Monday, October 31, 2011

Halloween, Chez Doucette


Let the celebrations begin.
A glowing pumpkin head is quite necessary...

...as is Burton decor, like Jack Skellington.



 The bathroom came down with a case of the creepy crawlies,

 
and a battle broke out on the opposite wall, pitting good vs. evil. The angel won, vanquishing the horrible Witchy Poo. Only her hat and shoes remain.

 A ghoulish tree made it's home above the toilet, which is rather inconvenient.

  In the meantime, a dark forest grew in the kitchen,

while a haunted skull sprung forth killer tarantulas in the living room! If you try to use the television, only horror films are shown. I've been feeding candy to them, piece by piece. Now they do my bidding. 
Heh heheh.

Enchanted pumpkins slowed the hands of time,

 
for a magical patch to grow by the mantle,

as a Gargoyle stands sentry.


A ghostly Elvis album decided it did not want its' picture taken. How shy!

And spirited clothes flew from my closet into the hallway, busily arranging an outfit to mark the occasion. Sadly, they hung themselves. R.I.P.

Have a great Halloween.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Creature Features


http://en.wikipedia.org
Yesterday we got our first blast of winter, here in the Northeast. Rain, ice, snow, and thunder! It was a mighty show of force by Mother Nature, creating the perfect day to stay indoors and watch horror flicks. As luck would have it, this weekend is rife with Halloween specials on t.v. 

http://en.wikipedia.org
In truth, I was kind of overwhelmed by the amount of selections to choose from. I channel-hopped madly trying to keep up with my train of thought and level of interest. It felt heavenly, cozied up under a thick blanket, riding out the storm while indulging my Monster Mania. Shades of childhood, enjoyed with candy corn as the season dictates, like the shelf life time window for Mallowmars.

I kicked off my marathon Karloff-style, with the original 1930s version of "The Mummy", which is fitting given that he is the undisputed master of the genre. Incredible, dramatic lighting sets the emotional tone. This famous, iconic movie still from the film captures the mummy's hypnotic gaze and its' magnetic power.

http://en.wikipedia.org
"The Bride of Frankenstein" also aired. I've seen it before, yet I would periodically go back to it, as I watched other channels. Like Tim Burton in his MOMA interview, I found myself rooting for "The Monster". The town villagers hunt Frakenstein down, during it's lonely search for a companion. It is a heart-breaking scene. What existential angst, to be the only one of your kind, a uniquely horrible threat to society!  The monster had no hand in it's creation. Karloff made the character into a child-like victim of circumstance, an innocent.

http://drnorth.wordpress.com/category/horror/page/2/
As the day wore on, my tummy grew fuller. The afternoon "sleepies" set in, just as "Godzilla, King of the Monsters" began. It was time for a nap. Before my eyes closed, the opening credits reminded me that it was a major release in 1956. Raymond Burr played the lead! I can read lips fairly well, so I noticed quickly that he spoke his lines in English, while the nurse from the hospital scene delivered her lines in Japanese. It was a cross-over hit between the two countries, at a time when Hiroshima loomed fresh in the collective memory. The catalyst for the monster's rise from the ocean's depths was an atomic blast by naval ships asea on test maneuver duty.

http://en.wikipedia.org
It was a full day. I saw a darkly Gothic version of "Wuthering Heights" on Masterpiece Theater, a strange little movie about a gypsy curse called "Drag Me to Hell", "From Dusk to Dawn"'s beginning, which I had missed on previous cable airings, "30 Days of Night" again—a fantastic, modern take on the vampire myth—and some of the "Halloween Wars" series on the Food Channel, which I hope to catch in finale. On a side note, I picked the winner on "Project Runway" and she won. More on that show in a future article.

Have a safe and peaceful Sunday. Happy t.v. watching :)


Saturday, October 29, 2011

Monsters, Inc.


In addition to Fangoria, as kids we also flipped over Monsters magazine. And why wouldn't we? There were articles about the special effects creators, rubber masks for sale, and toy models of our favorite (or most horrifying) monsters. The biggest actors from the genre were in there, too: Lon Chaney, Jr., Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee. Goldmine!

We concocted recipes for fake blood, and ordered King Kong models from clip out coupons out of the back of the mag, to make Super8 movies of our own. We wrote scripts, and solicited the help of adults to paint backdrops for our mini movie sets. It was so much fun. To this day, horror and fantasy remain prized genres for me to watch on a rainy night. I pored over the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and the creepier aspects to Shakespeare's Macbeth, particularly the graveyard soliloquy to his dead courtier, Yorick. 

To say that we had a taste for the macabre would be an understatement, because children recognize high camp and ghoulish fun when they encounter it. The thrill from a good scare is unbeatable. We want to be surprised, and also amused, with a dose of fear for all the unknowns that go bump in the night. After all, the world is a very scary place for children, isn't it? We were so vulnerable and dependent upon others for our care, and if those needs were not met, we would not survive—life vs. death.

Enter into this environment a family trip to California. My oldest brother must have been the driving force behind this gem of an idea, because our parents lined up a visit to the home of the editor to Famous Monsters of Filmland, Forrest J Ackerman. We suffered through banal tours to the desert, The Chinese Theater, the San Diego Zoo, and the Gene Autry museum, to see several stuffed versions of Trigger and Rin Tin Tin. Kinda creepy in it's own way, though all were dulled by the harsh glare of the SoCal sun. I remember constantly squinting and in dire need of sunglasses, which came in the form of these embarrassing animal kiddie frames, bought in haste from the zoo's gift shop.


Finally, we got to see the real stop on our tour, the Ackermansion! We drove through the Hollywood Hills, looking for a street sign for "Karloffornia", and we got so excited to find it! Mr. Ackerman was a wonderful man, a true fan with a giving and generous nature. He gave tours through his home, which is a museum to the artifacts and models from the films we loved so much. I was delighted to find video clips from other visitors, who shared this once-in-a-lifetime Ackerman experience. He's exactly as I recalled: passionate, enthusiastic, full of facts, trivia and information. We adored him. What a kind, sweet man. Thanks to the fellow fan for posting this video clip. It brought back lots of wonderful memories :)


At the end of our tour, he gave us laminated pins of a black and white photo of him. It was a treasured childhood keepsake for many years.

Spread the love, by sharing your passion with others today.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Oddities

Another bout with insomnia some months prior left me channel surfing late at night, once again. From the opener to the end of this show, I was hooked. It was dark, creepy, and kooky. Cool! Even better, the shop is located in New York. Local color, indeed.


"Obscura" deals with a certain clientele who represent a rather interesting subset of the tri-state area's population. For me, the characters who frequent the shop are the type of people who are into a retro Coney Island, freak show, tattooed look. Oddly enough, they aren't all that uncommon in these parts, familiar to those of us who work within creative businesses. The raven-haired, heavily-tatted, red-lipsticked gal with an odd assortment of vintage items in her office is a standard in most art and design departments around town.

After all, those of us who are art school refugees are used to these types of encounters. How many times have you been in a "crit" (a critique session held in a studio class, when new work is posted for review, commentary, slashing, personal attacks, what have you), when invariably one student tries to define themselves with shock tactics? Raises hand!

Beyond that, I find fascination in a trade that deals in dead items. Unlike someone looking to be "edgy", I like the frank discussion of human remains within the real world. Death is so hidden and taboo among Americans, it's almost like this natural part of our existence, doesn't, well, exist. But it so clearly does. Every life form on this planet is born, lives for a time, then dies. To deny this basic tenet of all life on earth seems just as strange to me, a sanitization of something everyone encounters. Why not put it out there and deal with it in a healthier, more open way? 


There is also a heavily scientific interest to the show, with their business done in skeletons, animal pelts, mummies, etc; something that also resonates with most artists, because we typically study anatomy and biology in detail. You'd be surprised at some of the experts they have on the show: private collectors, museum curators, lawyers, taxidermists, the list goes on and on. And if you're in New York already, or planning a trip, go check out the shop with your own eyes. http://www.obscuraantiques.com/

Cover design by Marie Doucette
Happy Halloween shopping.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Many of my readers know I that am a huge Tim Burton fan, and that my favorite movie is The Nightmare Before Christmas. Years ago, after graduating from RISD*, me and two of my friends from college bunked at my aunts' apartment, in the Kensington section of Brooklyn. We would not have been able to launch our artistic careers without having that place, splitting the low monthly maintenance fee on our starter salaries. One of my dear college friends is a talented, professional animator. He went to see the movie first, with my other roommate. 

They came home excited to tell me all about it. I'll never forget what my friend said to me: "Marie, you have got to see this movie. It's you! It's everything that you and your work stand for!" Wow. Pretty powerful stuff. How could I say no? My animator roomie readily agreed to take me to see it again, because he enjoyed it so much. We went to a theater so crowded, I had to sit in the first row and off to the side, craning my neck the entire time. I saw it tilted and crooked, at a showing featuring a worn copy of the film that kept skipping or stopping, and it didn't make a difference at all.


Those of you into 80s music trivia might remember the band Oingo Boingo, and their hit "It's a Dead Man's Party", a Halloween party staple back in the day. Lead singer Danny Elfman went on to become an extraordinarily successful composer for film and t.v. He did the score to Nightmare, and many other Burton films. You might remember him from such t.v. theme songs like "The Simpsons". This cool intro goes into a whole overseas sweatshop riff. Awesome!


Elfman's score to Nightmare sets the tone for this Halloween world, which is basically the backdrop to what is essentially a coming-of-age tale and a love story, both universal themes. It's a story about being true to yourself and authenticity; how to keep your sense of self intact, as you move about the world. Jack Skellington, the main character, mistakenly believes he was made for something other than the Pumpkin King. 


In a misguided attempt to change his destiny, he tries on the Santa Claus persona, with disastrous results. In the end, he realizes he has strayed too far from his roots, and he learns to embrace his role as the King of Halloween. Along the way, he falls in love. A classic hero-on-a-quest arc, though in this case, he's sort of a dark, Gothic "anti-hero", but not really. He has a heart of gold, or at least he used to before dying! 


I also love that Jack has a ghost dog sidekick named "Zero" that he plays fetch with in the graveyard, using one of his ribs. There's so much lavish detail, and humor, too. It's a labor of love, with work-intensive, hand-made characters filmed using the stop-motion animation technique. It would be impossible to achieve the movies' look using other technologies.

I adore the interview Mr. Burton did for his MOMA show, as he explains what his work means to him:


Brilliant, isn't he? There's nothing quite like hearing a master explain their work, in their own words. At the core of all Tim's different works, there's a recurring message that I draw from and respond to, which boils down to this: Don't let the bastards grind you down. 


Shine on, you crazy diamond, for this Halloween and the next. 
And so on, and so on, and so on....



* Rhode Island School of Design.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

"Everybody was Kung-Fu Fighting"

Me and my Irish twin bro were obsessed with wacky martial arts movies as kids, the weirder the better. They were so much fun to watch: the bad dubbing, the over-acting, the sound effects, plus some real martial arts and weapon skills. Back in the day, Channel 9 WOR-TV in New York aired long afternoons filled with foreign flicks. 


We relished this t.v. time to indulge our interest. Bruce Lee was a huge film star in the 70s, bringing the first serious wave of martial arts to the States. In the 80s, things took a turn for the "douche" when "The Karate Kid" came out. I remember cliques of wanna-be's posing around junior high in white headbands with the Japanese sun in the middle, throwing fake kicks and using nunchucks poorly.

Fight culture has long been a part of my family. My dad was in the Navy, and he had done some boxing at Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn. He grew up in a rough section called Bed-Stuy, a time that he still doesn't talk about openly or often, and I can't blame him for that. He had friends in gangs and in jail, doing serious time. I suspect he may have dabbled in greaser culture, too, though the military put him on the path to self-discipline, lessons he installed in all his children.

In my family, there are five of us who have studied (or currently study) martial arts: me and my twin, my youngest bro, my oldest nephew, and even my mom, who took Tai Chi classes for people with Multiple Sclerosis. It must be genetic, as is our bent towards weaponry. Another nephew expressed interest in fencing, something I have always wanted to try. There never seems to be enough time to accomodate all of my various hobbies, interests, and activities, a problem that I am happy to have. Boredom is not a trait we understand well, because, like the saying goes, there is the strong suggestion that one may be boring, another character trait I do not have.

We loved the costumes, the fantasy, and also the beautiful skills from the imports we watched so avidly. Those early movies exposed us to a different world, one which filled us with a fascination that will last a lifetime. Consider this a introduction to more articles on martial arts culture. That's a promise!


"Keeeeee-yaaaahhhhh!!!!"


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

"GASP! Diba dinu puppa cam!"


The title of this article is an embarrassing approximation of the drooling baby talk I use in the presence of puppies. After all, what's a pet person to do with the absence of a dog in the household? You indulge your "Petophilia" via the internet, along with the rest of the pervs with less wholesome interests.

I submit to you, for your approval, that no site captures the zeitgeist of puppy joy better than The Shiba Inu Puppy Cam. I would spend lunchtimes at my desk, eating while watching the video cam footage posted by their breeders. It's wildly funny to see a furry scramble of pups play-fight, poignant when one of the puppies gets adopted, and soothing to watch a basketful of beautiful puppies sleep, snuggled up against each other.

Between litters, the cam is still a blast. The owners post videos of the mom and dad. Check it out, and feed your jones!

Monday, October 24, 2011

Love 'em While You Can

The end of last week was a rough one. We lost our beloved TeddyBear, the coolest Mal ever. It was a reminder for me and my pet-lovin' crew to live it up with our animals while we have them. 

In honor of this credo, I submit to you that no one does this better than Joel from The Soup. First off, he dresses his Chihuahua, Lou, in costumes and puts him in skits. Awesome! And hilarious. 


Second, he realizes the cruelty and ridiculousness of taunting a dog with food. This crazy couple has a gentle Australian Shepherd who can be tamed by such actions. If a snow dog was involved, you'd be pulling your arm forcefully out of their giant mouth while the trainer tries to administer shock treatments. 

Uh, folks, there's some cursing involved:


Never fear for Stains, dear readers, because Joel and his crew correct this injustice done to him, in a big way:


Have a blast with your animal friend today.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Friday, October 21, 2011

Ted, 1.29.01-10.20.11


The first Saint I knew as a child was St. Francis of Assisi. I received First Communion and Confirmation at a parish in his honor, and I currently practice at the cathedral St. Francis Xavier, a missionary also named after the famous saint. His was a great story for a child to read: the eccentric son of a wealthy merchant who openly disparaged greed and profit for selfish motives. The more vocal he became, the more his message fell on deaf ears, until finally, in an epiphany, he went into the woods and preached to the animals, if men would not listen. It's an important spiritual concept. When you feel abandoned by those around you, do not reject your principles, but rather turn inward so that you may recognize a deeper truth.

All my life I have felt a special affinity for the creatures of this beautiful planet. There was the year that I took all my birthday money and sent it to the organization "Friends for Animals", a gesture that earned me some serious and baffled inquiry from my mother. I still have the poster somewhere that I got as a gift for supporting their charity. Most children naturally love animals, too. It is the #1 best-selling subject for children's books—farms, and puppies. And what's not to love? We are genetically programmed as humans to respond to furry, cute critters. We evolved with dogs through time. If not for them as our helpers, we would not have survived in some of the harshest climates on Earth. Many of my readers know that my first dog was a gorgeous Samoyed we named Snowflake, a doggie who deserves an article of her very own, to come during wintertime, as is fitting for my girl :) We, as a family, responded to her beauty in a profound way. 

I have wrote some in the past about my surname "Doucette", and its French-Canadian origins. Snow Dogs were necessary to the survival of my ancestors when they pioneered in the most harsh climates of Canada. After The Expulsion, a time of ethnic cleansing and extermination directed towards Acadians*, we split in order to survive. Some, like my ancestors, went deep into the woods, to join with Indians in their fight against the British. Others, after their rejection down the eastern seaboard, were driven to the swamps of Louisiana, to found the colony of New Orleans. "Cajun" is a corruption of "Acadian", a fact I learned from my father during a cruise we took with other relatives who celebrate our Nova Scotian roots. He also revealed to me, for the first time, that his grandfather spoke with a heavy French accent.

It is encoded within my DNA to respond to snow dogs in a way that is hard for me to describe. More than simply their outward appearances, which are stunning to behold, I understand their temperament, and the high level of communication they attain with human members of their tribe. I sense them, and I feel their pain. With the passing of our family dog many years ago, came some of the sharpest and most keenly felt longing I have ever experienced. We, as a group, have never forgotten our beloved pet. So much so, my mother swore never to have another animal live in her house, a vow she has kept.

So, you can imagine my reluctance when an ex-boyfriend bought me a Malamute puppy as a surprise. He and I were not made to have long-term legs in our relationship, and this dog served as a bind to keep me with him. I knew that, and dear readers, I tried to resist. But ultimately, I couldn't and he knew that, knowing my history. I fell for the most spectacular animal I have ever seen, and we named him TeddyBear. I knew Ted was too big for me to take care of alone, and that he would grow to outweigh me, but my ex was a large man, and together we could right this imbalance. When we split, my family implored me to adopt him out, in order to protect me, but I couldn't. It went that deep with me. The inevitable happened, and Teddy pulled me over one very early morning, during a walk.

A few years prior, Teddy had been hit by a car crossing a street, running to a playground filled with children from the neighborhood, who called his name. My instincts, when I had told my ex to put him on a leash, were overridden when he said it was just a quick trip to take out the trash. True to snow dog nature, Ted made a mad dash for the kids, as is their ingrained way, and was struck by a speeding car. That night was a blur, as I drove to an ER, with Ted bleeding from the mouth in the backseat of my car. We had gone to our local vet to get an injection to keep him breathing and his heart pumping. 

The vet said if he made it through the night, it would be a miracle. I stripped the blankets from the bed, laid on the living room floor, crying and calling the vet every few hours, as they checked on him in a breathing tent. They told me afterwards it was a miracle that he survived. In my heart, I made a promise to Teddy that I would always take care of him, protect him, and care for him, so that nothing like that ever happened to him again. Fast forward years later, on  that morning walk, when I could not let go of his leash as he made a dash for some food in the street. Ted had been put on a diet, which made him hungry, and I had downstairs neighbors who were riding me hard about his morning vocalizations for "walkies". All this led to the perfect storm for my accident, a brief moment in time that would have a huge impact on my life, forever. Because I would not risk another car accident for him, Ted spun me around as he made a lunge for a bagel on the ground, instantly breaking my leg. He then pulled me down, my head cracking on the pavement, then dragged me along the sidewalk. I would not relinquish my grip on him, to protect him.

It was so early in the morning, I had no phone, no money, only the keys in my hand. A passerby had to call for an ambulance (Dear lady, whoever you are, thank you for your kindness towards me). After getting the results of my X-Rays, I knew my life was completely altered. Because Teddy was home alone (the ambulance drivers had to take him up to my 4th floor walk-up, as I could not. We laughed as we put him in the back with us, a first for them), and I was left in a fast-filling ER, cab voucher in hand, I made the decision to walk home on crutches. After a brief lesson from the Doctor, I made the journey home to him. Along the way, a bus stopped to ask me if I needed a ride, and a neighbor asked me to sit, but I would not. As I turned the key to the building door, those stairs loomed before me like Mount Everest. I turned around, sat down on the first stair, and I pulled myself up using my arms, dragging the crutches with me, all the way to the 4th floor. I heard the woman who had directed the noise complaints towards me, through her door making comments to someone as she looked at me through the peephole, as I crawled past their apartment upstairs. Not once did she offer to help me up. The next day, I was in such pain, because I pulled almost every muscle in my body.

I made arrangements with my dog walker to provide for Teddy's walks, but something further had to be done. My father came to my aid, as he always does, and placed Teddy in a kennel, while we came up with a plan. I had two tibia fractures, torn cartilage, tendon and ligament damage, and I was in need of surgery. I was also at a new job, where the art director, a supposed bleeding-heart dog rescue volunteer, was pushing for my termination. My health insurance had just kicked in two weeks prior. Because I could not climb stairs, I had to sleep on my mother's pull-out couch during the weeks that followed. Ted's handlers at the kennel sent me heart-wrenching photos of him, sad, alone, and dejected in his kennel. Never have I hurt so much in all my life. In the weeks that followed, I had knee surgery, and the recovery. I went back to work and made plans to regain my life. Then, I noticed a tightening in my calf muscle at night. I stayed alone in a hotel room near my job, taking a car service mornings and evenings to and from the office. I was told to go to the ER immediately, where I was diagnosed with DVT, Deep Vein Thrombosis.

I had to go back to my mother's apartment, and receive injections into my stomach with blood thinner. I was diagnosed 3 times with 3 separate DVT's. After that, I would need months of Physical Therapy to walk properly again. My oldest brother had to phone me with the bad news that I would not be able to keep Ted, my dog, just when I needed comfort the most. I sobbed with the realization, as he told me how selfish I was. We came up with a plan for adoption, and we sorted through the options. I told my mom firmly that I would not part with my dog unless the perfect person came into my life. My mom looked at me lying on the sofa and said, "Okay, I'll pray for it." and I knew it would happen. The next day, a couple called us looking to adopt, and Angel came into my life. I had not seen Teddy since the accident. As we sat at my mother's kitchen table, I signed over his breed papers to them, ceding all future rights to him as my dog. I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do, but it hurt like hell.

Yesterday, Angel called to let me know that Teddy was gravely ill, and went to sleep. Through the years, she and I became good friends, consulting over his challenging health care issues. Malamutes are not for the beginner dog owner! I knew he had the same effect on her that all of his fans felt, and we shared many great moments together. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking such excellent care of my Teddy.

I have never publicly shared the M'Loot Mahlemut name I would say joyfully, in the early mornings, as I called for him, "T'Doo! Teddoo! Ted-Doo!" http://omalmalamutes.com/omal/kotzebuevsmaloot.htm

Goodbye, Bear Cub. Mama loves you.




Thursday, October 20, 2011

Greatest Hits

Growing up, my favorite flavors were R & B, Motown, with some disco thrown into the mix. The 70s dance craze raged through our household. My parents got dressed up to go dancing, looking so glamorous and grown-up, as they twirled around the living room doing The Hustle. Two of the more popular songs to their choreography were from the movies.

Nothing makes me feel more "disco" than the theme song from "Car Wash". It's a bumpin', fun, rowdy ride of a song. Listening to it takes me back to the joints that lined Manhattan's West Side Highway, along with the "Ladies of the Night" and the squeegee bums, who would foul up your cars' windshield with newspapers and dirty water, just to get some more money to repair their shoddy work. It was some scene. I still love going through car washes, too. Good memories.




Another record that played often was the soundtrack to "Thank God It's Friday!". The movie showcased the great talent of Donna Summer, the reigning Queen of Disco. What a voice! I loved her storyline, too: a shy star, making her first strides in the music scene, working towards her big break. 

She begs the DJ to spin for her, so she can sing to the track, but he turns her down because she's an unknown. Through some scheming, she finally gets her track to play over the club's system. She steps onto the stage, nervously warbling through her first notes, then gains strength as the she moves through the song. It's such a great scene, because we empathize with her wholeheartedly, rooting for her to make it. Aren't we all trying to find our rhythm? Don't let anyone break your stride.



(Skip to 5:15 in for Donna Summer's performance as Nicole)

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Fat Cats

People of my acquaintance know that I am a huge pet person. I have been the proud owner of various choice, quality snow dogs. However, there's an exception to my "Dogs Only" rule, and that is a portly kitty. A former co-worker, who is an insanely over-the-top rescue volunteer for a specific breed of terrier, took umbrage when I expressed my affection for the fat cat, as the exemption to my snow dog policy. 

Yes, I am aware that said cat in question is perhaps unhealthily obese, but with all my pet experiences, (our family dog was introduced to the household when I was 4 or 5), I have never known an animal to expire from the onset of heart disease related to high cholesterol derived from fatness. It's not like they hit the Mickey D's hard!

My dream scenario is this: a very large and docile chubster lives in my library, equipped with a leather couch, a fireplace, and many bookshelves for the cat to play amongst. Fitting, no? I think it is quite so. Witness Watson, the cat of a couple of designers, and his comfortable Fat Cat lifestyle: THANKSGIVING. SO FULL, SO FAT.

Watson also knows the joys of library lounging, and shares my love of all things Halloween. This is most acceptable to me: HALLOWEEN, HAPPY.

Now, without further ado, I bring to you, dear readers, some choice selections of Fat Cat videos, in celebration of their awesomeness. 

It's hip to be furry!


Will work for food: 


What would a fat cat be without a couch potato lifestyle?


Seriously, though, I still need a dog for outdoor activities. I mean, this cat just does absolutely nothing, deserving of banishment to my fantasy library. Scat, cat! 

This specimen earns major points for fatness, laziness, and overall cuteness:


Eat like a champ, because if you don't, they will.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

City of the Dead

photos of Green-Wood Cemetery © Marie Doucette
For years I've wanted to explore Green-Wood Cemetery. When I lived in Kensington in the 90s, I used to pass by an entrance to the famous Brooklyn landmark, on my way to Prospect Park. My curiosity was forever piqued. This weekend, the gates were opened to the public for free. I had my adventure on Sunday, with maps in hand. It felt like I was about to embark on a treasure hunt! 


With my very first vivid impressions, I was overwhelmed. Spectacular! Gorgeous! Beautiful! It's a wildly scenic place, more like an Olmstead park. Some stretches burst with light, bright with color and sunshine. Other areas are dark and eerie. The wind whistles through the treetops, rattling through the raspy fall leaves as they fall to the ground, evoking a loneliness that is palatable to the senses. It smells of decay. Most of my readers know my fondness for Halloween, Tim Burton, and my favorite movie, "The Nightmare Before Christmas." This is my Disneyland. Why do I love cemeteries? They're quiet spots; peaceful, holy places, that have sculptures and engravings. As Scouts, we created rubbings from the stone facades, capturing the lettering and reliefs on paper. Large grave sites are typically laid out amongst a vast landscape, fun to wander around and get lost in, or at least try to.

Students of history know that graveyards are portals to the past. Throughout Green-Wood are stark reminders about the brutality of life in pioneer America. Many plots have stones that read, simply, "Mother", "Father", "Brother", and "Baby". Mausoleums for the very wealthy revealed their share of heartache, too. This picture was taken from within the Niblo mausoleum. The famed man laid to rest was a Broadway producer. This statue marks the grave of a unnamed child. It had never been open to the public before the day of the tour.

As much as I like mausoleums and gravestones, I felt a special thrill entering The Catacombs. So atmospheric, like the underground crypts of Rome. Throughout the length of the corridor are round skylights which cast long, blue shadows. Tiny, orange electric lights dot the way. Awesome! It's the perfect primer for catching the Halloween spirit.

I took a brief rest before resuming my wanderings. Markers everywhere testify to the ethnic diversity that defines the American experience. Here's a fellow from Scotland. For those of us with storied lineage from the "New World", they serve as ties to the lands of our ancestors. There's a section filled with people of German descent, another with Italian, and a resting place for Irish-American soldiers who died in the Korean War.

The grounds are sophisticated by design, full of scenic vistas. In this city of the dead, there are lanes and paths with charming street signs of wrought iron, mirroring the urban environment we live in. You'll need a map to find your way around, and you'll need more than a day to take it all in. A tour guide said he notices something different every time he works here.

Another tour guide has a pet name for a giant tortoise called "Godzilla", that lives in the pond by the Niblo Mausoleum. She tried to conjure him for me, by calling his name and tapping her foot on the stone ledge that borders the pond. I tried, too, but had no better luck. She returned with binoculars, though I had already come to the conclusion that it was a yellow leaf floating on the surface. There's birds, squirrels, chipmunks, what have you. The lakes and ponds have fish, frogs, toads, and turtles.

I sat down to rest on the edge of the Morse family monument, wherein lies Samuel Morse, inventor of the telegraph. I was surprised to catch the scent of apples. I looked around to notice the ground covered with fruit fallen from a nearby tree. To be surrounded by such beauty, what a honor! I felt a lightness in the air. The worry we feel about death was lifted, replaced by a feeling of transcendence. I felt hope that I would be able to face my final moments with bravery, my soul filled with peace. I would return to the great vastness of the universe from which we all spring from. I felt happy and excited about the future. What a cheerful spot.


As I made my way back to the beginning, along the perimeters' winding boulevard, the main gate began to appear above the treetops. What borough tour be would be complete without Brooklyn Parrots? A large colony makes it home among the turrets which mark the main entrance to Green-Wood. Ooo, that's happy, too! I heard them before I saw them, a bright flock of green and yellow parrots, or parakeets, followed by a burst of movement. Several birds took flight from their large nests, putting on quite the display for the delighted spectators below. To find out more about them, you can take another tour, which I wrote about previously on this blog: http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/search/label/Brooklyn%20Parrots


As much as I adore history and nature, I asked the guides about the particulars regarding religious practices and affiliations. There was a serious spiritual aspect to my tour, as you, the reader, may have already gathered. Green-Wood began as nondenominational grounds. After a time, a section was blessed for Christian burials, and then the entire cemetery was consecrated for Catholics. As I lay on my back enjoying the sun, on a small grassy knoll by The Catacombs, my mind wandered as I meditated on the surroundings. 

What a perfect place for an Illuminator to spend an eternity ;)