Halloween decorations have begun to haunt even my local drugstore … it’s too obviously That Time of the Year, again. Last night I was minding my own business searching for lozenges down the candy-and-quasi-med aisle of Walgreens when SOMEONE saw fit to place a motion-detector shrieking ghost in back of the Snickers section. (Undismayed, I snatched a handful of bars and RAN….)
As dancin’ around to the ‘Ghostbustahs’ theme song for 3 days has evoked in me a memory of ghosts I have seen, heard, or feared, it seems time (and well before Halloween, might I add) for a ghostly re-assessment of the entire specter issue.
Now, let’s make one thing clear from the start: extensive research personally conducted at a tender age proved to me that, contrary to popular opinion, apparitions are nothing to fear. Indeed, they possibly may be some of our best friends returned to some semblance of perception.
And obviously, all those moans and groans originate with the refusal of The Living to acknowledge them. (Heck, if I made a laborious journey to visit a distant friend only to be received with screams or blank stares, I would moan and groan too….)
Now, having dispensed with the moaning issue on Diane’s Scale (bathroom as well as supernatural) of Horror, we turn to the second potential for horror: the white sheet.
Think about it: you have deceased (to create a new verb. Acknowledged writers have poetic license in this matter…). Not only are you ‘gone’ – so is your entire life’s wardrobe. And credit card. And all your back issues of Fashion Magazine.
Given the positive lack of fashion advice, money or clothes, is it any puzzle that your typical Ghostly Apparition turns to Classic TideyWhities? Wherein lies the horror in THIS sad fact, I asketh?
I ain’t afraid of no ghost! There’s nothing to fear about something that only partially appears, crying over its lack of fashion accessories….and most of these spirits come bringing messages.
Grandma, for example, passed when I was about 19. She had a DEFINITE post-passage message for the people who bought her house, too.
ALL her rosebushes died. At once. As soon as the home transfer paperwork was signed. Plague?? I think not.
Grandma loved her rosebushes and always rued the day she rented out her house a few years before her passing (even though circumstances had forced her to move in first with a surly daughter, then with dubious ‘friends’ who demonstrated an unhealthy interest in her bank account balance.) Her stormy final years were obviously reflected not in the rosebush deaths, but in the single branch which remained green at the center of each ‘hand’ of four surrounding (dead) branches.
Yup …. Grandma was givin’ her replacements the Green Finger.
Something she was waay too polite to achieve whilst living.
Proving Grandma was STILL feisty somewhere – and WAS watching over us all…
I ain’t afraid of no ghost!