"Are you ready for Halloween, Mom?"

This blog started because my family was in crisis and I didn't have time to go to therapy.  I needed an outlet.  Baguettes were making me fat and chocolate was rotting me teeth.  And my heart and my spirit were broken.  All over drugs and my "button's" addiction.

There are certain songs, foods, things, that remind you of other people.  Footlong hotdogs, David C.  Mamasita Chips, my husband.
Peppermint patties and marshmallows, my niece Emma.  Pop Tarts and instant vanilla pudding, my brother. "Build my Up Buttercup", my bff.  Pepperoni rolls, Morgantown, WVA. Lilacs, my great grandma.

While I don't write about the "button" anymore, Halloween kicks my heart.  I challenge anyone to love Halloween more than the "button". At seven years old, he would sit in the garage, on a plastic tablecloth and carve pumpkins.  I know it was insane to let a 7 year old with a sharp object but he was a little man on a mission.  One pumpkin for every year he was old. 

The "button" was ahead of his time.  He was a Pintrest craze at 7.  When he was 10, he spray painted a pumpkin black.  Then carved it.  He was a pintrest genius.

He would plan his costume in July.  And he always wanted to be unique.  Pilgrim, George Washington, Indian Chief, Superman, he was a child with a plan. 

We always made a trip up "north" for Pumpkin farms, corn mazes and the "big fall trip."

The day after Halloween, annual trip to WalMart for 50% off costumes and stuff.  He loved it.  He always said it was the third best day of the year.  He would always pick out a costume and wear it all year.  Just for the heck of it.  Typically, it was super hero or Star Wars related. 

My favorite picture of my three kids will always be BATMAN, Robin and Catwoman.  They were digging through the "costumes" bucket and found these. I can hear them giggling.   It melts my heart every time I look at the photo.  Good times.

When I was a child, things were different.  You went with your mom to the fabric store and picked out the "Simplicity" pattern for your costume.  If your mom did not sew, you went to WOOLWORTH to get your costume in the box with the mask that just made your face sweaty.  And that mask smelled.  Hated those things.  Secretly dreamed about a costume in a box until I put a mask on.  Ugh.

When you grow up in Pittsburgh, you have to plan your Halloween costume with one  thought, "what will this look like with long underwear underneath it?

When I was about 10, I was the Jolly Green Giant.  Long underwear dyed green with RIT dye.  My mom sewed green leaves on that sucker for weeks.  And I was allowed to paint my face green.

My mom made amazing costumes.  Santa Claus (my fave), won my brother and I the Delmont Halloween parade.  I pulled him in the metal Red Ryder wagon, decorated to look like a sleigh filled with toys to the fire department where the prizes were announced.  I think the prize was a silver dollar.  I really don't remember.  I just remember my mom was pumped!  Go Linda. 

Even if you didn't understand the days and months of the year, you knew Halloween was close when you went to my mamaw's house.  Proudly sitting on the giant stereo was "the pumpkin".  The pumpkin she made in ceramics in 1961.  She would fill that pumpkin with concession stand candy bars.  Baby Ruth.  My mamaw's name was Ruth.  She was so witty.  When you saw that pumpkin, you knew.
No inflatables, no orange lights, no television commercials, Facebook messages, tweets, just a pumpkin. 

My dad would load us up in the back of his pickup truck and let us move from house to house (you could not walk on anybody's yard, sidewalks only) and after about 10 houses, we would get in the back with about 20 other kids to the next drop off point.  Halloween was the only night of the year we were allowed to ride in the back of a pickup truck.

And after killing it in Bel Air Manor, we came home to dump the pillowcase.  Honestly, your parent's going through the candy is a scam.  My mom would grab those Mallow Cups like they were gold.  Licorice too.  My dad went after the CLARK bars or Oh Henry's. 

And after the sort, my mom would take the candy and put it in the big pasta bowl in the cupboard.

By November, only the hard candy was left.

It was a joyous time. 

Tuesday, I was in my car a significant amount of time. 
Where had those simpler times gone?  Wish we could have those Halloween Parades like we had in down town Delmont.  Why isn't penny candy a penny anymore?  And again, when did ever thing become so over the top?

And what happened to my "button?"  My son was not allowed passed the mailbox and now I didn't even know his mailing address.  I have no idea how to mail a Halloween card to my son.  Unreal.  His favorite time of year and maybe it wasn't.  I didn't even really know.  Our relationship is now just a sliver.  All of us.  We just had a sliver of a relationship with him. 

My mind went off to dark and sad times.  I reeled myself back in.  My husband and I are great.  My other kids great.  Our lives are happy. We have Peace.  We have healed.  I don't have a relationship, really, of any kind with my pumpkin carver, but we have healed and moved on.  And as I reeled myself in, I still shook my head.  Those who have never been involved with addiction will never understand.  You have to be in addiction hell to ever understand. 

There is something about this time of year that tugs at my heart.  I see "the pumpkin" and I my heart goes to Vine Street, Greensburg, Pa, home of my mamaw.  It goes there more in October than any time of the year.  All with happy thoughts but still missing getting a Halloween card from that address. 

And I pull out Halloween pictures of my kids and I look at my Pilgrim "Button" and I just shake my head.  And try and keep my heart healed any Hope opened.  Not going to lie, after tons of therapy and naranon meetings, still hard to do. 

Yesterday, in the middle of political broadcast television pre empt hell, I heard a text notification on my phone.  Didn't even look.  I had to find a place for these commercials that were bumped by politicians.

As I completed pre empt hell, I sat back in my chair and I looked at my phone.

"are you ready for Halloween mom?"  A question from the "button."

Six words.  Just six words.  Six words that equaled HOPE. 

I haven't had six words like this in almost one year. 

No obscenities.  He didn't ask me for anything.  He asked me if I was ready for Halloween?

This weekend we will run into neighbors and friends buying candy, candles, whatever and we will look at those folks and ask, "ready for Halloween?"

We haven't spray painted a pumpkin black here in awhile.  Going to do it. 

Going to reach into that ceramic pumpkin from 1961 and going to pass out Hershey Bars and Skittles (concession stand size) and say Happy Halloween to all. 

What I really want to say is "take my candy.  Halloween has given me fabulous memories.  Halloween continues to give me HOPE". 
HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

Vote for the uncoupling of Facebook.

When Gwenyth Paltrow made the statement that she and her husband were "consciously uncoupling", I was certain that it was  more crazy, out of touch Hollywood rhetoric.

Over the past six months I have felt like I have been doing my own "uncoupling" with Facebook and some "friends".

Not anything crazy like sitting down and deleting 300 people because they don't like the color pink, just a "I need to reevaluate the definition of the word friend."

A  few weeks ago at a "girls night out " my wise friend KB said, "I wish I could do my wedding and Facebook over.  I knew exactly what she meant.

When I got on Facebook, an old boyfriend talked me into it.  "You will get to reconnect with people all over the world, it is great, you will love it."

At first, it was just a few groups.  My Greenville, SC group, my RIVER 97.3 group and some WVU peeps.  That is just the way I wanted.  Small.  Almost "private" social media.

And then it started, the lady who I worked in the concession stand (barley knew her name) four three hours felt like we needed to be social media friends.  The Homeroom Mom who asked my to bring in chips and dips for a party, now Facebook Friends.  

I know, I didn't have to accept.  But then the guilt or awkwardness comes.  I am going to see her again and she is going to look at me like "cannot believe that bitch, all high and mighty with her gluten free chips and dip would not be my Facebook friend."

And bam...there it was.  Everything that I didn't want with Social Media, I had.  

Lately, at 55 years old, I would see posts that hurt my feelings.  Ridiculous.  This is ridiculous.  I am 55 years old.  It was almost worse than high school.  Almost like passive aggressive cyber bullying. I just said, "time to let go".  Enough.

Pictures of friends, now BFF's , group shots of folks out on the town and my favorite was my "squad" at an event I was supposed to be attending.  My friend, and yes, she is still my friend, was to get back to me.  She did but via facebook messenger.  I deleted facebook messenger.  Hate it. So they went without me.  Suicidal and confused all over a facebook post.  Again, I am out of high school for how many years?  

Now I also realize that my posts have also hurt feelings.  I own this.

I also own that I have no doubt put or written things on Facebook that I should not have written or posted.  Cyberspace family, I am sorry.

And during these last six months, I came to a conclusion, the friends I thought I had, I don't.  The friends I have had the longest, are still the go to friends.  And those friends who have always made me laugh, still make me laugh. 


I started not to even really care.   And to open up my heart and my mind and pay more attention to folks that I didn't before, in real life and in cyberspace.


Just about the time I thought it was safe....it was time for an election.
  I vote.  In fact, I have an impeccable voting record.  I listen to way too much talk radio and I take the right to vote seriously.  And, even if you oppose me, I still take YOUR right to vote seriously.

We are free.  We get to chose.  Women, we get to vote without the fear of being raped after we cast our ballot and we know how to read.  It truly is amazing.

I don't care who you vote for or why, how often you vote, I just care that you do vote and you don't chose a candidate just because they will look good on the cover of PEOPLE magazine.

This election has been brutal.  It isn't the Trump or the Hillary factor.  It has been the FACEBOOK factor.  Relentless posts that are untrue, not checked, mean, rude and stupid.  Really stupid.  My favorite posts are the ones that tell me if I chose one candidate over the other then it means that I love nature, don't tell the truth, have a hard time staying in committed relationships, blah blah, blah.

And, I have sat with my mouth open, wide open, aghast at what people I "THOUGHT" I knew (after all, they are my FACEBOOK Friend) felt about a certain politician.  
Again, I realize that perhaps people had the same reaction from me as well.  I own this.

I have been stunned by folks who have a filthier mouth than me, be outraged by lewd comments but cannot express how lewd the comments are without using the F-word.
 

Last week a TRUMP/PENCE truck delivered relief items to areas here in Eastern North Carolina.  At this point, relief items from anyone, was not newsworthy.  What is and was newsworthy is the items were arriving.  

A picture of the TRUMP/PENCE box truck filled with supplies was posted and shared on social media numerous times.  The caption under the picture said, "TRUMP/PENCE and no media coverage.

Again, this is not newsworthy. What is newsworthy is that the needed supplies were coming. I know I am naive, but I am certain that Donald and Melania did not walk hand in hand in Wal-Mart with a Hurricane Relief app crossing off items to fit into the box truck.  I am certain the Mr. Pence did not change into a t-shirt and shorts to load the truck.  Who cares how or why or who or when the supplies got here? The supplies got here.  The argument can be made it was done for votes or you can say that if you are running, you should send.  Just trying to be fair and balanced.  (Sorry, couldn't wait  to throw that zinger in)

There were over 16,000 posts.  Over 75% were the foul, mean, negative and repulsive.    It was amazing.  These are supplies for people who didn't even have toilet paper.  Couldn't blow a nose.  Couldn't wash hands, had wet shoes and socks, lost cars, homes washed down the street and you are calling people who accept these boxes of KLEENEX F------ assholes because it came from TRUMP?  Really?  Have you ever had your home float on by you with all your contents in it while you stood there muddy shoes and socks waving it goodbye?

Have we really become a society who has the nerve to say what ever and hide behind a profile picture?  One of the ladies challenged the hecklers and said, get off Facebook and give to the Red Cross.  Amazing.  I was simply amazed at the response, the one sided, mean responses. Over Kleenex.  Kleenex.  Some bottled waters.  Diapers and granola bars. 

Because we can text it or type it, without looking at anyone in the eye, does that fuel the fire to be brutal? 

Just because we have the right to be free, when did that right translate to "giving someone the right to be a jerk, to steal, to say mean spirited things to fellow Americans you don't even know.?"

We live in a society where kids are over dosing on the hour from illegal drugs  purchased from skanky drug dealers who go as far to lace them with elephant tranquilizers and NOBODY wants to say ANYTHING but a flood victim accepts a roll of toilet paper to wipe and folks go bizerk?

The good news is my phone died.  I couldn't find a charger.  I sat in my chair in the darkness of a Saturday night and shock my head.  

On Sunday morning, I charged my phone.  

Later in the day, I posted about the lack of attention and absence of the President here in Eastern North Carolina.  My friend called me.  She said, Hey, don't want to call you out on Facebook but, here is why the President cannot and will not come.  My dad worked for the Secret Service."

I went back onto Facebook later that day and explained what I had learned.

I am not perfect.  Not even going to pretend.  

The election is not bad.  It has been educational.  We have learned that the best people do not always want to seek the highest office in the land.  We have learned that if you entered the teeniest bikini contest 33 years ago, and the media gets pictures of it, you are screwed.  Doesn't matter if you won the contest or lost the contest, you and your past is bait.

They say, "the past comes back to haunt you."  Boy, run for office and you will find a past you might not have known existed.  

We have learned that journalists now go to candidate fund raiser dinners and give millions of dollars.  When I lived in Morgantown, WV and was in Journalism School, I was working for a Politician.  When my advisor, Frank Kearns, whom I adored, told me I couldn't do both, I quit working for John Hinkle.  I have learned the rules have changed.

We have learned that we are not all alike.  Some are decided, some are undecided.  Some are Independents and some just don't care.  But, all of us, have the same right.  We have the right to vote, to speak and have an opinion.  We don't have the right to be mean, unkind, steal, hit, spray paint, throw bricks or anything your grandmother would not approve.  

And we are all patriotic.  We care.  We care about our country.  "When the most passionate person in the room is quiet, you have a problem."  One of my favorite quotes.  


Instead of term limits, I think in the next election, you should only allowed to be on Facebook for a certain amount of time per day and then your phone shuts off.  Not going to happen, I know.  It would be great if the moderators could learn to shut the mics off when candidates talk over one another.  Or, they could host the debates on the movie set of Willy Wonka.  When time is up, if they go over, just send them down the hole with the Ompah-Lumpahs.  

What I learned about my friends through this Facebook/election process is the same.  The same folks who made me laugh before, still make me laugh, even if I don't agree with their choice. I learned that a significant amount of my Facebook friend list, I didn't even like anymore.    And I learned that this is truly the Greatest Country in the World, most of the time.  Great Countries are the result of great folks conversing with one another.

Perhaps we should all get back on our phones and talk to one another instead of hitting a "LIKE" button.  Maybe we should sit across the table from one another and look at one another and say the things that we easily post.  Wouldn't that be an interesting exercise?  Can I get a "LIKE"?

How about just till November 8, instead of political rants, we just post why we love the USA.?  You can hit the like button and go about your business.  And, we think before we speak, speak as much as we can in person, and read out loud before we hit "post."

God Bless the USA.