Yesterday was a very full day beginning with a long walk with Madigan along Brunette River where the salmon are running. This morning I saw the Kingfisher, my personal ‘blue bird of happiness’. Dead fish lie on the banks of the river pleasing the birds no end. Madigan, which means ‘little dog’ in Gaelic,was very interested but also afraid of the dead fish we inspected. Gilbert, my previous Cockapoo, would have been madly rolling in the carcass. I can live with Madigan’s reticence.
It was a beautiful Autumn morning, golds and greens and oranges with occasional red leaves. A cacophony of colour!
It’s the time of the year where the realm of the living and the realm of those who have passed over are closest. No surprise we dream of deceased relatives and have all manner of uncanny other worldly experiences this time of year. Late teens the autumn seances were particularly ‘moving’, Ouigi boards and young passion. Candlelight and darkness. I was involved with the Theosophical Society one fall and enjoyed their openness and enthusiasm. Guy Madden’s My Winnipeg, a classic in it’s own right mentions the seances at the Manitoba Legislature with Premiers and prostitutes. The prostitutes had streets named after them that remain today.
Leaving Madigan with his bone I proceeded to the hot tub thanks to having 2 Pfeiser vaccinations and the BC government vaccination card. The hot tub, though still without jets, was awesome. I even swam 14 lengths which would be widths in a regular pool. Walking in shorts and just a towel a woman outside said, “You’re brave!” The air was still chilly. I showered and shampooed and conditioned my hair with the ‘special’ blue shampoo and healing scalp conditioner my Chatters hairdresser insisted I use. It cost enough that I believe it must be producing the new hair, I truly need. Mine is disappearing with age but what I have I now flaunt. I simply love the grey blond effect she’s achieved giving me the illusion of youth in my concerted refusal to age now that I’m finally old. I can’t believe I ever wanted this but then I’m not sure I’d have anything different. Perhaps a life supply of Botox, a facelift and possibly a new identity. I love Leonard Cohen’s song Lover, Lover, “I want a new face”.
Halloween is a time for masquerade so I began the process of dressing in the afternoon. I remember as kids we dressed up as different characters. One year my aunt having travelled to Cairo sent me an Igal, the Arab Head ring that is used with the Keffieh. That became the basis of my Halloween costume that year and for several years I wore it at Christmas in the Baptist church nativity plays. I was a ‘headdress’ in for a Shepherd given I had the costume. When I was growing up the kid with the Igal and Kefieh got the shepherd role just like the kid with the goalie pads got to be goalie.
As an young adult I remember a particularly cold Halloween in Winnipeg when I wore a white bedsheet as a diapers and sucked soothers between sips of scotch which was definitely needed to warm me up.
It was late seventies when. Paul Tyzek, the famed Winnipeg Photographer and Artist, took his first pictures of the theatre sign for the first showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show. The British play had debuted in 1973 and the film opened in New York in 1975. Paul invited me along for his late night shooting. Somewhere in storage I still own a copy of one of those pictures featuring him as photographer in front of the theatre definitely ahead of his time in Winnipeg. Famed Science Fiction writer, William Gibson, created a character in one of his books who like Paul had an uncanny capacity for originality. Unfortunately with all originals, one step ahead of the crowd you’re a leader, two steps ahead of the crowd you’re a martyr.
Now it’s many Rocky Horror Show Pictures later in which I have gone to the theatre in imitation of Dr. Frank N. Furton, my favourite character. Not just because I’m a doctor. I adapted old black see through witches costume for first audience participation and each year brought that witches costume out. Coupling it with Goth makeup, fishnets and high heeled boots I had a sufficient imitation. I certainly wasn’t mistaken for Magenta or Columbia. I even remembered confetti, squirt gun and newspaper on occasion. I confess I was more often just struggling with walking in high heels and being in costume to give much attention to other details until I was thankful to take my seat and join with the other cult followers in shouting “Asshole’ and “Slut’” on cue. It really was a riot.
This year it was at the Rio again. The late night showing was however too daunting. I had thoughts of going. I was better dressed having lost the witches costume some decade ago. Instead I made it to near by Dune. I was definitely the only Goth punk transvestite at that show but no less welcome. I think cross dressing for Halloween in Vancouver is no longer considered anything but conventional. If you look particularly awful,at most people think you’ve been shopping at Walmart.
I had earlier in the evening,wearing my long leather jacket, makeup and bodice, ridden my Vespa with Madigan on the back to the nearby off leash park. (That chilly ride made the thought of riding downtown additionally daunting.) There were at least a half dozen or more dogs with owners standing about talking dogs. Madigan and I were welcomed though Madigan was very shy around the bigger dogs having difficulty going far from my side. He did like a little terrier and a labradoodle but the young black lab mix was having his dominance issues and Madigan huddled between my nylon covered legs. He didn’t care if I was mommy or daddy just demanded famial protection. Meanwhile I was worried about runs in my nylons.
It was a good group though. I left when a new German shepherd and his owner with issues arrived growling. The labradoodle and master followed us out saying “I don’t want to deal with my dog getting bit,.” I certainly wasn’t dressed for a dog fight or more fearing silicone falsies slipping out or breaking painted gel coat nails.
I believe all aggressive men should be required by judges to have a year of wearing painted nails, expensive nylons, and high heels to discourage them from fighting. Repeat offenders could be required to always wear white in addition.
Madigan was glad to get back on the Vespa. After his excitement he was tolerant of me leaving as I headed out on the Vespa, circling the neighbourhood and enjoying seeing groups of little children in various costumes with parents going door to door. I stopped at Begbie’s Tavern for a cranberry and soda, showing my ID and Vaccination pass. Begby’s is a great neighborhood pub reminiscent of the South Putney pub I drank Guinness in when I lived near there in London. Again no one seemed to notice my outlandish and I might say provocative attire. I continued on to Dune at the Coquitlam Cineplex. I loved Heinlen’s Dune, a spectacular show. It ended before the Rocky Horror Picture show even began.
I was home before 12. I did not turn into a pumpkin. Feeling like I was back in theatre I removed my bodice, nylons, jewelry and face paint. I was one tired actor when I fell into bed happy to have the little dog cuddled up beside me. In the night I dreamed I was with my deceased family again waking today happy in the reassurance that we’ll meet again. Samhain. All Saint’s Day. Hallow’s Eve and Halloween.
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