This morning, I was so thoroughly engrossed in another frightening book,
about how close Donald Trump came to destroying our American democracy,
that I didn't notice Horatio's arrival until he spoke.
"Happy Halloween!", he said. So I looked up from my scary reading
to see my little friend, thespian and sometime model, posed like a rather macabre,
funereal apparition, resembling that of the ghost of an Abe Lincoln-est undertaker.
As I was admiring his holiday spirit, I said that I didn't realize that he was such an
avid enthusiast for the day-of-the-dead celebrations. But he said that, quite to the
contrary, the celebration was such a long tradition in his family that his middle name
was practically Halloween, especially so considering the fact that some of his early
ancestors had come in close contact with witch trials and night terrors. That was
such an intriguing opening, that I asked him to tell me more, as I set aside my terror
reading to pick up a sketchbook and begin a quick study of Horatio Halloween Hamster.
Horatio's tales involved stories passed down from an distant ancestor of his, who
was living frugally in Salem, at the time of the witch trials. He had an apartment in the
attic of the humble home of an old woman of Salem, who lived there with many cats
she had saved from being drowned by the gatophobic villagers. Her rescued felines
included a one eyed cat, a tailless cat, and most incriminating of all, a number of coal,
black cats. To the villagers, that was a sure sign that she was conducting satanic
rituals and casting spells. If anyone had a fall and broke a bone, or became suddenly
ill , they knew who to blame. And if a perfectly good milk-cow suddenly died of no
apparent cause, they knew who to blame. So, they put the old woman on trial for
witchcraft, and they used the torturous, dunking-chair to try and get her to confess,
but the dunking boom broke as they were lowering her into the water. Naturally
the villagers saw this as a sign from God, but they didn't know whether it was
a sign that she was innocent or guilty. So they took a vote and a majority voted
that the sign meant she was innocent, and they set her free. Even so, some of
them decided to burn her house down, so she had to flee from the village to
save her life.
That fire also meant that Horatio's ancestor had to find a new home in a hurry,
and so he took refuge in the attic of the humble home of an old woman, who
raised goats and made cheese from their milk. But during this period of such witch-
hunting hysteria and capraphobia, the woman's goats, with their nearly Satanic,
pointed horns, called suspicion on her as well. Evidence began to mount up
against her. A man who died unexpectedly was known to have eaten some of
the woman's cheese, just two weeks before his death, and another woman
testified that the large, dark furred, goat from the herd, had visited her in the night,
and spoken to her, urging her to participate in Satanic worship. So, the goat lady
could see the hand writing on the wall. She and all her goats disappeared one
night, without a trace of them left behind. Some of the villagers declared that
this was the proof that she had been in league with the Devil himself. And then
the woman who had testified against her, quickly tried to take possession of the
vacated property, only to discover that some religious zealot had already set
it on fire.
At that point in the narration, I said that Horatio's ancestor had been fortunate
to have escaped two such arsonist attacks, and I asked what had become of
him after he fled the second blaze. Horatio replied that the story from then on,
recorded that the lucky escapee had fled to a colony farther to the south,
where he had taken up safe residence above a tavern, which was frequented
by a much less religious and much more tolerant class of people. According
to the family history, he had flourished there, successfully raising a family and
enjoying a lively, nocturnal lifestyle, above the music and laughter of the tavern's
regular patrons.
As I was putting some finishing touches on my drawing, I asked Horatio
whether he was planing to go out for tricks-or-treating later on in the evening.
He replied that he and some of his fellow thespians from the Quadruped
Playhouse were planning to make the rounds of some welcoming homes, to
receive some expected treats. So I asked him if he might be expected to
perform tricks for receiving the treats, he said that he could always do a
recitation of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, since his costume as Abe
Lincoln was apropos.
As Horatio was setting off for his night of frightful fun, I cautioned him
to be wary of all the ghosts and ghouls in the streets. In response, he said
that we need to be more afraid of those who refuse to wear covid masks,
than we are of those wearing Halloween masks.
Horatio's reference to The Gettysburg Address was a reminder of
that famous speech, which so many of us were required to memorize
or recite when we were in school. The idealistic theme of a "government of,
by, and for the people", still remains our goal, but many politicians who
retain power, prefer a government by a select group, primarily for the
benefit of their group. Many of our Republican state legislatures are
busily crafting laws which restrict the voting rights of those they deem to
be of the wrong racial, ethnic or religious heritage. While at the same
time they are imposing their own religious views on all of the women
in their states, telling them what they are not allowed to do with their
own bodies, for their own physical and mental health. We don't have
to look very hard to see who is in league with the Devil on this day-of-
the-dead. All we have to do is look at our Republican legislators.
So enjoy your Halloween, if you can. It's a very ignorant and scary
world out there!
Trick or Treat?
Eugene P. McNerney
