knowing that I was not about to be a worm's meal.  But now I was on the other side of the playing field, against my sister, who left me to die.  It was my turn to help her get scared.  I roamed around the house yelling out the dark windows, "Lisa!  I'm scared!  Help me!"  I would shout out while roaming around the house.

     A familar voice from the outside answered, "Go to our bedroom and open the window so I can climb back inside."

     I dashed to our bedroom, unlocked the latch and popped out the screen.  We gently placed our desk chair out the window so she can use that to step up and into the window.  She finally makes her way in the bedroom and hugs me tightly.  I remember thinking, she is probably sooo lucky I am not dead she knows mom would seriously go psycho on you if I were!

     Suddenly there was a slam at the back door.  This time she grabs my hand to make sure I stay with her and we go steadly towards the back door.  Knowing that I know it was Matt I was able to move along and play the part.  We proceed cautiously and carefully.  We pass through the kitchen, pass my brother's door, to the back door.  Lisa turns on the garage light, locks the door, and looks around through the glass in the door.  While we were busy looking to see if we can see anything in the garage Matt jumps out from our brother's bedroom and gives a loud roar.  Lisa jumps practically out of her skin and falls to the floor hysterically crying.  I jump sideways against the wall scrapping my back on the lightswitch.  Laughter came from my lips. 

     Over 25 years have passed but we still look back at this moment and remember the fear and laughter that came with it.  It may have not been our best sister/sister moment but it was a moment we shared and now laugh together.

A Memory of the Green Acres Haunted House

     It was the autumn of 1991. I was a freshman at Nouvel Catholic High School.  Part of our school requirements was volunteering so many hours per year depending on what grade you are in.  I think as freshmen we had to volunteer 20 hours with something during the school year.  An organization was putting together a community haunted house in a vacant store set in Green Acres Plaza in Saginaw, Michigan.  He called the local private schools and put the word out that he needed volunteers.  This was a great opportunity for students to get their volunteer hours. 

     The building was the corner store in the plaza.  I remember at one time it was a restaurant called the Sweden House Buffet.  Shortly after that it was called Duffy's Buffet.  For the longest time it would stand empty.  Last I knew it was a Powerhouse Gym but I think that even closed down.  The whole strip mall which used to be packed with businesses is slowly dying but that is a different story.

     On a particular day a crowd of people showed up to help volunteer from all different schools across Saginaw.  Most of the haunted house was already set up.  There was different stations where people would walk past in a dark labyrinth going from one side of the building to the other side led by zombie butler-type of people.  We had to audition for different scenes set up in the haunted house.  We had to scream in terror and cackle like a witch.  Some, I must say, were impressing to hear. 

     The haunted house was 2 weekends long and I think it was even every night during the week around Halloween.  It was a huge production.  I played in several different scenes on different nights.  One scene was a "live wall".  Basically it was a canvas that was camouflaged with imatition vines and leaves.  There was 8 of us working the wall, 4 on each side.  When a group of people would pass through we would moan and groan while pushing the wall forward.  The group of people really didn't expect that and we could hear them scream and scamper further forward to pass the area. 

     I was also a zombie monster.  I had a scary rubber mask and dark trench coat.  I sat in a corner almost invisible.  When a group of people would pass on by I would follow them quietly.  We weren't allowed to touch the people so I couldn't tap anyone on the shoulder.  The "Butler" would give clues outloud telling people to be careful; that things can lurk up behind them.  I would be there, arms stretched out in front like I was about to grab someone.  The group would quickly turn the corner and another scary scene would begin for them.

    The famous shower scene was another skit I worked on.  We would listen for the cue of another scene going off.  Then I hopped in a bathtub with the shower curtain around me.  My killer would turn on the strobe lights.  He would walk across the room, with his mask on, and act like he is stabbing me through the shower curtain.  I, of course, would scream and fall down in the tub sticking my arm out with fake blood running down my arm.  During one performance the killer tripped over something and fell into me causing us to fall in the tub and the shower curtain  broke off from above.  I was still covered with the shower curtain and I screamed because I did not expect that but afterwards it was hard to hold in our laughter. 

     One of my favorite scenes was the jungle girl.  I had to wear a leaf style bikini top with a grass skirt.  It had a cute leafy head wreath to complete the outfit.  I stood on a four and a half foot platform tied up with vines to a leafy wall.  I was able to tie myself up in the vines so it wasn't anything too restrictive.  A man dressed up like an ape hid in the platform under me.  As the line of people pass by I would scream out, "HELP ME!  THE APE MAN IS GOING TO GET ME!  I NEED SOMEONE TO SAVE ME!" and I would shriek out in bewteen while twisting and turning around in the ivy vines.   Then the ape would jump out from under the platform and scare the crowd.  I knew being up higher that there wasn't going to be any mishaps. 

     There were two scenes that stood out as really lame to me.  One was the washing machine monster.  There was a washing machine in the backgroud and pipes and rubber hoses were coming out of it.  I would tangle myself in the hoses, and with strobe lights, I would act like I was being pulled into the washing machine.  I remember wiggling around thinking how stupid I feel.  No one is scared of washing machines.  But I still played the part, screaming away. 

     The other scene was a radiation leak.  I would wear one of those white radiation suits.  There was a black light above to help cast off an eerie look.  When the people were coming close I would hit a button which gave off a loud beeping warning.  I would start trying to pull off the radiation uniform screaming, "THERE IS A CONTAMINATION LEAK!  RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!  WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!"  I would drop to the floor, act like I was in agony and then die.  Deep down I would think This is Saginaw.  It is already contaminated with bad things.  Radiation wouldn't seem so bad.

     There were other scenes that I was not in but it was still fun to watch.  One was the swinging ax pendulum.  A woman would wear an outfit that looked like Princess Jasmine in the Dinsey cartoon Aladin.  She was strapped down and the pendulum would swing back and forth.  Of course she would scream out for help from those who passed by. 

     The witches scene from Shakespeare's MacBeth, although not scary, was one of the cues to listen to to know where the crowd is and when to set up certain scenes.  Standing around a kettle stirring with a long wooden stick the three witches would chant, "Double, Double, Toil and trouble. Fire burn, and cauldron bubble"  and then cackle.  It was so catchy of a rhyme it was stuck in most of our heads for the longest time.

     Every night there was a line of people waiting to get in.  Half way through the night there would be an intermission and we would take a break, grab a bite to eat, fix some of the props and some would even switch scenes.  Everyone had their own way of putting the scene to life.  It was very interesting to be a part of it.