Haunted Deseret

"I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story…" --Edgar Allen Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart

It’s amazing to me how great art and literature is sometimes born of disturbed minds. Perhaps it is maniacal genius; perhaps it is just plain giftedness in unwell brains. Either way, there’s nothing like a story written by a disturbed genius to get under your skin and make you feel unsettled.

Last night I talked Jesse and my sisters Melanie and Kate into going to “The Haunted Deseret.” Basically around Halloween-time, they take the Old Deseret Village (a recreation of a pioneer village up in Salt Lake) and turn it into a haunted village. When we got there, it was light-hearted enough. A large group of people were gathered in a pavilion where they were serving donuts and cider, and doing old-time dances like the Virginia Reel to a live band. Hay and pumpkins everywhere completed the festive, fall atmosphere.

They eventually split us up into groups, and a guide led us by lantern light out into the village. The guide was supposed to tell us spooky stories about the village, but quite frankly they weren’t that interesting. But the first home we stopped in made the whole evening worthwhile for me. We gathered in the small parlor of a pioneer home, where a man sat at a writing table, with his back to the burning fire in the fireplace. We warmed up quickly in the cozy room, and I particularly enjoyed the smell of the wood burning in the fire—much like a campfire. Perfect for ghost stories!

The man was a professional story-teller, and he was “in character.” He wore an old-time suit, and studied us all closely over his spectacles as he nervously twitched. Then he started telling us “his” story…

It turned out to be Edgar Allen Poe’s story of The Tell-Tale Heart. I remember reading it before, but it never had quite the impact as hearing it told by a man so gifted that even his maniacal chuckle and laughter was enough to make my skin crawl. Needless to say, I was utterly fascinated through the whole story, and for a few moments forgot that it was just a story.

The main thing I remembered about this narrative from before is that the main character is mad, and kills an old man because he thinks the old man's eye is evil and makes him crazy.

Okay, so Kate is not an old man, nor does her eye look evil, but it is nevertheless an illustration of the bizarre basis of the story.

The rest of the story-tellers that even were just kind of so-so compared to that first story. And it left me a little unsettled for the rest of the evening--the sign of a good story, told well! We finished the evening by turning to walk down the main street just in time to see the headless horseman go by. I’m not kidding.

The overall atmosphere was perfectly Halloween-ish without being gory or too frightening. The perfect activity to get us in the spirit for Halloween tomorrow.

Gothic Horror

"I wish I had a kryptonite cross, because then you could keep both Dracula AND Superman away." --Jack Handey

I love Halloween. I’m not sure if it’s because I like creepy things sometimes, or if it’s just that fall is my favorite time of year, and it’s a fall holiday. In any case, I look forward to October almost as much as I look forward to December.

Last October I traveled to England with my cousin Emily and our roommate (at the time) Heidi. Having some strange Wuthering Heights-ish desire to see the Yorkshire Moors, I dragged the three of us to a coastal town in northeast England called Whitby. I didn’t know much about it before we went, and it took a lot of traveling (trains and buses) to get up there, but it was definitely a find! We saw a lot of cities and towns on that trip, but I think that was one of our favorites. One thing we discovered about the place was that the old abbey and cemetery – which were pretty creepy – inspired Bram Stoker as he wrote Dracula. The place certainly had an atmosphere that lent itself to creepy and ghost stories. Fascinated by everything we saw, I purchased the book.

So this October, in honor of last year’s trip as well as the Halloween season, I decided to finally read Dracula. I’d been a little curious about Stoker’s creation of this monster that has inspired the imagination of people since it was published. It’s given rise to many movies (none of which really follow the story very well, apparently), and the overall concept of vampires – from scary stories to such harmless images as Count Chocula cereal or “the Count” on Sesame Street.

This book is not at all what I expected. Written entirely of letters, newspaper articles, and journal entries, the story takes you through the consciousness and perspectives of several different characters. It does start in Transylvania, and moves to Whitby, England (the descriptions of the town make me smile, though). I found this quote on a review of the book:

“Above all, Dracula is a quintessential story of suspense and horror, boasting one of the most terrifying characters in literature: centuries-old Count Dracula, whose diabolical passions prey upon the innocent, the helpless, the beautiful.”

It’s Gothic Horror at its finest, and most disturbing. It’s dark…very, very dark. It’s gruesome, terrifying, twistedly sensual, and psychologically frightening. I expected this somewhat, but not to such an intense degree. I almost expected it to be educational – background on where our concept of Dracula comes from. After all, it’s classic literature. But what I found was a book that I can’t read when I’m alone, and I can’t read it at night. In fact, the only place I’ve found that I can handle it is in the brightly lit gym, surrounded by people while I sweat on the exercise bike.

And it’s utterly fascinating.

However, this year when I see people dressed as Count Dracula for Halloween, I won’t be able to help shuddering a little.

Fanaticism

I think it’s time I announce my venture into geekdom. Although what true geekdom is, I’m not really sure. When I was in middle school, I was a fantasy novel addict, but I didn’t hang out with the kids who played role-playing games and dressed in black--and actually wished that dragons were real. No, I was a little more subtle than that.

In all my fantasy novel reading, I had never read Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings. Possibly because I always associated it with the silly cartoon, The Hobbit, that I used to watch as a kid, and the cartoon Gollum--quite frankly--gave me nightmares. So when the first movie came out almost two years ago, I wasn’t anxious to see it. But Mike convinced me to go (and had to bribe me by using a free movie pass so I wouldn’t have to pay), and after seeing that first film, I was absolutely hooked. I ran out and bought the book, read all 1100 pages or so within a few weeks, and even listened to the soundtrack of the film while reading--just for the full effect. I must’ve seen that film in the theater 8 or more times.

But that’s not the real geeky part. Last October I dressed as Arwen for Halloween. That December, I was there with the rest of the fanatics at midnight to see the second movie. I’ve even been reviewing the entire book again, just to make sure I get everything.

But even that’s not the really geeky part. So, if you’re a Sloanie.com fan, you know what happened last week. Tickets went on sale for “Trilogy Tuesday.” One theater in Utah, one day only, 500 tickets--and we wanted in. For the opportunity to see the extended versions of the first two films on the big screen, right in a row, just before seeing the final film, Return of the King, Mike and the boys were willing to do just about whatever it took.

So two days before tickets went on sale, I went down with Mike right after work to snag a place in the already forming line. There we set up a tent and chairs, and Mike worked out a schedule among family and friends to share the line-waiting duties, and we entered the world of true LOTR fanatics. People sat around and played Lord of the Rings Risk, watched the movies, and basically talked Tolkein for two days. Mike calls that serious “geekin’ out.” Definitely a unique group. But a lot of them were experienced in the line-party thing, so they kind of developed their own government, with one person managing a list of who was where in line, to ensure that tickets would be had by the people who were there early enough.

I hung out in the line when I could, and delivered food when needed. The funny thing was, we assumed it would be a pain to stay in line like that. But once you got there, and participated in the atmosphere, it was – geeks and all - a lot of fun. Most of the family came down at one time or another, and no one felt like leaving. I was getting so excited for the new movie and the Trilogy event, I could hardly stand it!

With our tickets in our possession now, all we have to do is wait. And wait. But the anticipation may just kill me. I’ve started a countdown on my phone so I know just how many days and hours left. (About 62 days left, if you want to know.) The last time I put a countdown on my phone was for my wedding. That’s how big this is.

Yes, I think I’ve ventured into true geekdom there. But I’m definitely not alone.

Molly

Today I had one of those moments that I don’t really want again for a long time. I sat in the animal hospital with my mom, dad, and brother, saying our last good-byes to our golden retriever Molly. She’s over 11 years old, and hasn’t been the healthiest dog in the last several years, but I wasn’t expecting the heart-wrenching emotion that we experienced saying good-bye to her.

I won’t describe the euthanasia scene. It’s enough to say that I’ve never seen my dad cry like that before, and my mom couldn’t stay in the room. My dad just cradled her head, and she quietly passed away. It’s amazing to me how attached we can become to animals. How that dog was somehow a part of our family. I can’t imagine how many holes in daily life she is going to leave now. I guess you don’t really understand how much something is a part of your life until it’s gone. Mike describes “last moments” pretty well on his blog, because that was exactly what it was like. I just wanted to pet her, kiss her, and say, “Hi, baby,” like I have for years.

So I started thinking about all my memories with Molly. Like when we went to get her as a puppy from Dad’s friend out in Spanish Fork. When we brought her home, Gus was so intimidated by her that he used to shepherd her around. Until she got much bigger than him (which didn’t take long), and he still tried to act superior. But she could fit his whole neck in her mouth – and did so frequently. Just playing of course.

Molly loved the snow. She especially loved deep snow, because then she could leap around. No one was more excited for snow to fall than her. We would throw snowballs, and she would go chase them and bury her face in the snow where it fell. Of course, she loved to fetch tennis balls, too…and we used to spend hours out in the back, just throwing balls for Molly to retrieve. And she would bring them back and drop them at your feet, totally covered in slobber! And if no one would play with her, she would bounce the ball around herself, and toss it in the air herself. She even used to get on the trampoline and bounce herself and the ball around – or bounce with whoever was out there.

She loved to go out for walks, or running. I used to take her running with me, and she would either stop to smell something, and stop me short, or be way ahead of me, or even just stop, right in front of me, causing me to trip over her. It was never dull with her. She loved car rides, and all you had to do was open up the door, and she would jump in the car and take her place.

There were lots of little things about her that will always make me smile to think about. She would wag her tail and whack stuff with it – including Gus. If you were sleeping anywhere within her range, you were likely to be rudely awakened by a lick in the face. If she was begging for food at dinnertime, she would put her head on your knee and look up at you longingly, with her big, brown doggy eyes. She often fell asleep in Gus’s bed, even though it was a tight fit, because Gus would steal her bigger bed. She did what we called “carpet swimming,” because she had allergies, and an easy way to scratch her stomach was to drag herself along the carpet.

She loved the family, and was protective of the kids. When we all slept outside on the trampoline, she wanted to be right there in the middle – to cuddle and to protect. She always followed Mom around like a shadow. You always knew where Mom was, because the dogs were right on her heels. She loved Dad, who called her Big Red, and no matter how big she was, she would jump up on his lap for a good scratch. She somehow knew that she was HIS dog.

What endears me to Molly, though, is the fact that her presence made home seem like home somehow. When I was away on my mission, if I ever had bouts or moments of homesickness, I would usually think of and miss our two “puppies.” When I imagined that ultimate moment of arriving home, after the airport and seeing family and friends, it was walking through the front door and seeing Molly and Gus there to greet me – like they always were. That would mean I was really home.

She was a dog with a big heart and a lot of love, but with an ailing body in recent years. She is happy and free now – free from her allergies and pains. But we’ll miss our Murly, Big Red, and Molly.

Hopefully I will get some pictures of her up soon.

America's New Pastime

“Why do they bounce the ball like that? I mean, doesn’t it seem kind of childish?”
“No, that’s called dribbling. If you don’t keep dribbling, you get called for traveling.”
--Fletch

Moms have a way of giving good advice, and when I actually stop to listen, mine gives great advice. Except awhile ago, when she told me that since I had married a football fanatic, I was going to have to learn to – if not like football – at least understand the game a little.

When I was younger, it was a treat to go to BYU games with Dad. But I remember that the only thing my dad taught me that I remembered was that little 25-second timer. I knew that if it ever got to zero, then it was “delay of game.” Which, let’s be honest, happened so rarely, that I stopped watching even that after awhile. My dad probably tried to teach me more, but I was too preoccupied with discovering what a football stadium looked like underneath with my cousin Emily. Maybe that’s why our dads finally decided football tickets were wasted on us…

So, years later, and after watching my brothers play little league football for years, and living in the same household as several football fanatics, I still had no real, solid grasp on the game. But suddenly I find myself at football games with my husband – and I decided to make an effort. So I’ve been asking questions and trying to figure out this game of football, and why it’s so fascinating.

Last night was NFL Monday Night Football, and Indianapolis played Tampa Bay. I knew nothing of these two teams, but here’s the scenario: we grab a pizza, and sit in front of the TV to eat (something Jesse never does). Then I go try to clean up the kitchen and attend to my wifely duties (harhar…I was really just cutting up strawberries), but Jesse was shouting out updates every few minutes. And oddly enough…I wanted to hear them! I popped in the room every few minutes to see how it was going, and it ended up being a pretty fascinating game.

Now, am I going to be like my mom, and get really uptight during Sunday football games, and scold the players on TV when they start fights? Ummm…maybe not. But I have to say, finally, that football is a fascinating game.

There. I admitted it. But I’d still choose to watch Pride & Prejudice over a football game!