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Show PAGE 8 THE ZEPHYRNOVEMBER 1995 Subject to Change By Cherie Gilmore Autumn, with its dried com husks rustling a ghostly music from the backyard garden patch. Autumn, with the breeze lifting the aspen leaves in a lazy dance earthward. Autumn, the mildest, most perfect season the healing calm after summer's relentless blaze, the golden days before winter's frozen touch. But wait, there's more. The fat tire festival; deer hunting season; campaign speeches and the sudden and sure knowledge that for the next eternity of Monday nights your spouse will not speak except to yell, "No,no! He had control! It's a fumble! - Packers' ball, you idiot!" Yes, Packers. Hey, it could happen. Anyway, all of this, on balance, pretty much works itself out so the good stuff still overrides the negatives. And then it hits. You go to the store at 6:30 p.m. on Hallow'een because, of course, you finished off the Fun Size Snickers sometime last week and now have nothing There is, equally predictably, no candy left in the for the store except those horrid little black and orange taffy pieces. (Remember how you loved them as a child?!) Don't grocery store managers know this will happen? Don't they remember last year? Dton't they have spouses? Perhaps they have better hiding places. In your haste to find a place to put the blame and absolve your sick and gluttonous self, you almost run into Santa Qaus. Yes, all lit up, bowing and turning, lifting his mechanical arm and saying, "Ho, ho, ho", right here on Halloween between the empty candy shelves and the meat department. After the initial shock and muttered apologies, you realize that this too has its up side. Sure enough, just down the aisle you find the nice man unpacking boxes of Christmas candy, bags and bags of Snickers, festooned in happy red and green bows and bells and wreaths. It's dark, the kids will never know'. It beats black taffy. Purchases completed, you drive home feeling very...festive. The sight of all the tiny ghosts and Power Rangers is intertwined with thoughts of the holiday season which will begin tomorrow at dawn. Ah yes, joyful music wafting through malls, the first glistening snowfall, the lights, the parties. You try to block the thought before it can hit you full force. But there it is: The Family Get Togethers. In a normal year there is time to psychologically prepare yourself for trick-or-treate- rs. this darkest of holiday traditions. But tonight it caught you off guard. All because of those damn Snickers. You really shouldn t be driving in this state of mind. Just weeks away Thanksgiving. No one will notice the food. It will serve only as a backdrop for the inevitable political analyses. Bright, witty assessments of our President' s performance, ranging from his hair style to his wife's legs. This goes back to the days of Reagan's first term and the comments have really not changed. These are people who voted for Nixon but hate George Bush and President Clinton with equal intensity. As well as their wives' legs. It boggles the mind. This inevitably gives way to the theological discussions. This is where it really gets too ugly to share with people w'ho have not had the kind of professional training that would enable them to deal with all the ramifications, psychological and otherwise. Suffice it to say that the holidays are especially good to window repairmen in my neck of the woods. So that covers Thanksgiving. By the second week of December, things have worked themselves out. Except for those family members who w'ere unfortunate enough to be unable to find a remote cabin in w'hich to spend their Christmas. For them, it is simply a case of choices. The easiest is to agree to the of course unspoken suggestion that no one brings up religion, politics, Greenpeace, loggers or legs ever again. And it usually w'orks. For the first 30 minutes. Then there's the "swine flu" option. A good one unless you have a truly determined family with a penchant for grand sacrifices. When they show up, prepared to brave the deadliest germs just to see you, and find you dancing on the newly repaired table, things can get awkward. It is with all these options dancing in your head that you arrive home. You won't share your thoughts with your spouse. Let him enjoy a few more days of ignorant bliss. And then he spots the Snickers. The festive wrappings, the Christmas colors. He goes deathly pale. He gets that hunted look in his eyes. Soon the hands will begin to shake. He's remembering. When he is calmer he will find his little box of travel brochures, Trekking the Australian Outback", "Sailing the South Pacific", "Discovering the Russian Steppes". Fine choices, all of them. But surely there's someone out there with a boring little house who would like to exchange it for a boring little house in Ogden, Utah. Just for a week or so. Around the holidays? - Lodging Good food RV Hookups Gas & Groceries Pool Table Piano In the quietest, most beautiful setting imaginable. ON UTAH HIGHWAY 95 BETWEEN NATURAL BRIDGES & HITE CROSSING (801) 259-533- 4 The old entrance road to Arches National Monument. "A country inn disguised as a classic Southern Utah outpost i L 1959. |
