Happy November

It’s a great day for Catholics to remember and revere their preferred holy souls. It’s great for everybody, I say. All Saints Day (once called “All Hallows” day), was the original churchly stimulus for the dark and tricksy slant to the “All Hallows E(v)en(ing)” preceding it, which has grown into the tooth-rotting cuteness of the North American Hallowe’en. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, except when high schoolers exulting in their sexuality and maturity also want to swipe the free candy that should go to small children. And to me.)

Coincidentally, it also was a day for me to repair a rather ragged piece that I had (prematurely) posted to the right in the It’s All About Sports! section. I had never suitably commemorated a passing that I’d been anticipating for years: the death of John Wooden last June. Coach Wooden was the closest thing to a saint that we’re likely to see in the world of sports, a coaching genius and an old-fashioned Christian gentleman and a great and enduring hero of mine since I was 16.

And did you know that National Novel Writing Month started today? It began as a lark by a few friends in San Francisco, California, and now a few hundred thousand people worldwide are going to try to write a 50,000-word novel this month. Tens of thousands will use the month as a carefree, quantity-not-quality way to be able to say: “I wrote a novel!”

Too Old for Treats

The cutest little 5-year-old vegetarian vampire went our marauding our neighbourhood with his Mummy this evening. The teeth were intimidating, but he refused to have any blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, or any threatening makeup. Blonde hair and dimples were unimpeded, the sweetness unalloyed. He carried a UNICEF donation box, for goodness’ sake.

And speaking of that, Count Samuel was the only one I saw collecting for UNICEF the whole night. There’s an idea that seems to have gone the way of McRibs. What I noticed most, apart from the beautiful innocence of the smallest fairies and felines, was more fuel for my annual Hallowe’en rant. I didn’t, again, have the heart to do more than josh and harass them as I dropped chocolate into their pillowcases, but there’s something about teenagers trick-or-treating that gets me growling. Have some self-respect, kideroons…