Lights In The Darkness

There are certain Christmas Traditions that have depth ... they carry on years after they were first introduced. I'm one who embraces tradition. See, I'm Sentimental that way.

As a young girl, I remember fondly my father driving us around Valparaiso during the holidays to look at the lights and decorations. We'd take several outings throughout the season -- the longest one would take place Christmas Eve after church. All the houses were different. Unique. I liked it best when there was snow too. But the twinkling lights held a certain magic nonetheless.

There's a house near me. It's lit with blue lights and blue light icicles dangle from the roof top. It glows. My daughter asks me to drive by it whenever we are out at night. For some reason, that blue-lit house holds a special fascination for her. She remembers it every Christmas. She calls it "The Blue House."

There are many beautifully decorated homes and businesses near me. Not as many as some years, I'm sorry to say. But enough to enjoy a drive around town with your family to see them. It's low-cost entertainment.

Some people enjoy traveling to up I-75 to Rochester's Main Street to see the streams of colored lights. Others enjoy the elegance of Royal Oak's tree lined downtown decorated with ice blue lights and green balls. It's glorious to see when you're out in the evening.

But there is one house that I make it a point to never miss. My son and I discovered it for the first time a few years ago quite by accident. We were avoiding some construction and opted to drive down Lakeshore Drive in Grosse Pointe on our way home from a rehearsal. At the corner of Moross and Lakeshore is a very festively decorated home ... aglow with a quantity of lights in varying colors that come with an electric bill I certainly wouldn't want to pay. You can read a map sitting beside it!

It's not that house.

It's the next house. There's an expansive lot with a huge lawn. And this lawn is empty -- stark even -- but for one Tree. This tree in the front lawn reaches to the sky with long slender branches. And every single one of those branches is covered glowing white bulbs. Every single branch is lit as if painted with lights. I've never seen anything else like it. And then, to make it glow even brighter, a spotlight shines in it. It's stunning. It stops me in my path. I drove by it last night, turned around and drove past again.

My son and I might just have to take a trip over to try and photograph it. It's breathtaking.

It's amazing to think that a tree devoid of leaves during this particularly dark, dreary December can affect me so. It just goes to show that beauty and wonder can be found all around us when we take the time to open our hearts to it and clear our calendar to experience it. Even in the bleakest, busiest, craziest, most challenging moments there exists a source of Light mightier than the darkness. (Ties in quite nicely with the True Message of this Season, doesn't it?)  Yes, this tree is truly awe-inspiring. Out of the darkness, there is beauty. If only you take the time to see it.

So that's my Christmas Week message to you. Look at the lights. Take a drive by. Stop racing about and checking off your list and choose to find a few moments of wonder. Take time to gaze outside your window and away from your cell phone to encounter beauty in the darkness. No matter what is under your tree or going on in your life -- or the world around us -- there is Light mightier than the darkest night. It's worth your time. And it's magnificent.

My parents are visiting this Christmas. Think I'll take them out for a drive ...

              Merry Christmas to All ... God Bless Us Every One ... 
                                                              and to All A Good Night ... Jenni

Finding The Wonder

I awoke early Wednesday morning, as is my nature, with a little help from my cat. My daughter was asleep beside me -- she'd had a tummy ache and fell asleep with me. I glanced over to her with a smile. Now, you may think that cats have a singular nature and care little for human contact. But cats are just like us ... some like to be alone while others prefer company and the human touch ...

My cat meows to inform me it's "our time." She wants me to turn on the Christmas tree, fix my coffee and settle into my chair so she can climb on my lap and snuggle. There's no distraction. There's no one but us.

She's been a little more adamant this month about Snuggle Time. And, even after I fix her breakfast, she comes back for more. Settling into my lap and wrapping her tail around my arm. And when I brought my computer to my lap to begin this blog, she informed me that was just not acceptable. She sat beside me until I put it down then took her place, afterward climbing onto my footstool for additional caressing.

It's funny how she helps me settle down ... slow down ...

In this Festive time of the year ... that's what Charles Dickens called it in A Christmas Carol ... our focus is scattered. We have lists of things to do and concerts to attend and work to fit in and cookies to bake and projects to complete and wishes to grant. Distracted by the many things on our to do lists and to buy lists, there is a crazy element to driving ... frenetic even. It's scary out there.

As a kid, I don't remember "holiday stress." When did it happen? When did we lose the Joy and the Wonder?

I'm guilty of it. December hit me and brought a sense of Dread ... All these things to do, decorating to accomplish and shopping aka finding the perfect gift for everyone ... no pressure really. Amidst that, there were work events to plan and kids to schlep to their choir practices, piano lessons, swim practices and extra ballet sessions -- and don't get me started on the holiday concerts. I felt more stress and anxiety than Holiday Spirit.

At Christmas, I struggle with the lists. See I like to select that perfect gift for the people important to me. It's not a financial thing ... it's finding something that expresses a feeling or captures a shared passion or reminds me why we are close. And, once in a while I find it ... something I select because I know the person I'm buying for. And the look in their eyes as they unwrap that brightly colored package and see something that means something ... It's one of those moments MasterCard defines correctly as Priceless.

It's a crazy time of year, no matter what Dickens said. And the selfless reason and faith-based aspect of the season gets lost in holiday traffic more times than I care to admit. So Here's my Holiday Wish for you: Do something to find the Wonder ...

I found it recently. How? Well I decided in one of my more stressed-out moments that I needed to find One Moment of Joy & Wonder every single day. Just One. So, I've intentionally taken more time recently to spend with special friends and my parents -- on the phone or face to face as our locations allow. I found Joy laughing at The Muppet Christmas Carol and watching a family friend meet the challenge of a sour Margarita. I found Wonder spending time out on the town eating Mexican food and catching up. I saw Sparkle in the orange glistening on a glass of Blue Moon. I supported my inner child by signing up for a coloring class with another friend after the holidays.

There's a theme here. It's not in what I did but the Moments spent Connecting with people I care for.

I found Holiday Spirit listening to my daughter sing Winter Wonderland while she held my hand in the car. I found Joy & Wonder when my son and I struggled to make bracelets for his Secret Santa and then settled in to watch a Leverage Christmas episode. I found a Smile as my husband coached his Diving Team and cheered on our son's swimming -- and when he decorated the front of the house ... All the lights and evergreen roping. I found a Smile as I spoke with my friend in Chicago as selected an Angel Card for this time. And, I experience true Magic in the traditional trip to see Santa -- a few simple moments with my children while we enjoyed our Starbucks breakfast.

I find Joy catching up with my Family and Friends. I find Wonder presenting a specially selected gift and watching eyes light up in discovery. I find Magic in the look in my cat's eyes as she cuddles with me.

One of my dearest moments each year is crafting my Christmas Email with the photo from the Santa Trip. I just can't get cards done anymore ... but my Christmas Message is full of heart and love and appreciation ... And I think people get that ...

See the Magic of this time of year is not found rushing around. It's found in the simple and special times with People -- and Cats -- who give our life meaning, Joy ... and Wonder.

Merry Christmas to All ... God Bless Us Every One ...
                                                                                              -- Jenni 

Off The List: Goin' Rogue with Jessamy

Sorry Ron. I'm going rogue. I know this month the assigned Classic's Challenge reading was a Nobel Prize winner, and I truly was all geared up to read an O'Neill play. I started three, in fact. They just didn't grab me; yet I did intend to press on. But, then I thought and realized that I had read a Nobel winner a few months back (before the assignment was modified to Pulitzer Prize Winner.) And I did both finish that read and post a review. (Click here!) So I decided to choose my own classic this month ... a Jenni Winner. One I would give a prize to, if I could.

As a girl growing in Valparaiso, Indiana, I spent a lot of time at the local library. It was originally a two story yellow-brick building, which expanded as years went on. The upstairs was for adults and the downstairs for children of all ages. I loved the cha-ching sound of the Library Card Machine as it was inserted with a paper card to log the books you took out, leaving that stamp with the due date on the card when was placed in a pocket in the front of the book ... Remember those?

I fondly recall the children's floor. I visited it often and read every single Oz book. I can see them on the stacks even now. I found and checked out every Nancy Drew book available in the 1970s too.

But there was a book I discovered quite by accident when I was 10 years old. It was called Jessamy and written by Barbara Sleigh. And as it was published in 1966, I lovingly bestow is with a "Classic Rating." It may not have earned a Nobel Prize, but since it influenced me and my passion for reading so heavily, I'd give it a nod!

Jessamy is the story of a young orphaned girl shuttled between aunts. But, the summer-time aunt has two children with whooping cough, so she is sequestered away with a friend of the aunt's who is the caretaker of an old house called Posset Place. Jessamy, being a curious but solitary girl, explores the house -- discovering a schoolroom with marks in the cupboard (aka closet). These marks denote the height of all the children in the family who once resided there in 1914. The names and the marks include her own!

This discovery ends up being a time-traveling mechanism, a journey opening the door to family, friendship and mystery.

I read this book many times as a kid. I remember taking it out from the library over and over. I even remember deciding that one day I would name my daughter Jessamy. Well, over time, I forgot all about it ... til my daughter (not named Jessamy by the way) turned 10 and my thoughts turned to this book.

That said, I decided she should read it too! I followed my own footsteps and went to the Royal Oak Public Library. The card catalogs may have changed, but I figured I could find it.

No luck.

Okay, so I would just go to the bookstore and get a copy for her. Couldn't find it at Barnes & Noble. Then, I went on-line to Amazon.com. The discovery was shocking. Oh, I could order it from there ... but at a cost of between $775 - $1000. See, Jessamy had gone out of print.

I was devastated. This book that captured my imagination, shaped my reading direction and led me to the idea of time travel -- an idea Diana Gabaldon continues to foster with her Outlander series -- was not available to my daughter or me any more.

I went to Google and typed frantically, seeking that perfect Christmas present for my daughter. It had to be somewhere! It was then I discovered a heart-warming thing. Jessamy wasn't just a special book to me. It was special to many young girls ... now moms and grown-ups with daughters of their own. The number of comments on Goodreads from women who had read this book and then sought this book on eBay, only to lose it in bidding wars for hundreds of dollars, was fascinating. It was genuinely beautiful to see how a book can touch so many imaginations and hearts ... to see all these people who were drawn to a book that I loved so much.

Angels must have been on my side, though. At one point, I typed in Jessamy and there, amongst the images, was a lovely pink dress. Distracted for a moment.I clicked on the image and somehow -- I can't honestly say exactly how -- it took me to an Etsy Shop where a woman clothing designer from Hawaii had posted a hardcover copy of Jessamy at the "affordable" (well affordable when you consider the current going rate at Amazon.com) of $50. It was a discarded book from the local elementary school. And, after one week in transit, this hardcover copy is now sitting safely on my reading table.

A Classic Book holds up over time. And as I turned the final page this morning to complete this re-read, I had tears in my eyes. It's a beautiful story ... and it's about more than time travel. It's about a journey to self-acceptance, friendship, family, and choosing to live and find joy around every corner.

So, Ron, I hope you will give me credit for O'Neill's Mourning Becomes Electra -- which I read and wrote a Term Paper on my senior year at Albion College, Hemingway's To Have and Have Not  --which I read this spring, and Sartre's Les Jeux Sont Fait which I read in the original French in college.

I'm sorry more young girls won't have a chance to read Jessamy. But my daughter will. It may not be a Nobel Prize winner, but it's a Prize to me. A prize winner that will be part of my family Forever, sparking imaginations on and on ... for generations to come ...
                                                                                                                   -- Jenni

Shine Your Light

Paris is bleeding and my heart is broken.

The beautiful City of Lights is darkened today by tragedy and destructive acts of violence. By black hatred.

There is nowhere on this planet that I have dreamed of more often than Paris ... its sites beckon me. I so long to walk by the Seine, browse the beauty of the Louvre, and sit in a street cafe to watch the artists of Montmatre near that place in Paris most dear to me ... Sacre Coeur. A poster of this white church once held a place of honor in my childhood bedroom.

But today, as I awoke to tales of horror and hate, the beauty of my dream is stained. And my spirit cries out against the senselessness and the cowardly actions of individuals bent on destruction.

When did violence become the answer? When did cruelty become the choice to influence change? And when did killing become an acceptable action to place upon a "to do list"?

There is so much hate surrounding us ... so much intolerance and self-righteousness. So much finger-pointing and condemnation of differences. I am crying as I type and think of parents who have lost children ... and children who must push on without parents. Of the loss of lives in a war of hate that no one is winning. I think of a nation devastated by the echo of bombs and gunshots and wonder what we have come to that this has become so commonplace.

I don't understand. Oh, I realize I am naive. But Please ... someone tell me how we've allowed our difference to become loathing, treatable only by acts of violence and suicide bombers. When did Peace and Cooperation fall victim ... and how did we allow that to happen? What do organizations like ISIS want to create? Or do they seek only to destroy? What do they want us to hear? How did they get to a place where cruelty is mistaken as the only way to create change? Why do they choose Hate?

I don't face such extreme violence. I don't hold onto that kind of Hate. But, I do struggle with the affects of Hatred and Unkindness, like everyone else I'm sure. Mind, the violence I face doesn't compare to what happend on the streets of Paris -- it exists more on an emotional level -- yet it affects me nonetheless. Disdain, dismissiveness or perceived unkindness from others has its affects on my spirit. A thoughtless act or word that that resulted in a breakdown in a relationship or something even worse. I struggle with difficult moments and people who have perhaps blasted holes in my heart. They had their reasons. Their agenda. But my response is a choice. Do I return cruelty for cruelty? Hate for Hate? Am I unkind when someone is unkind to me? Am I self-righteous? And what is the result of my actions?

The other morning as I read my Daily Bread Bible lesson, the writer discussed dealing with difficult people. We all have them ... the people we just don't gel with or the people who we've had a falling out with. People who dislike us because we may have wronged them at one time, unintentionally even. People who we don't see eye to eye with and may never find common ground.

How do we choose to deal with such individuals? With violence and cruelty? By avoiding eye contact and steering clear? By gossip or bullets? By bombs and bloodshed?

After reading this message the other day, I decided to take a different route with someone with whom I've had "issues." I've decided that silence and avoidance are not what I want. That differences are just that and not everyone may be my best friend but I can choose kindness.

See there is beauty in even the most difficult person if we can get past our own issues to discover it. The painful energy they are giving out may be reflective of some deeper pain they are feeling. Perhaps it is something they are struggling with ... a demon of their own which we know nothing about.

Romans 12:18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

So, after months of silence, I spoke. I initiated contact. I reached out. Twice. I planted the seeds. And, I moved past the past, feeling lighter as the healing energy surged through my spirit. I chose to shine my light instead of hide it under a bushel ... I chose to make peace instead of flame the fire of separation.

Perhaps the play I'm in right now influenced me. For my character personally, it's about forgiveness. Not forgiveness of others, but forgiveness and acceptance of my own self for all my limitations and losses. For me, it's about reaching out and accepting the light and love of others. It's about renewal. It's about discovering that who I am and what I offer is enough ... and beautiful in and of itself. And it's about Shining My Light for others and offering them the same opportunity.

Self-Love. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Wait, that's what I need too. I have much in common with my character of Rose ... 

We spend so much time in the Darkness, judging ourselves and others. Condemning and complaining. Firing bullets -- literal and figurative -- at others to deflate them and lesson them in our eyes. To make us bigger and them smaller. To break them down so we can rise higher.

Today, I shine my light toward Paris. Toward those broken who have chosen hate and those victims of that hate. And I shine my light toward those who may have once hurt me ... or whom I may have inadvertently or even intentionally once hurt. 

My heart bleeds for Paris and all those who have lost in this sea of dark violence shadowing our planet. I pray for peace. I pray we can find a way past this hatred. I pray we can find a way to shine our lights, different as they may be, to create beauty instead of hate.

And I pray that Paris can find its light again ... 

                                                                                                      -- Jenni

Take The Time Today

Today, I am baking an apple pie. It's 1:07pm -- as I begin this post -- and I have already snuggled with my cat, caught up with my son, stripped beds of sheets, done two loads of laundry, purchased necessary items for that same son at the local CVS, swept my kitchen floor and attended two funerals.

It's the last one that made the decision of what I'm doing this afternoon. It's the last one on that "done" list that inspired me to bake a pie.

I'm still wearing my dressy clothes as I type -- my Angel open heart necklace, skirt, tights, heels and dressy blouse. I swept the hard-wood floor and launched the second load of laundry in my dressy church clothes. Feel a bit like Donna Reed.

To tell the truth, I've already had a challenging week and I will admit to some weariness. I'm in a play. We have had a busy tech week. I wear two hair pieces, spend over an hour getting them on and my head is sore. Whereas some may choose to spend the weekend after such hecticness lounging in front of the TV, I am baking a pie. Or, I will be once I finish this post.

Today I said goodbye and honored the life of a lovely soul who lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. But before that, I attended a funeral on the other side of town to support a coworker who lost her father. And on Monday, I will bid farewell to a theatre friend -- one who actually once gave me the opportunity to direct him in what turned out to be the last musical he performed at my local community theatre -- who also lost a battle to cancer. I am sad at the loss of so many beautiful spirits ... and hopeful they have a place on the stage, at the card table, or in the choir in a heavenly realm in their new shiny, transformed state.

Life happens. We get busy. Our priorities shift from caring about the people around us to "getting stuff done." We allow ourselves to feel hassled. We shut down and shut out.

Today as I sat in the church next to a very dear and very important friend of mine, I found perspective. I was truly blessed as I listened to a song my friend Conny recorded that she wanted shared in her Celebration of Life ... it was her taking the time to say Thank You to the people important to her. What am amazing message. See none of us knows how much time we are allowed on this planet. So we should make the most of it ... and we should remind the people who are important to us that they hold a place of honor in our hearts.

We should tell the people we enjoy spending time with how much we enjoy them ... whether our time together is limited or lengthy. We should make time for the "important" things, and let the rest go.

So, amidst the rushing, I have taken more time lately to bake cookies and snacks for my kids. I even made a great sacrifice and spent a couple hours last week catching up with a friend I hadn't had time to get together with in a month. I graciously helped her 'break in'  her new hot tub.

I messaged a friend who lives far away.

I made time to get dinner or a drink with friends who are important to me ... amidst our crazy schedules.

I have straightened my kids rooms and dressed my daughter's dolls up simply to see the resulting smiles -- and enjoyed doing it too.

And now, with this post, I speak words I don't always take the time to express. In case you don't know this ...

You are important to me.

And because I care and I don't know how much time I have to make a difference on this planet, I will reach out. I will send light. I will care for those who are important to me with unconditional acceptance and no expectations.

Whether we are gathered around the dinner table or have an evening once a week to lounge and watch TV or grab lunch in between yoga and picking up kids or take a few minutes over a cup of tea to talk politics or get a beer at the bar ... each moment was important to me because you -- the people I spent those times with -- are vital to me ...

You bring sunshine and joy to my heart. You challenge my thinking. You help me grow. You teach me things and give me more than I can ever express ...

Whether we took a walk and laughed or chatted on the phone across the miles or shared stories over knitting needles or took a drive ... I enjoyed the moments we shared. Whether you gave me a Valentine or took dance classes with me or performed with me in a show ... You gave me something in that moment. And you continue to give meaning to my life. Thank YOU for taking time to share with me.

When I was in fourth grade, my best friend Sheila Stratton and I listened to a 45 called Thank You For Being A Friend ... It was sung by Andrew Gold. Some of you may remember it ...

Thank you for being a friend

Traveled down the road and back again

your heart is true you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not aschamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow...

Oh there's more to it. I'm sure iTunes has the song, if you're curious. But for now, I just want to thank you for the moments -- large, small, intense, passionate, quiet, simple, theatrical, etc. Thank you for making time for me. Thank you for choosing to spend your busy days or evenings with me. Thank you for your text of encouragement or the call just to say hello. Thank you for the Angel Card. Thank you for dinner and listening ... thank you for sharing.

You give meaning to my life ... you are special ... I enjoy you and whatever time we get ... I treasure you and our times together.

Now ... I need to go and bake that pie ...

                                                                                                -- Jenni

Share The Road!

I reside in a small-big town in the Midwest. Small enough to run into people you know at the grocery store or walking down the street. But large enough to boast at least 4 McDonald's and a few places you can blend in and disappear to when you want some quiet anonymity.

Recently my small-big town added bike lanes to its streets. They are highly confusing things believe me.

Sometimes there is a line with a symbol beside it.

At first I mistakenly thought the lane "lined off" was the bike lane. Silly me. Here I am riding along merrily in my own little world, protected from those mean old cars ... until I nearly ran into a parked car. Oops.

Point of Order: Why do you need a line if the symbol already indicates that a bike should be riding on the right hand side of the road. Don't bikers ALWAYS ride on the right hand side anyway and don't bikers know to avoid parked cars?

Other times there are two  lines with a slightly different symbol inside it. In these instances, I now understand a bike is to be ridden within the confines of those two parallel lines. And now a once two lane road is classified as a one lane car road and one lane bike road.

Point of Order: If there is no bike in that lane, can a car drive in it? Can I pass on the right? And what happens when I need to turn? Do I turn from the outer lane? Isn't that a no no?

Hence ... the confusion.

Along with the paint job came numerous signs warning bikers to stay off the sidewalks in the downtown area. They site the City Code. Isn't that friendly? But I get it. I understand the "why." Some busy shopper is walking out of a store and a bike slams into them, the rider oblivious with earbuds blaring music from their iPhone into their heads. Perhaps some innocent diner with a carry-out box gets lambasted by a racing bike. Ouch! Or someone scrolling through their contact list to send a text and not paying attention is greeted by screeching bike wheels.

I understand the why ... it just all seems extreme and unnecessary and government getting involved in what SHOULD be common sense.

Yeah, I said it. "Should."

Sigh.

Bikes and Cars have ridden on streets together for years. We have somehow managed to share the road. Oh there are instances of accidents. People can be careless. People can make mistakes. People can make bad decisions. But, we survived without the lines.

People and bikers have navigated sidewalks together too. Bikes have ridden down sidewalks to avoid the traffic and the drivers backing out of parking spaces. Drivers chatting on cell phones or just not looking behind them very well. I mean, backing out of parking spaces is hazardous enough without tossing a bike into the mix ...

But that's what we've done now. The bike lane downtown resides right behind those parked cars ,,,

My small-big town has invested quite a bit of cash into these painted white lines, symbols and signs. I honor and respect the leaders of this small-big town. I consider more than one of these leaders to be a good friend of mine. And I truly believe these leaders get up each day and work for the betterment of my small-big town. I believe and honor their efforts and good intentions.

But bike lanes and signs make me sad. They tell me that signs were needed because people don't know how to share ... how to pay attention and look out for others ... how to look beyond their dashboard -- or bike helmet -- and SEE.

For some, the lessons of Sharing taught in Kindergarten didn't stick. As drivers and bikers need special lanes and signs, other people need expensive and often ugly signs by the side of the road to tell them DO NOT LITTER. (Obviously the people who litter can't read since there is a lot of litter by the side of the road.)  There are even people who make special rules to not use the main staircase or instruct the people using their space to take a back entrance (to feel control maybe?) and maintain the integrity of a facility they manage. They need to separate instead of integrate. For some reason, power and separation have meaning to them.

I wonder how these people did on the playground ... did they share the sandbox? Or did they divide and make rules to put others in a different place.

I am sorry we need painted bike lanes, signs and special rules to tell people to be considerate of others. I am sorry people feel a need to separate or hold themselves higher than others and thus make people around them feel small. I'm sorry we can't all play in the same sandbox and appreciate the uniqueness of each other ... and honor and celebrate the fact that we aren't all the same. I'm sorry that we didn't all learn the value and joy of true sharing.

Too bad there are people out there who didn't read Robert Fulgrum's All I Needed To Know I Learned in Kindergarten. It's not too late ...

Because if they did ... and they truly understood and embraced the message in that poem, we could spend our small-big town money on park care or improvement or road repairs or other welcoming, friendly small-big town stuff. We could enjoy the main staircase and have fun together instead of feeling misunderstood or hostile or frustrated. We could play in the sandbox together and just enjoy the toys.

But we have bike lanes ... Just what does that say?                                                                                                                                                                                 -- Jenni

Something Wicked This Way Comes ... A Fall Treat

I love fall. I love crispy fall leaves beneath my booted feet as I take walks in the brisk fall air. I love the scents surrounding me and the taste of cinnamon donuts and cider. I love fall colors and clothes ... and the azure shade of a sky littered with heather-painted clouds.

The other day, as I sauntered happily down the sidewalk Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte in hand, I took a deep breath. There is something mystical and enticing about this season. Perhaps it is the mysterious way the leaves transform and wave so soundlessly, caressing the sky in the breeze as though someone directed them to do so. Perhaps it comes with the cool mornings, warm afternoons and crisp nights. In the fall, I find myself waiting for something ... catching my breath as I anticipate some unknown change or arrival.

Perhaps that is the way Ray Bradbury felt when he wrote Something Wicked This Way Comes. Yes, Sara, you were right! You CAN "smell" October when you open this book. The first line captures you and promises you a unique adventure ...

"The seller of lightning rods arrived just before the storm ..." Wow.

I approached Ron's most recent Classic Challenge to read a Sci-Fi/Fantasy classic with a referral from a friend (Thanks Sara) and I'm so glad I did. What a treat.

Something Wicked This Way Comes not only brings fall alive but features an evocative traveling carnival as well ... one with all the runway "freak-shows" of the classic carnival of old. Talk about capturing my attention. I have always been fascinated by carnivals and their side-shows. What child doesn't recall fondly a trip to a colorful, tent laden midway ... mystical, magical, exciting moments of memory.

Something Wicked drew me in with a tone reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier-style gothic fiction blended with well-crafted characters and a carnival troupe ... a macabre and scary troupe that is more than slightly unpredictable. It is a troupe with supernatural power ... a troupe with a magic Carousel.

This is Ray Bradbury at his best. Sadly, I don't recall reading anything by him previously so this was an exciting adventure. This book is stylized with a mystical quality, at times the evocative descriptions are a bit rambling but they serve a purpose. They are deliberate. Thus, the sometimes meandering descriptions are riddled with metaphor and allusion ... beckoning you deeper into the carnival experience .... inviting you to explore the dark corners of your own life and imagination and even darker possibilities.

The story integrates themes popular even today ... coming of age and the regrets of life unfulfilled are balanced precariously with the perils of getting what you wish for. Deeply sinister carnival owners seek to entice two nearly 14 year old boys on the cusp of adulthood and a woman feeling old and left behind. The invitation beckons to us all ... Ride the merry go round and shave a year or two off your life any time you want. Or add a year or two ... It's an attractive invitation difficult to resist. It's evil to the very core though. And as the true hero of this novel states: "Evil has only the power that we give it."

I understand Bradbury was influenced to write this tale based on his own "hysterical spin" on a merry-go-round when he was four years old. He shrieked and screamed until the operator stopped the ride to "let him free." Not long after that he saw Lon Chaney in the film Laugh, Clown, Laugh, encountering the darker tones that lurk behind a clown's painted face.

Then at age 12, Bradbury met Mr. Electrico on the carnival grounds, Mr. Electrico introduced him to all the carnival freaks that Labor Day weekend in 1932, even recalling a past life moment the two had shared at the battle of the Ardennes Forest outside Paris where Bradbury had actually died in his arms.

Bradbury himself said that was a turning point in his life, stating that "something amazing had struck him with electric fire and changed him forever." Within eight weeks, he began to write ... He wrote every day after that, for the next 65 years.

I have never been a big fan of horror films or books. I have nightmares about clowns ... perhaps due to Poltergeist and It, which I saw as a teenager. But, I have to admit a fascination with the darkness and macabre nature of these old carnivals. Something Wicked This Way Comes evoked the feelings I experienced reading Erin Morgenstern's Night Circus a few years ago. That book was an otherwordly reading experience too ... I couldn't put it down.

Something about Sideshows intrigues me ... beckons me ... entices me. And something about fall and carnivals excites me. You hear the screams on the rides, you smell the caramel apples and popcorn, yet you only glimpse a tiny bit of what is truly before you. It's magical. It teases ... and it draws you back again and again with the promise of something you cannot yet explain.

I think I will read this book every fall with a cup of hot cider in my hands  ... and wait to see what happens. Because Something is coming ... I sense it ...
                                                                                                      -- Jenni