Our peaceful contemplation following our Hallow’s Eve feast was interrupted. Not, as one would expect, by a knock on the door, but by a forceful bursting in of the door. A black clad figure, masked, except for his eyes, came whirling into the room, swinging frightful blades. He was followed by a black clad figure with wizened white hair and beard – his Sensei, I would imagine. 
Now I understand his refusal to cut his hair!
I recall a Halloween when I was probably 2 or 3 years old. My memory is boosted by the fact that Mom and Dad have pictures. I was a clown. I held my older sister’s hand all night for that sense of security you get from loved ones when you are scared out of your wits. Unfortunately, my sister was a witch, sporting a very ugly and scary rubber mask. Everytime I looked at her, I would cry. But I wouldn’t let go of her hand.
My mom and dad gave my older sister and I the gift of responsibility over our little sisters. I got to do stuff like cut their hair, sew them outfits…not your average run of the mill sibling responsibility tasks. And, of course, we got to design their costumes. I don’t remember them having too much say about it, either. I think the year of crowning glory in the costume department was the year we made my little sister Wendy be a jack-in-the-box. She was dressed appropriately like Jack, and had to pop out of a box. Of course she was 7-8, so it meant that Barbara and I had to heft around this great big box!
Having had the responsibility of costuming not only my sisters as they grew up, but also my own children, I am so happy to be able to enjoy Halloween without the added stress of “The Costume”! My daughter Alena has it easy…they make such great costumes these days, plus she can afford to buy them!! My all time favorite costume that she got for SP was the one when he was 15 days old.
Hope you all have a great spooky eve!
Every year, I travel to Anchorage in October to facilitate the Village Seminar for the Aleut Corporation. The meetings are usually held on Thursday and Friday in the 3rd week of October. If my Mom and Dad fly in early, I miss Dad’s birthday. If my sister, Diane, flys up from the lower 48, we celebrate their birthdays together. (That one doesn’t happen very often.) There has been one static for the past 7 years….I miss my grandson’s birthday.
I suppose having been in the room when he was born should count for many years of missed days. Especially when you take into account what my daughter told me to do to myself at 4:30 am, after she had been in labor for 37 hours! (She ended up laboring for 47 hours, I do believe. I have forgotten, although I am certain she has not.) And having him in my hotel room on his first birthday, stark naked on a sheet, indulging in a decadant chocolate first birthday cake (him, not me) counts also.
I feel extreme guilt when I see the picture of him on his second birthday…his mom was also in Anchorage that year, and SP was home with Grandpa. Caleb, the wonderman, put a candle in the shape of the number 2 on top of a box of animal crackers. That was SP’s birthday cake! He did let SP blow out the candle numerous times…something that they both were very excited about. I was really excited when Mom said we would have a second little party for him when we got home this year. Was I ever surprised to find out that, being the last one to fly in a mere 3 days after everyone else, they had the party for him 2 nights before I got home!! What the hell??
So, to break the silence of my blog, I want to wish my Dad, Sam, 83, my sister, Diane, 52, and my grandson, SP, 8, many, many years.
Unalaska From My Point of View 
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