Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Happy Birthday.

the author as hunchback, c. 1973

It is just past midnight as I type this.
Here in the old pub, I've lit my creepy wall sconces, my candelabra, put the lights up on my monster display, and am listening to Lights Out on my Sirius XM receiver.
You'd think, then, that this was just another night in my domain.
But I note that as of midnight I have added some 36 or 37 years worth of life to the little kid pictured above.
At 41 I am not complaining.
I also must note that the above photo wasn't taken on Hallowe'en, or even in the month of October. It's just what I did, all the freaking time, growing up (or not growing up, as it turns out). If I needed to be Quasimodo, I would; if Quasimodo had to wear a Snoopy sweatshirt, so be it.
Monsters, horror and the unstoppable Hallowe'en are a MASSIVE aspect of my life defined. That much should be obvious to anyone visiting the Skull & Pumpkin.
I believe one of my first recognizable phrases to Mom and Dad was "Ooooh, montah gunna getchoo!", and I know that some of my earliest birthday memories include Aurora monster models, spooky books/magazines, monster jigglers and action figures, and similarly wondrous scary stuff.
It's just what I did.
I thank my folks for giving me life, the ultimate unreturnable gift. But more than that:
Thanks Pop, for letting me be one of the kids who routinely made you shake your head and wonder "what in hootin' hell" is wrong with that one. For not discouraging me from being who I was, but encouraging me to be more truly who I wanted to be.
Thanks Mom, for simply being Mom. Every little (and not so little) gift, every special extra moment you found for me among the million special moments a day you found for everyone else in our lives; for not only letting me indulge in my spooky passions but for being a champion of them.
And thanks to both of you for never taking my monsters away even when I was calling for you to come sweep them out from under the bed at 2 am... every night... for a long time.

Aye, let's raise a glass.

41's a pretty fine thing, not least for being relatively indistinguishable from 40, 35 or even 25 when you really cut it into slices to count the rings.


Spook on-


  1. Happy Birthday my friend.

    And Here's to many more!

    All the best,

    Fester (dave)

  2. Happy Birthday to a fellow resident of the October Country, where one never grows old.


  3. Thanks guys, I really appreciate it. Had a fine day and night, and being able to end the day with a good dose of UMA, Hallowe'en and the kind wishes of like-minded monster kids is a real treat!

  4. I think you may have to mention that Mom never wavered when asked to cobble together a costume, ruin her good eyeliner on a scar or Frankenstein stitch, or cut up a decent sheet to make the proper robe, mummy or background. And Dad never said NO MORE, but looked the other way when we painted our bedroom with dungeon walls, had 20 kids over to work on projects, and occasionally donned a mask to join us. We were blessed with imaginative, creative (and, dare I say, SPARKY) parents.