I'm a little melancholy today. My parents weren't very religious but but they did religiously celebrate Easter. No matter what or where there was always at least a card for me even after I had gone away to college, and when I was young, I got an Easter basket (made by mom, not store bought) or a stuffed animal. On the air base in Panama I remember going to the officer's club for Sunday brunch. Usually this called for a new dress or lace tights and mom and I would wear hats. Dad wore a springy dress uniform.
Back in New York there would be dinner with the Wilkins and dad would roast a lamb, a ham, a turkey or a fresh ham -- sometimes all of the above! There would be dyed eggs and I would search the house and the yard.
So much nostalgia-- I guess cause I'm sick this weekend and couldn't make the choco-roonies. And mom and dad aren't here...
Here's a little more Easter memorabilia...
Still, happily, I have an invite to dinner and many wonderful memories to resurrect!
Funny thing--when I typed "f" in the header for Fear the auto-function wrote "family". A perfect introduction to this link to my Horror blog that I set up for my New School summer class, To Die For: The American Horror Film 1968-1970. In horror films snooping around in strange places can have dire consequences and in my case, I made the unfortunate decision to WRITE THE BLOG IN (AN)OTHER PLATFORM! Ohh, the horror of trying to format the layout or change the size of the typeface! AHHH,the stabbing pain in my eyes as I tried to quickly design a HEADER! Imagine my screams as I had to Rip away all of the content and then...SOMEHOW LOST IT!!
So, here is the bloody, skeletal corpse of my blog which you will notice has no text! I will fill the posts back in asap. Fact is, I've been neglecting all of my blogging--that's where the family plot comes in perhaps and it has been a rough year. Perfect time for a horror film class which helps to sort out some demons--and you can sit in the dark...with strangers!
Fear of Fear (not the film by my own RWF--which is one of my absolute favorites!) but the Roosevelt kind of fear. I'm taking the class in part to overcome my fear of the the fear that may result from my watching the horror genre. Many of the films we have seen in class are films that I grew up with in the 70's and was not allowed to view. They were forbidden to me, for my own mental safety I suppose but I would hear of them, hear them described, see them advertised and overhear of the extreme reactions (in the cases of The Exorcist and The Amityville Horror) of totally freaked-out audiences. I was almost crippled with the fear of how scared I would be by these movies. My imagination just filled, filled, filled in the rest...
The clip below (which is the masthead for my H-blog) scared the BEJESUS outta me! When we returned to New York from Panama we moved into an apartment in the ever terrifying Yonkers. I saw this show open on our tiny black & white TV (I've got a good Wizard of Oz tale about the tv) while sitting on the couch with the family and some friends one Saturday evening and started screaming like TCM's Sally!
For years(?) I afraid to be in the proximity of the tv or to change channels near the hours of what, 8pm? lest my eyes fall upon this gruesome site/sight!
Our chic and charming family friend, Tuskeegee Airmen and black media visionary, Percy Sutton has passed.
He had a way with words and was quite prescient and entertaining in this little clip that reminds me of business trips with dad (aka: vacations!) and life amidst black executives/politicians in the 1970s.
A lurked upon facebook conversation reminded me of this song I love by Soupy Sales!
Pakalafaka used to play on the Dr. Demento Radio Show and I recorded it one afternoon with my dad's dictation tape recorder standing in the kitchen in New Rochelle. Must have been Jr. High School. Between songs on the tape were my screams for silence in the house!
Sing right along!
Pachalafaka, pachalafaka They whisper it all over Turkey Pachalafaka, pachalafaka It sounds so romantic and perky Oh, I know that phrase will make me thrill always For it reminds me of you, my sweet just the mention of that tender word of love gives my heart a jerkish, Turkish beat
I won't say c'est bon or l'amour toujours For they can't express what I'm feeling Even maresydoats or other foreign quotes don't seem to be quite so appealing But pachalafaka! pachalafaka! takes me back with you to passionate desert scenes and it's there we'll stay till the very day we find out what pachalafaka means
