You is Fearless

Miss Cherry can remember, oh so distinctly, being sent out into the hall for talking. It was the First Grade…supposed to be learning something, supposed to be thinking about self-control…and there she sat, happy as a lark…visiting with the kids and teachers who walked by. They’d stop…have a nice conversation…laugh…then, walk away. “Aren’t you supposed to be in trouble?”

Eventually, Cherry’s First Grade Teacher would come out and say…” What is the point of sitting you out in the hall, if you are going to talk out here? Go to the Principal’s office.”  So, Little Miss Cherry would go to the Principal’s office, and she’d talk there. They would give her treats, have her sit in the corner… give her some kind of work to do. Try to act all stern and discipline-ish. That wouldn’t last long.

They hugged on her, smiled at her…and told her…” You know, your Teacher really likes you, you’re not bad but when you talk during class, it makes it hard for her to teach.”  A light bulb went off. It wasn’t that the teacher didn’t want her to visit with her friends, or contribute to the class…she needed Cherry to reign it in…and save it for recess and P.E. The school secretary…who was Cherry’s new best friend…told her…” Your teacher needs you to be a good little girl so she can teach all of the other kids. You are helping your teacher when you talk at the appropriate times.”


That changed the world. Now, Cherry could help her teachers and be good. And although she had some socializing to do…there would be plenty of opportunity at the “appropriate” times. This idea became more of a guideline and not a hard fast rule. It was a study in setting limits for a kid who didn’t believe that limits existed. Limits didn't fit into her view of the world.  After all, Cherry was a little social butterfly.

Up to this point…Cherry’s parents lived in fear that she’d just disappear one day, as she never met a stranger. Matter of fact, Cherry had absolutely zero fear as a kid. The only thing that stopped her dead in her tracks was the Devil. Apparently, he didn’t like nice little Christian girls – and was going to get her if she didn’t watch out. So – here was the quandary through the eyes and mind of a First Grader.  "


If I’m too good of a little girl, the Devil will get me. Bad, bad – scary bad things will happen because you are good, never sin and love Jesus."


Thank you, Fundamental Baptist Church and their children's program. Anyway...


"If I’m not perfectly good all of the time, I’m a bad little girl who is sinning and Jesus won’t be happy."


And, since Cherry had seen that picture of Jesus living in her heart, waiting each day to come by and say hello, be good and not sin…she was torn.


So, each day she’d say 'Hello' to Jesus. Talk to him on the walk to school. Visit. Socialize. People would walk up and say…” Who are you talking to, Cherry?” …and she'd tell them…


” Well, Jesus lives in my heart…and it makes him sad when I forget to tell him 'Hi' every day. So, I’m talking to Jesus. He’s great. He talks back.”


And, so began the struggle of being good, semi-good, perfect, bad, semi-bad…whatever. I’d talk to Jesus every day, because he was hanging out in her heart, they’d socialize…everyone was happy.


Anyway, to round out the story…this was the pattern. Each year, year over year…Cherry would have a teacher or teachers, coaches, principals who fed her creativity, independence and fearless nature. They wouldn’t punish her for being the way she was…they would actually help her express, expand and evolve her talents and skills. She’d walk around talking to Jesus, trying to be good.


And then, she would have the opposite…with the teachers, coaches who would punish, shame, mock and be hateful. And when she wasn’t good or perfect…she would wrestle with how to tell Jesus – as if he didn’t already know. Cherry felt disrespectful, silly, awkward.


Things didn’t always line up. She was either punished or rewarded for who she was and what she accomplished, depending on the source. Cherry was shown her school record going back to the First Grade. It was covered in the following comments…


” Sweet girl, talks a lot."
“Talks, disrupts and needs to focus.”
“Social, talks a lot, kind”
“Talks and doesn’t follow the class rules.”
“Always smiling, needs direction, contributor”
“Thinks she owns the school”
“Funny and fearless.”


Looking back…Cherry did think she owned the school. It was her happy place. She loved being there with her friends, loved her teachers, loved her coaches…loved the library…loved the administrators (especially her stellar line up of Principals who encouraged her to be fearless with Orange Crush, candy and tasks in the office when she was sent there to sit – Mr. Bradham, Mr. Hillman, etc.)


Cherry thought that school was the perfect place. It was what happened after she had breakfast and walked to school – oftentimes, stopping to visit with all of her favorite neighbors along the way, as Cherry was a true morning kid. Then, when she arrived at school…there were activities before class…and they were fun. Learning stuff. Hanging with friends. Art class.


Recess was amazing. P.E. – wouldn’t miss it for anything.


Followed by after school activities – which usually were sports, cheerleading, Camp Fire Girls, walking home with friends…church stuff...you name it. Being a kid as she knew it.


"Fearless"


Let’s talk about what being fearless means today.


Companies will hire Cherry because she can walk into a room and not meet a stranger. She likes all kind of people. They will hire her because she is smart, well rounded, hard-working, a team player and a leader. All of these skills honed from birth on…with socialization, imagination, creativity, fearlessness…allow her to have a seat at the table.


It means that out of a lifetime of learning comes that there are people who are fear based, and people who aren’t. People who say what they think, and people who don’t. People who color outside of the lines of their life with the big box of crayons with the cool sharpener, and people who worry about what other people think about their choice of one crayon. And, everyone has their reasons and framework.


It’s a big world out there…and it runs on balance. People are people are people. Plenty of room for the smorgasbord of opinions, cultures, and approaches to life. One person’s talent and gifts are another person’s worst fears. You terrify them.


One person’s talent and gifts are another person’s inspiration. You help them.


One person’s talents and gifts are par for course for another. You can run at their speed.


For another moment, another day, another year, another decade...the world spins around on it’s axis.


Miss Cherry learned that being fearless was her nature from birth, and a gift. That we have all of these talents and gifts rolled into our DNA, ready to be unleashed on the general public for a purpose.


But, what she remembers most about her elementary school folder was that fearless was written in red.


And, red is her favorite color.

Accidental Realism by Way of Proxy

Miss Cherry believes that the more you get out into the world and have those difficult conversations, the more the world makes sense. It’s like watching rose colored glasses come into style early in your youth, and then learning that it was a manufacturing problem which resulted in a class action suit. You know, the one time someone was cleaning up near the machine that put drops of tint into the assembly – and you got that one batch with too much pink in the lens. And that pink interacts with some weird part of your eyes that you never knew about – and your world, as you know it, mysteriously is skewed.

Makes Cherry think about the movie…”The Jerk.” And that maybe she was little like Steve Martin who grew up thinking he was a lucky black kid of a sharecropper family who held different “jobs” and then, magically became a millionaire who invented a handle for glasses named it the Optigrab which made people cross-eyed. Yada Yada Yada. Bernadette Peters. One day he grows up. He keeps the lamp and the ashtray, and resets his view of the world.

It’s those conversations when you realize that the reality you used to frame up the world was just a little bit off from the actual.

You didn’t understand why someone just dropped off the radar as you entered high school. And then you find out, they were living in a 500 s.f. abandoned shack on a piece of property, illegally, with 10 people – and were trying to go to school and be a normal kid. But, reality and survival stepped in and they dropped out to support their family and help put a roof over the head of their brothers and sisters, food in the belly, and all of this without electricity or running water. I’m sorry – I can’t play football anymore – or go to the dance – or have a girlfriend – or let anyone know about my life. That’s all good and fine for you, but I need to help my family survive. Literally. Now I’m an investment banker with the girl who loved me from childhood on, and we have a wonderful life and family.

Or you find out that someone’s Dad went to prison – and your friend had to drop out to lie about his age to drive a semi, to support his family.

Or you find out that someone’s parents died, one and then the other…horribly…and they were on their own from the 9^th grade on. Survived, did it all alone. Graduated early. And made it. Intelligent, wicked humor, amazing…it’s her truth.

Or you find out that the family skeletons are kinda freaky in your family, your friend’s families, and so on and so forth. But at this age, who cares. It is what it is. Blood. You could write about it and make a million off of the reality of the freakiness. And, it would be a great read.

Conversations.

Of course, they happen when you are all grown up, and have framed the world through the years. And then, the rose colored glasses come off…and reality hits you smack in the face. Miss Cherry likens it to a mixture of amazing Technicolor, with weird, obvious realities mixed back into the shadows. It’s a pretty, amazing picture in your head – with the essence of Tarantino splattered everywhere.

You realize that inside every person is the dark and the light. The good and the bad. You realize that life was an early struggle for some, and a later struggle for others. You have the difficult conversations that you don’t walk away from feeling all relevant and peachy. They change you, make you honest about the realities of your life. Your strengths and challenges. The colors deepen. Memories are reframed with truth. It's done.

You take off the glasses, and realize…I have actually earned my space in this world. The Technicolor is beautiful, the colors are amazing, and there’s an alligator chasing me somewhere in Florida because I went into a lake with a cardboard box singing “Yellow Submarine”

Made sense at the time.

Life.

Miss Cherry, Atomic Bombs, and a Coconut Cream Pie

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But, as that 86-year-old Iron Nun said in my now favorite Nike ad…” Unlimited Youth” …” There are a lot of times when I had to think about failures and not reaching the goals I may have set for myself,” Buder said in a Nike video, “Then I realized the only failure is not to try because your effort in itself is a success.” A nun. A devoted, God fearing, God loving badass nun triathlete. She gets it.

Hard wiring.

That moment in an action film where the bomb squad is called in to disarm a nuclear bomb – let’s make it…

…set in the middle of Gotham…which will destroy mankind – or Gotham – which is – in DC Comics world - so key to mankind…

…let’s try this again…

Batman is in some deep dark hole with his back broken. The Wayne Mansion is toast, which freaks me out. Like when they blew up that absolutely amazing house in one of the Bourne movies – the one that the scientist was restoring. The three story with the fabulous staircase - hand hewn probably sometime in the 1800’s. But, now she can’t, because some assholes shot it up and then it was blown up as a cover for a getaway. Men. As if they couldn’t have just gone out the back door. That kind of crap keeps me up at night.

Anyway, the Wayne fortune is gone. The Batman beam thing is broken. The Bat phone is in a museum somewhere because it’s a rotary.

And, the bomb isn’t digital.

Yes, I know…just work with me here. It ISN’T smart. It can’t call an Uber for you – or track your moods like a mood ring.

It’s one of those crazy, thousands of wires, all of the colors of the rainbow…hard wired bombs. You open that compartment with mere minutes…seconds…to disarm…which in my mind…looks like a cartoon atomic bomb.

Wait. Let’s switch it up here.

Bugs Bunny has climbed into the door of an atomic bomb with his carrots…it says “Acme” on the side…because it is really there for the Roadrunner.

Anyway, Bugs Bunny is holding a pair of scissors, trimming his whiskers, cutting out snowflakes, singing and eating a carrot… “When the swallows come back to Capistrano, la da dee de dah de dah,” vicariously next to the red wire that says…” DON’T CUT…BIG BOOM!!!” …there is a knock on the bomb door…and in comes Batman

Bugs says…” Yes, may I help you?” as he has been cartoon slicing up vegetables – scissors and knives cutting stuff everywhere – all of it going into the pot. He then throws in a kitchen sink.

“I’m Batman””

So, of course, Bugs hands him a perfectly executed paper snowflake, tells him, “You should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque,” and shuts the door.

Batman is all serious. Knocks again. He is there for the bomb. The good people of Gotham must be saved.

“What’s up, Doc?” …Bugs asks, chewing on his carrot and cutting wires for dental floss.

Fast forward…it’s Looney Tunes meets DC Comics – so, Bugs is floating on a cloud playing a harp…swimming in the air…backstroking…sees St. Peter…heads on over to jack with him

Batman is pissed. I mean, what the Hell just happened.? No pun intended. Batman was there to avert disaster.

Which kind of sums it up how we work. Hardwiring. The two sides of our ego. Popping up out of a toaster, either under cooked or burned to a crisp. Yen to our Yang.

One that says…all is good, all is great, I am unaware. Autopilot. Rolling from one thing to the next. The other who is a serious badass, completely aware, there to input some serious sense into our reality. Knows better, expects better, knows what needs to happen, when it needs to happen and how to succeed.

When you open up that psyche of yours, and look around at all of the crazy wiring…there are trip wires, connectors, necessary and unnecessary…the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Miss Cherry knows there’s a bowl of spaghetti inside her noggin. Knows there is hard wiring which makes her a badass in so many amazing ways. Talent, personality, intelligence, heart…spirit…that special something. Knows that there are some wires buried deep that send off a signal at the wrong times. Sends off that ego which is there to strike fear in her heart, set up the caution tape, inject doubt. Sometimes things get framed up as a combination of both. Dark, dark humor and the ability to express it so well. Sometimes with perfect execution…sometimes not so much.

Aren’t we all this way?

And, when we ask our egos…” Why did you hit me in the face with a coconut cream pie?”

It will answer…” Because you were trying, you will succeed and you like cream pie.”

Wear that mess across your face like a badge of honor.

Rinse and repeat…” It’s my ego, I’ve chosen to embrace it and I’m going to take that left at Albuquerque. I’m Batman. “

And, maybe someday Nike will create an ad about you. You are amazing.

That’s all Folks.

Resolutions...and Other Things That Go Bump in the Night

Caffeine. It can make Miss Cherry look at the world in such a way, that it boggles the minds of those around her. One single cup, and it's off to the races. Fingers flying over a keyboard, things being cleaned, drawers organized, music blasting, dancing through the house, laundry done by 7 am...caffeine. Let's just say, Miss Cherry is a morning person.

Being a morning person means you can't text or call your friends until 8 am. Or as Margarita Rita once told Cherry..."If you text or call me again...one more time...before 9 am...I'm going to get one of my guns, come over there, and shoot you. Do you hear me? Just one more time, Cherry, and you're done. I know we have been friends since Junior High, but if you wake me up one more time...boom!"

And, everytime Miss Cherry is tempted...everytime her finger hovers over to dial or text before 8 am for most...or 9 am for Margarita Rita...she thinks..."Is it worth it? Do I want to die?"

Most of the time...she answers herself with a firm..."Yes! After all, we've had a good run." But then sanity kicks in as she notices the time up in the right hand corner of her phone and thinks..."Maybe 5:30 is a little too early." After all, Cherry doesn't want to lose friendships of a lifetime over a little thing like sleep deprivation.

So, she stays busy. Busy doing this, busy doing that. Mostly alot of clutter clean out...emails, junk around the house, trash to the curb...you know...any form of clutter that can be addressed before 8 am. From time to time, she repurposes things around the house. Her most recent repurpose...a large wipe board. You know...one of those you give a child for their chores, and they never check off the boxes upon completion. Just a subtle reminder of your lack of parenting skills. But then again...Miss Cherry is on round number two...grandkids. Everyone has lowered their expectations to maximum spoilage, and what nots.

Resolutions. Miss Cherry has a whole new wipe board full of them. Actually, they seem to follow a continuous theme, all revolving around one central idea...hard work.

After having pneumonia for twenty seven out of fifty two weeks in one year, followed by a professional and personal disaster the next...Cherry was ringing in this New Year with a bowl full of chocolate chip cookie dough, cuddling on the couch...laughter...and a big smile on her face. She couldn't get rid of 2013 fast enough. Some things just need to go. Even if it is a whole year or two.

Good riddance to bad rubbish. Good riddance to companies who don't do what they say. Good riddance to problems you can't solve, people you can't help, water you can't hold in your hands. Let it slip through. Good riddance to ego, pride and thinking about what you've accomplished in the past.

This is a whole new year. Miss Cherry's wipe board is full, and colorful. She used every color in her marker cup. Pretty and functional. Life is art, and so is the imagination.

What goes bump in the night? Thoughts having a party in your brain. Squirrels playing on the roof above your head. College age kids cooking in your kitchen at 3 am. Mirrors not properly anchored into your sheetrock. An occassional ghost or two wandering around.

Just like a bump in the night, sometimes it's best to get up and make yourself known to the world. Take a look at your life's colorful wipeboard, put on a pot of coffee and get on it. Caffeine. After all, those resolutions aren't going to achieve themselves.

"Well, I Do Declare!!!!!!!!"...Miss Cherry's International Travel Tips...Part: Pure Blarney...Ireland

Not so long ago, Miss Cherry and her best friend, Sunny, decided that a trip to Ireland was in order. Matter of fact, not only was it in order…it was overdue. So overdue, that it didn’t take all that much to pull the trigger…just a semi-significant amount of vodka and cranberry, and one shiny, loaded debit card with a recently raised daily limit of $4,000.00. Didn’t take long to connect all of those dots…as, where there is a will, funding, vodka, and friends…there will always be a way. Straight up. Miss Cherry and Sunny…ten days later…found themselves in Dublin, Ireland.

Travel Tip Number One…If you exchange your US Dollars into Euro, only carry a small amount with you…not the whole kit and caboodle. Remember: You have a safe in your room that loves to hold your money, passport and jewelry. Why? If your shiny, new, Texas-sized wallet is too much of a temptation for some happy go lucky thief in the Temple Bar District of Dublin…he will only be able to pay a portion of his electric bill, not the entire buildings. If you are to donate to the local pickpockets, only contribute enough for a pint of Guinness, not cases and cases of Jamison for his next extended family gathering. In other words, plan for a little tomfoolery, but don’t be a fool.

Travel Tip Number Two…specific to the Temple Bar District of Dublin. If a toothless, little Irish man dressed as a leprechaun follows you down the street, he is not offering up a pot of gold. Run away. If he starts pulling on your arm, trying to get you down an alley…kick him where it counts…then…run away. If you realize in the middle of it all that your wallet with all of its necessary contents…i.e. money…has been stolen, and that you are now stranded with your best friend in a bar district on the night that Ireland beat Estonia for a some cup after thirty years...now is not the time for wavering. If a human rights attorney in a suit walks up to you and your friend and says…”You Ladies look you need to be saved. Here have a slice of pizza and I’ll put you in a cab to send you back to your hotel”…you do it. You eat that slice of pizza, thank him profusely, and get your lily white ass back to your hotel pronto. But first, take his card and send him a nice thank you note upon your return to your home soil. Manners count.

Travel Tip Number Three…be on time or arrive early for any and all events or travel tours. They appreciate you…and in Ireland, this means…more Jamison for you. Bottom line…with a sunny disposition, big smile, good manners and the right attitude…they will put you and your best friend in the front seat of the bus, and sit the late Europeans in the back. Again…more Jamison for you…and you get to hold the map and act like you know where you’re going. Oh, and one more tip on this subject…when you stop along the way…always buy some little cookie or treat for the driver. And, if you’re lucky enough to get Stephen Murphy…this will mean…more Jamison for you.

Travel Tip Number Four…when in Ireland, watch out for the Scottish. They look and sound similar to the harmless, friendly Irish, but they aren’t…they’re Scots. Which means…they take it all to the next level…and you better watch them closely. They’re wild. Not in “funny, ha-ha” wild, but in “Oh, shit…where did that come from…run away” wild. Just remember…Highlanders in sheep’s clothing. Just keep an eye on them…they’re tricky.

Travel Tip Number Five…do not route through Amsterdam on your way back from Ireland. It’s like throwing ice cold water on your ten days of happiness and frivolity. Going from the lilting sounds of an Irish accent, broad smiles and all around general happiness of Ireland…to the serious, solemn, don’t look at me or make eye contact of the Dutch…is quite a jolt. Also, if you just so happen to get a sinus infection, and need some form of medication to get on the plane…the over the counters are pretty dicey. “Let’s see…we have the hemp section right next to any and all meds…all written in foreign languages.” So, the second part of this tip would be…packing your own meds. It’s a crap shoot if you don’t.

Travel Tip Number Six…You will always be “suspicious” if you route through Amsterdam back to the States. Always. No exceptions. For Miss Cherry and Sunny…they had to pass through Minnesota customs to get back to Dallas.

“Miss Bo Berry…what was the nature of your visit to Amsterdam?”

“I had a layover in Amsterdam, on my way back from Ireland.”

“So, you are in real estate? Did you conduct any real estate in Amsterdam?”

“No, sir. I flew from Dublin, and was in Amsterdam for about twelve hours. It was a layover on our travel route back to Dallas.”

“What did you buy in Amsterdam? Did you buy that fur coat?”

Now, Miss Cherry was wearing her faux fur from the Thrift Store/Resale Shop. Looks real, but it isn’t. It’s faux. Fake. But, Miss Cherry does look quite good in it.

“No, sir. I bought cheese, chocolate and little Dutch cheese slicers in Amsterdam. Make-up, wool gloves, and Christmas cards in Dublin. This is a fake fur coat I bought in Texas at a Thrift Store for $40.00.”

“So, you bought cheese, chocolate and a fur coat in Amsterdam?”

“No, sir. I bought this coat in Arlington, Texas at a Thrift Store for $40.00. It’s fake. It isn’t fur. It’s synthetic.”

“So, when you bought the fur in Amsterdam, how much did you pay for it?”

Jesus…Mary…and Joseph.

“I paid $40.00 for this synthetic coat that is made out of some plastic product to look like a real fur…in a Thrift Store next to the DMV in Arlington, Texas three years ago.”

Stares at it. Put’s the lotion on it. Put’s the lotion back into the pail.

“What is the purpose of your visit to Minneapolis?”

“Sir, I have a six hour layover before I catch my flight back to Dallas.”

“Do you plan on conducting any real estate business during your six hours, or possibly leaving the airport?”

“No, sir. I plan on using the Ladies restroom, first. Then, I plan on eating a small bag of Cheetos, drinking a Coca Cola, and then…turning on my phone and calling my doctor…as I have a raging sinus infection. I might even eat some of the cheese and chocolate I bought in Amsterdam. Who knows? I might even take this fake fur off and use it as a pillow, and take a nap. I can tell you this…I can’t wait to get back to Dallas. It will be nice to be back on Texas soil.”

It walks away. It doesn’t talk. It has stopped talking.

And, that was that. He stamped the passport and gave it back. Miss Cherry went from Dublin to Amsterdam. No problem. The Dutch didn’t care when she left. It took customs in Minneapolis to give her crap about a fake fur coat. All she could think was…”I must look like his ex-wife who probably left him for the postman…who apparently rang her bell twice.”

Anyway, Miss Cherry and Sunny had a grand time. Much needed, much deserved. They both came back better off…as they drank a ton of Guinness while they were in Ireland. And, if you didn’t already know…Guinness makes you strong. Even when you can’t possibly fit one more pint into your Guinness soaked body…the Irish are so thoughtful. They have created “Lassie” glasses…tiny Guinness glasses to give you a wee little sip…when you can’t take in one more drop. All to make you strong.

They are so thoughtful.

 

Slice of Life: Tales of Halloween…Monster Mash 2003

Miss Cherry understood the importance of making friends in Elementary School. Friendships to carry you through Middle School, High School, College and beyond. A strong friend base is extremely important, and it all starts to build when you are young. After all, as independent, bright and talented as any child might be…deep down…they still have a fundamental need to “fit in” or belong.

Children like to be invited to sleep over at a friend’s house, or to go to a birthday party. They like to be included in the activities of other children and their families. Kids like to socialize, laugh…all part of belonging.  So, it was with this in mind, that Cherry sat her 5^th Grade son down and opened the conversation…

“Sweetheart, you’ll be invited to friend’s homes soon enough. You are basically the new kid again.”

The new kid…either a blessing or a curse. And, for my son…the social ninja…to not have been accepted back into his various public school friend groups…the ones he had before I yanked him out and dropped him into private school again…to then be yanked out and dropped back into public…well, it was devastating.

“Its okay, Honey. So…you aren’t being invited to the parties. We are just out of the social loop. Remember, when we were off in private school and swimming…they were living their lives. It’s what happens. You have to stay engaged in friendships.”

Silence from one very sad, little boy. “Listen, Sweetheart. This is just about getting back into the friendships that you have…and creating new ones. I have a great idea…we will throw the Halloween Party of the Century…invite the entire 5^th Grade…and you just watch what happens. Nothing like throwing a great party to meet new people.”

“Mom, no one will come. I’m not popular anymore and my friends aren’t letting me back into our group.”

“Oh, they’ll come alright. You just watch.”

So, since Cherry was in charge of the school directory (thank you very much)…and a Home Room Mom…she blanketed the 5^th Grade with invitations…both via the U. S. Mail…and back packs. Over one hundred kids were invited…sixty RSVP’d.  Well over one hundred plus kids were dropped on the doorstep. It was a drop and run. Apparently, her son’s party had become a date night for many of the parents. And, she was unknowingly contributing to the “happy couple/adult/cocktail” program all over community.

The home and yard had been artistically turned into a horrifying, spooky, creepy, haunted house…complete with Grimm Reapers (aka teenagers) roaming through the levels of the home, terrifying unsuspecting ten year olds. A Gypsy Fortune Teller (aka her beautiful daughter) in the front room…telling “fortunes”…which was somehow turned into a ‘does so and so like me?’ opportunity by all of the little girls, and a ‘let’s stare at his sister’s boobs’ night for the boys. In the living room, a death match had begun on the Dance Dance Revolution Pads, with the game blasting on the big screen. It became all about boys vs. girls, of course. The girls blew them out of the water. Surround sound Halloween music and pop blasting through the house…strobe lights turning the living room into a club scene. Total and complete…anarchy.

The kitchen was filled with the gross and gooey…which they took great delight in eating. One little boy would walk around with the Zombie Fingers Cookies (thank you, Martha Stewart)…and make it a big production as he consumed the sugar cookie flesh. Every flavor of soda flowed, Skittles were hitting their system. Dry ice was in and under everything. “Miss Cherry, this food is so gross and scary…but it’s sooooo gooooood!!!!!”

For Miss Cherry and Miss Melissa (best other 5^th Grade Mom in the World)…there was vodka. A full handle of vodka and a Cosmo set up. It made sense. Vodka rich Cosmos for the stupid adults, soda for the ten year olds. Miss Melissa was dressed in a red body suit, complete with a red sequined devil’s tail and horn…and a pitchfork…which she used effectively. Miss Cherry couldn’t dress in her normal Halloween costume…Monica Lewinsky…which she understood to be inappropriate to the age group. She had to settle for either a last minute lame vampire or exhausted Mom…so she decided to go with both.

“Do you see little Arianna up on the hearth?”

“Is she dressed as a Go Go Dancer? What is that costume?”

“Well, she’s in her own little world on that hearth. She’s been up there the entire party, and won’t let anyone up there to dance with her. What are your thoughts on that Miss Melissa?”

“Stripper. Future Stripper.”

“Yep. That little girl has a bright future in the adult entertainment industry.”

About that time, Cherry was joined by another Grimm Reaper…one of her son’s best friends…the cutest little girl in the 5^th Grade…Sydney.  She has opted out of all princess, Go Go Dancer…girly costumes…and has decided to express her inner sarcastic darkness. She slides up out of nowhere…“Hello, Miss Cherry. So, I scared you good, huh?”

“Yes, you did…Miss Sydney…you Grimm Reaper, you. What are those girls doing over there?”

“Where?”

“In the middle of the dance floor…what are they doing? What is that dance?”

And, about that time…one of the little girls notices she’s being watched and says…”Miss Cherry, may we please pop?”

“What’s popping?”

“It’s just a dance, Miss Cherry. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Sure, sweetheart…pop away.”

Back to Sydney. “So, how is your Mom?”

“Miss Cherry?”

“Yes”

“When they ask you if they can pop, you should say no. It’s a “no popping” dance floor.”

Cherry and Melissa turn around to see these little girls all popping their behinds up like strippers, and Arianna on the hearth adding the popping to her repertoire.

"NO POPPING!!!!!”  And, they resume their normal dance moves. Little tricky ghouls. Don’t dress like a princess and act like a stripper. Anyway, turning back to grab her Cosmo…thin air.

“Sydney, have you seen Miss Cherry’s Cosmo? I keep setting them down, and I can’t find them once I do.”

“Well, it was here…but Cody has been stealing your drinks all night for a group of boys. You shouldn’t put your drink down, Miss Cherry. They distract you…and then, take your drink and share it. Actually, they are getting kinda drunk. One of them was running from one of the teenagers dressed as a Grimm Reaper and ran right into a door.”

Great. So, after an Executive meeting with Miss Melissa…a pact was made not to sacrifice one more ounce of vodka out of neglect. Sneaky little ghouls. Need to keep them organized and busy.

“Okay kids, time for the scavenger hunt. I’m going to divide you into groups of twenty and assign you a teenager or adult. We are going to go out into the neighborhood, try to get the things on our lists…and the first group back wins!”

No response. A strobe light going off, silent stares. Finally, one of their leaders stepped up to say…. “WE WANT TO STAY HERE AND PLAY DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “ To which all of the kids started cheering him on. And to top it off, Arianna is refusing to leave the hearth. Drunk, stripper dancing, sneaky, tricky…uncooperative…little ghouls. Adults rule, kids drool.

Eventually, the first several groups out into the neighborhood. Made Cherry turn to Melissa and say…”I’ll tell you what…when I was a kid, scavenger hunts were too cool. Neighbors handed you the paper clip, rubber band, toilet roll, old newspaper…and whatever else a Mom put on the list. Just so you could bring back your loot and make the art project. Maybe they’ll enjoy the Halloween Party art project.” Miss Melissa had her doubts.

Unfortunately, time had taken its toll on the scavenger hunt from the 60’s and 70’s. It was a million years later, and outdated…from the perspective of a 5^th Grader. The hunt was non-party-productive.

“Miss Cherry, Miss Gladys on the corner said to tell you that ‘if one more group of screaming kids comes to her front door for a toilet roll…she’s calling the cops’…and that she will want the toilet paper, rubber bands and paper clips back after your Halloween fiasco.”

There you go…Gladys had no sense of wonderment. Who would call the cops on a 5^th Grade Monster Mash? Easy answer…grumpy neighbors who never turned their lights on for the kids at Halloween. I guess the ten year olds pushed right through the lack of holiday cooperation, and were going for the gold. Maybe, Cody and his gang were adding “Bud Light” to their list…who knows? But, since a cop shut down would be damaging to the party purpose, kids were herded back, and candied up. This suited those ghouls just fine. They danced and ran around in the house. Miss Melissa and Miss Cherry drank their vodka. It was a win-win. No cops were called to the scene.

Parents started showing up to pick up their kiddos. Cherry and Melissa had a nice visit with Arianna’s Mom who thought Arianna had special talents, and then, dragged her off the hearth.

Then, they took Cody’s Mom aside to discuss the accidental alcohol intake. Her reply…”That kid steals alcohol all of the time. We had to install a lock on the liquor cabinet. He’s a handful. (wink) Do you have a Cosmo for me?”

So, all of the kids went away sugared up and beyond happy. The parents didn’t have to roam the neighborhood for hours…and Cherry’s son made more friends than he could ever imagine. He had the party of the world…in 5^th Grade terms. Matter of fact…this prompted the question…”Miss Cherry, will you have another Halloween Party next year when we are in 6^th Grade?”

She had to think about that one. After all, having taught 6^th Grade Religious Education at St. Maria’s for years, she knew what happened mid-year in the 6^th Grade….the conversion. The conversion from sweet kid to…”I’m almost in Junior High.” It was the time when they were nearing that twelve year old mark in life…and attitude started emerging…and the phrase…”That sucks!”…entered their vocabulary. They’d be kissing in the bathrooms, breaking up and going steady…stealing more alcohol. But…really…Halloween did fall before the mid-year mark. It just might be doable.

“I’m not so sure, sweetheart. Maybe…if y’all are really good for your parents and teachers over the next year, we’ll see. Being that y’all are a bunch of ghouls…zombies…pirates…ninjas…ghosts…well, what can I expect? Full of mischief, all of you!”…a wink and a smile.

When it is all said and done…honestly…happy little ghoul equals a happy Mom. So, it takes you a couple of months to fully recover all of the stolen martini glasses from wherever Cody hid them?  So, what? Think of it all as hidden treasure, and you’ll do be just fine.