Hippie Canyon Vintage Voicings: What Should I Be for Halloween?

"What should I be for Halloween?" A phrase I've heard repeatedly for the last six weeks or so, ever since the beautiful vintage clothing store I work at has been turned into Halloween Hell. I complain about it every year, but I'm still here. I was never told in my job description that two months out of every year is like working at the zoo; that was sprung on me like a nanny who is called to a giant mansion on a hill, thinking she is only to be responsible for one child, and then it turns out that there's about eight or nine of them, but she's already stuck in the middle of nowhere, out on the moors somewhere, and has to stay and try to keep it together. Except in that story she probably ends up marrying the wealthy, lonely father and becoming the matron of the manor.

'Matron of the Manor' would be a good Halloween costume, for example. But the General Public has no imagination, generally speaking.

As the days drew closer to 'the big day', people became more and more frantic in their behavior and questioning, like the end of the world was drawing nigh.

"I don't know what to be!" they would exclaim. "Can you help me?"

I think, this is an existential question. The Great Void rearing its ugly head. Or maybe a question for a good psychoanalyst.

I tried not to fall into their trap of complacency.

"There must be something that you can think of, that you want to be," I would coax them. "There must be something that 'calls' to you...something you feel drawn to."

They would stare back at me with glassy eyes and a slack mouth. "I don't know what to be for Halloween!" they would say again, at a louder, frenzied pitch. "Can you help me?"

"Maybe you could try using your imagination?" I suggested to one teenage girl with a particularly Zombie-like demeanor.

"I don't have one," she responded.

This same girl brought a pair of thigh-high black high-heeled boots to the front counter, tossed them in my direction, and said "I found these...what can I be with these?"

"A hooker, obviously," I thought to myself, but was fortunately saved by a ringing telephone. I answered. "I don't know what to be for Halloween!" the person on the other end squealed. "Can you help me?"

"If you come in and look around, I'm sure you will find something to be," I told them. I would hope so.

People come to me in the store as if I were a psychic, or able to sum up their entire character in an instant. That I can tell them what to be, and they will accept my answer and be it.

One man walked in first thing in the morning, right when we opened. He was waiting outside when I pulled up in my car. I hadn't had my coffee, yet.

"I don't know what to be...what should I be?"

He followed me around the store, as I turned on lights, and drug the many racks of Halloween costumes outside onto the back patio, as I fed the fish in the fish tank and lit some incense. He was carrying a baby in his arms, and had a little girl with him.

I thought to myself, this guy's had two kids and he can't figure out what to be for Halloween. He wants me, a total stranger, to tell him what he should be.

"How about a Vampire?" I suggested. He shook his head no. "A Zombie? The Devil? A Gorilla? An Evil Surgeon? A Roman Emperor? A Police Officer? A Fireman? A Caveman? A Warlock?" I continued to make suggestions, and he continued to shake his head no.

He finally settled on the Gorilla costume. "Do you think it will be too hot and itchy?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, no...I'm sure it will be fine," I told him. It was by far our hottest and itchiest costume. "All sales are final," I told him as he left.

People ask you what they should be for Halloween, but they themselves don't really want to know.

Rancho Tarzanadu: Manuel

Manuel (pronounced man-u-el...like a book you study, a manual) came to Rancho Tarzanadu years ago by way of Miss Linda's father, whom he met at the Van Nuys flying field for hobby plane enthusiasts. They took to each other immediately and became fast friends. Miss Linda's father had been studying Spanish, and wanted to practice what he was learning with a native speaker, so he would spend hours at a time talking with Manuel about Politics, World War II, the engine of his 1964 grey Pontiac, the best method for frying chicken, and various assorted other topics. They also took to playing lengthy games of chess for hours that sometimes carried into days (with breaks for meals, sleep, and bathing). These chess matches usually involved large quantities of Scotch on the rocks and grilled steaks.

Manuel was from an unspecified locale, or rather one that kept changing, specifically. Miss Linda had overheard him, over the years, tell various and sundry different people that he was from Spain, Mexico, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Argentina, Costa Rica, Venezuela, and Paraguay. Miss Linda never challenged him when she overheard him telling someone that he was from somewhere other that where he had said he was from the last time. She was sceptical of Manuel, but she also found him disturbingly charming. She was wary of him, but he annoyingly grew on her. His company made her father very happy, and her father was aging, so she wanted him to be happy. Manuel seemed harmless enough, although it did appear to her as if he was running from something. The background of his life was always changing and shifting, but the stories of his family remained constant, and he held great love for his family, whom he stayed in contact with, although they, too, were spread out all over the globe, and not always reachable by phone or internet.

A couple of years before Miss Linda's father died, he built Manuel a guesthouse on the half-acre of land on the hill below their house. Miss Linda's mother agreed to this because she had come to think of Manuel as a son. Although he didn't help out much around the house, he did sit in the kitchen for long periods of time while Miss Linda's mother would prepare delicious meals from her Southern Heritage cookbook. Manuel would enjoy a beer and possibly be persuaded to snap some beans or shell some peas while he chattered and snacked on hors d'oeuvres. He didn't do much yard work, either, but would stroll for hours in the backyard, seemingly deep in thought. He would examine growing things in minute detail, and capture strange looking bugs in glass jars to ponder, then let go, unharmed. He would talk to the animals and secretly feed the squirrels table scraps. Miss Linda's mother felt safer with a younger man on the property, and found his antics endearing. When she moved in with her new husband after Miss Linda's father had died, she made it clear to Miss Linda that Manuel would be staying on in the guest house, indefinitely. Miss Linda found this annoying, but reluctantly agreed, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. They would have separate quarters, after all, so it couldn't be that bad having him around.

Miss Linda would never have called herself 'Miss Linda', but Manuel started calling her that the day he met her, and the name stuck. She sometimes wondered if he called her that out of affection or irritation. Since she was moving in to the main house, she also wondered if he resented her returning  to her childhood home. She brushed these thoughts aside when they arose...why should she care what Manuel thought of her? If anything, she should resent him for weaseling his way in to her family! Although she couldn't help admit that she actually did like him herself. He was a charmer. And he seemed to have a gentle, kind heart. He made friends with her three cats, and one of them even took to sleeping in his guest house with him. This upset her slightly, but also made her trust him. He had charmed her scaredy-cat, the little grey striped tiger kitten she found in an alley, abandoned.

Manuel self-described himself as the 'Majordomo' of the house. He tended to wear a maroon colored smoking jacket, or military fatigues for some unexplained reason, but these were his clothes of choice. Miss Linda just rolled her eyes, shook her head, and went about her own business. In her own mind she thought of Manuel as the live-in house servant, although she realized quickly after she had moved back in that he didn't actually do much work. When she noticed something was broken or needed fixing around the house or property, she would ask Manuel to take care of it, and he would then hire someone to fix the thing and present her with the bill afterward.

Miss Linda and Manuel were very close in age (he was exactly one and a half years older than her) so they developed a brother-sister like way of squabbling and pushing each other's buttons. They also genuinely enjoyed each other's company, and would frequently take their meals together, listen to records, and have cocktails on the veranda at sunset on most evenings. She, like her father and mother, took to Manuel fairly quickly once she spent some quality time with him, despite her reservations. They became close companions and confidantes.

When Miss Linda told Manuel of her plan to take on borders to bring in extra money, he was against the idea at first, but when she explained that it was necessary to kept Rancho Tarzanadu afloat in these trying times and a way to stay there without actually having to work themselves, Manuel took a good look around his guest house and came to the conclusion that she was right. He solemnly vowed to her that he would protect her and keep things running smoothly on the property and with the new borders. Miss Linda thanked him, rolled her eyes, and went to place the ad.

It was time to start interviewing tenants.

Rancho Tarzanadu: How Rancho Tarzanadu Came to Be

Miss Linda (pronounced 'Mees Leenda') had come to the conclusion that she was in dire straits. It was time to take action.

She lived in her family home, the one she had been brought back to when she was born. Her parents had purchased the house in 1959 'for a song'. Her father had insisted on buying a house in the hills, with a beautiful view overlooking the San Fernando Valley. The house also overlooked the El Caballero Country Club, of whom none of the family was ever a member. Her father, who grew up on a cattle ranch in Texas, preferred to golf at the less expensive public courses. Her father, to put it nicely, was extremely frugal.

Miss Linda was brought back to the house when she was born in March of 1966. She was greeted by a white cat named Breathless, who guarded her crib as if he was on patrol.

Miss Linda's father was a fighter pilot in World War II (The Big One). His plane was shot down in New Guinea, and he survived there for three weeks in the jungle, contracting gangrene from a machete wound (his own, accidentally), but he survived. When he was discovered, he begged for his leg to be amputated because it hurt so badly, but the doctors wouldn't listen to him. He kept his leg, and was later glad that he did. After the war, he put himself through college, obtaining a Master's Degree from UCLA as an Electrical Engineer. He was hired by Hughes Aircraft, where he worked for forty years, until he retired. He worked on several 'Top Secret' assignments that he would never discuss with anyone. He would drive, or fly, to secret locations and be gone for days at a time. He was forty-four when Miss Linda was born, and seventy-nine years old when he died, in his den, at the house. His ashes were buried in the backyard, which was always his very favorite place to be. Miss Linda was heartbroken at losing him, as she had always been 'Daddy's Girl', his only child.

Miss Linda's mother was raised on a Tennessee farm with four brothers and one sister. Miss Linda's grandmother used to wring the necks of the chickens that she would later cook for dinner. She had a sick chicken at one time with something literally 'stuck in its craw' and she pinned the chicken down, gave it a shot of whiskey (so the story goes), sliced it's craw open, took out the damaging elements, then sewed the craw back together. The next day, the chicken was fine and laying regular eggs again. Miss Linda's grandfather was a preacher-man, and had various other odd jobs as well. Miss Linda's mother grew up very poor, but she married well, three times (four times if you count the time she married her first husband twice, but Miss Linda's mother does not like to discuss this and conveniently leaves it out when speaking to most people, or changes the subject if it is brought up). Miss Linda's mother is beautiful, has always been beautiful, except for a gawky childhood stage at one point. Her skin is like velvet, and she has a heart of gold. She can also be very shrewd, however, and practical. She can see through bullshit from a mile away, a trait that she has passed on to her daughter. Miss Linda's mother got remarried three years after Miss Linda's father died, and found true love at the age of seventy-eight to a man two years her Junior. Miss Linda's mother asked her if she would like to move into the family home because she was gong to move in with her new husband, who had lived in the hills of Pasadena for the last forty years and didn't want to leave his house, which overlooked the Rose Bowl. Miss Linda said she would be a fool not to move in to the family home, and made plans immediately for the move and started packing. She had recently been laid off from her job of nine years, at an Advertising Specialty Company, and was grateful for the move on several different levels. It was her 'Tara', and she had returned home to where she had been brought back to when she was born, where her father had died, and where his ashes were buried. Her half-sister and half-brother could not understand her attachment to the house, but Miss Linda did not know how she could express it any clearer. It was part of her, and she was part of it.

Her specific problem at this moment was money, as is the problem with many. She was in the process of figuring out how to stay in this beautiful house for the rest of her life, and be able to pay for everything like house taxes and insurance, property upkeep, the gardener, the pool man, the utilities, clearing of the half-acre of land below the house, etc. She was presently studying to become a Massage Therapist, as she had always enjoyed working with 'energy', but until her new career took off, she had to come up with some sort of a plan.

The economy had just crashed. Badly. Depression-era badly.

She decided that the quickest solution to her problem would be to take on boarders. She reluctantly placed an ad.

She decided that another solution would be to rent out her beautiful property for events, such as archery lessons, dance lessons, kung-fu, pagan rituals, prenatal yoga classes, weddings, bar-mitzvahs, film shoots, puppet shows, etc.

Miss Linda would not relinquish her family home. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

And so, 'Rancho Tarzanadu' was born. A boarding house for certain few (who could pay regularly). And an Events Rental when the bills were coming up short. A get-away spot. A retreat. A refuge.

Little did she know that the house was sitting on top of a magical vortex, and was unique and highly prized by many beyond her realm or capacities of understanding at this present time. She was about to embark on a journey, however, that would lead her straight into the eye of the hurricane.

All Miss Linda knew is that she would never give up her home.

The Show Must Go On

'The Show Must Go On' made by Linda Benskin at Doll Parts Art.

Wallflower

'Wallflower' made by Linda Benskin at Doll Parts Art.

After School Playground

'After School Playground' made by Linda Benskin at Doll Parts Art.

Live or Die

'Live or Die', made by Linda Benskin at Doll Parts Art.

Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar

'Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar', made by Linda Benskin at Doll Parts Art.

Here is 'Alchemy', the latest video from Red Felt Heart. It's a little tale about the powers of attraction, and the light and dark aspects of love.

Let's Do Lunch!

When meeting someone for a business lunch, it is important to be on time and prepared for the meeting. There is work involved before the meeting takes place; to find out what my lunch companion prefers to eat and if they have any dietary restrictions. I want to choose a place to eat where they will be comfortable and feel relaxed.

I need to show up prepared with what I want to present to them, and have all my information organized so it will be easy and enjoyable to hear what I have to say while they eat their delicious meal.

I need to be prepared to pick up the tab if I am the one who initiated the meeting with them.

If I am in the mood for a cocktail, I will order a non-alcoholic beverage if my companion is drinking tea or juice. I will let them place their order first, and if they don’t know what they want, yet, I will order something inoffensive, like lemonade. It’s possible my companion may have had a traumatic experience with lemons in their past and I just don’t know it, so the best choice may be to just order water. It may be a very boring lunch.

I will do my best to be at my best, and show up well-rested and well-groomed. It may be best not to wear strong perfume, as my companion may be allergic to it. I should also make sure that I don’t have cat hair on my clothing (I have three cats at home) so that doesn’t cause an allergic reaction, either. I should refrain from smoking cigars or joints after lunch, unless my companion offers me one.

I will listen patiently and feign interest if my companion runs off at the mouth, tells long, boring stories, or answers a million cell phone calls during our meeting. I will smile and be gracious and polite. I will do my best not to stare off into space, drum my fingers on the tabletop, play with the silverware or pick my nose at the table. If I have to burp, I will do it quietly, and say, “Pardon me!”

I need to be engaging and charming, without overdoing it and being obnoxious, irritating, or pushy. I need to make small talk in a casual and natural manner, and ask my companion lots of questions to keep them engaged, without getting too personal. Unless my companion makes a pass at me first, I will refrain from making a pass at them. I will look at their wedding ring finger and if there is a ring on it I will refrain from going to a hotel room with them after the business meeting, unless they specify that they are in an ‘open relationship’ and this information can be verified by their spouse.

I will make a follow-up call after the business meeting to check in and let them know that I really enjoyed our meeting, and hope that we can do lots of business together in the future.