Holidays

A Hometown Halloween

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

I, Mark Aldrich, have only one hometown, and that hometown, Poughkeepsie, NY, was voted Halloween Central in 2013 by a major little-known Canadian institute. One could say that this is a big deal. It isn’t, but one could say it …

* * * *
The Martin Prosperity Institute released what it called its third “annual survey” of Halloween in America back in 2013. The Institute did not produce a fourth or any subsequent sequel to this seminal study of all things creepy, ghostly, and scary, and in 2019, the MPI itself closed up shop altogether. It’s now a ghost, itself. Perhaps the MPI accomplished its mission when everyone named Martin was discovered to be prosperous. Or in an institute.

On reflection, it is likely that my hometown broke the Martin Prosperity Institute, which I will explain.

The Institute’s 2013 in-depth look at the field of Halloween enjoyment, a study not undertaken by most people older than say, eight, led to many national news articles that expressed shock at its conclusion, which was this: the best place to enjoy Halloween in the United States of America is Poughkeepsie, New York.

If this was true in 2013, it may very well be true tonight, Halloween 2024.
Read More

2024: The Story So Far

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

A rumor went around recently that I had died. At first I thought, “Why hadn’t anyone contacted me to ask?” but then I realized how silly it would be to call a dead person and inquire if he is dead.

* * * *
I learned yesterday that I am not dead. This was not news to me, as my Sunday morning activities carried most of the evidence of a living human life as lived by me: I was frustrated once again by one of my local coffeeshops.

A question/rant before I continue: Is the overfilling of take-out coffee orders something local to where I reside, or is this a new practice at coffeeshops everywhere?

Some months ago I noticed that at the moment the large or venti paper coffee cup is placed gently in my hand by a genial server and I turn around to leave the counter area, this minimal movement of my body converts the venti into a grande as the scalding hot coffee douses my hand through the hole in the plastic lid—even with a plastic stopper installed by the genial server. This started to happen to me (or for me, to make something positive out of it) at multiple coffeeshops here and in other local cities last autumn. Coffeeshops have started to fill cups close to the top and then add cream to bring the whole thing to the top. Last week, I inaugurated a new practice: I would ask with my out-loud voice if the server would please not overfill or would please dump out some of the coffee rather than fill it to the rim. For non-scientific purposes, I report to you that this has worked one out of two times so far, and yesterday was not that time.

I knew I was alive because my hand was scalded and smelled like a medium roast, but I did not know that I am not dead until I was told.
Read More

A Valentine’s Day Knockout

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

It was as if every wish I had made in childhood for a hole in the ground to open up and rescue me had been answered in reverse …

* * * *
I bear a scar from the first Valentine’s Day that I had a reason to celebrate as Valentine’s Day, as a part of a couple.

Until the last decade, my romantic history was a long walk alone in an empty field, punctuated by moments in which I interrupted someone else’s walk, attempted to try a relationship, and discovered that I try people’s patience instead. (All the women I have dated are brilliant and accomplished and I was lucky to get to know them; I was stuck at age fifteen for an astonishingly long time, however.)
Read More