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I'm not sure why the post below has huge spaces between each paragraph. I edited, and fixed it all, but every time I hit "publish", it appears with all these spaces. One of those odd computer problems I guess.

A babbling 60's train of thought.

I love October. I'm not sure if it's because it's my birthday month, or what, but something about this month makes me feel all, don't know how to explain it, all...cozy and comfy.
My mom always used to say about October: "Shuffle, shuffle, move along...sing a sad October song." She said it as we walked through leaves, meaning that the leaves should be singing this sad song, the end of the line for them. I 'm not sure if she made it up, or if it was part of an old poem or song. When we walk in the woods at this time of year, and the leaves are yellow and red and orange, and crispy on the ground, I think of her, and murmur this as I walk.

Like a squirrel that instinctively gathers nuts for sustenence through the upcoming winter, I gather books. I haunt the second hand book stores, the wonderful annual Library Book sale in late September, use up the last of any gift certificates at the sale tables in Coles and pile them in my room, tantalizing to look at...knowing that I have reading materials to last me during the blowing, blizzardly winter weather.

And now I have my Kindle! I've been downloading the odd free book and many of the .99 ones, and "saving" them to read too...perfect during power outages because my Kindle Cover has a built in light. Oooh, I can curl up with a blanket in the dark and read to my hearts content. I am ready for the Apocalypse. Or winter. Or even a nuclear winter for that matter, which is my favorite type of book. Ahhh, synchronicity.

Speaking of nuclear winter, this makes me think of another favorite topic of mine. No, not nuclear war...well, actually, yeah, kinda that.

The 60's. I have such an obsession for the 60's. Maybe because I grew up then, my "formative" years were during the 60's, and it was such a churning and tumultuous decade. In the early 60's, the world was still naive, the wars were over, the future was bright, I really believe it was the last of the tranquil and unagitated times.

Then, on October 14, 1962 (October 14...my birthday...did you know that William the Conqueror invaded England on October 14th? The year 1066. My mom taught me to remember it this way: "In 1066, the Normans got their kicks" He was William of Normandy then. But, as they say, I digress)

So, an American U2 pilot flew a "regular" reconnaissance photo mission over Cuba, and to his, and the rest of the worlds horror, the pictures clearly showed Soviet missiles on Cuban soil. They were armed with nuclear warheads and aimed towards the US.

The next 13 days became the closest that the world has ever come to nuclear annihilation. I guess it was my parents generations 9/11. Not to compare the deaths of 9/11 to this, but to compare the feeling of terror imposed upon one nation by another. And the feeling of being helpless.I don't think that today's generation realizes how terrifying it really was.

We had air raid drills all day long. The sirens would suddenly shriek that ear shattering noise, "Duck & cover!" you'd hear the teachers yell, and children would drop to their knees, crouched under a desk, hands on the back of the neck, eyes closed...waiting, waiting, waiting for the roar of the bomb, and the bright flash of light that would basically mean the end of the world as we knew it. Was it a drill? Or was it real...we held our breath and waited....Can you imagine that happening in today's schools? Parents would surely sue for trauma caused to their sensitive child. Or they'd keep their children at home. But you know, this was our way, this was what we did. These drills had been going for for quite a few years prior, but now there was a real sense of urgency.

If we were at home when the sirens went, we'd have to grab our bag of stuff, which was at the front door and run to your assigned bunker. I vaguely recall ours being one of the plane hangers, but I'm sure it wasn't since the runway and the hangers would be what the bombs were heading towards. I should explain that we lived across the street from the runway. Outside our front door was our small yard, then the road, and then the base runway. My parents are gone now, so I can't ask them where it was we actually ran to. Our basement was stocked with canned water (yes boys and girls, canned water...there was no plastic bottled water back then) and canned goods.

The TV was always on... and even at my young age, I knew who JFK was, and I knew to be quiet when my parents watched him speak on TV.

"We have enough missiles to blow you up 30 times over."

~John F Kennedy, President of the United States.

"We have enough to blow you up only once, but that will be enough for us."
~Nikita Khrushchev, First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

After the 13 days were over, after two weeks of intense and secret negotiations between the US and the Soviet Union, the Soviets agreed to remove their missiles from Cuba in exchange for a promise from the US not to invade Cuba. In addition, and in secret, the US agreed to remove their long standing missiles from an American airbase in Turkey. These were too close to the Soviet Union for their (the Soviet Unions) comfort.

*Whew* There. It was over, although the Cold War reigned for another 27 years before the Berlin Wall came down and the Cold War was officially over.

And then the following year, just over a year from the end of the Cuban Missile Crisis, came the end of Camelot. November 22, 1963. JFK shot in Dallas. I remember being sent home from school, not really sure what was happening and why all the grown-ups were crying. My mom explained to me that JFK had died, but I can't recall if she told me that he had been shot.

Don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot,

for one brief shining moment

that was known as Camelot"

Those were two huge events in my life, and I was so young that they made a big impression upon me, I remember those days so clearly. Maybe that's why I have such an affinity for the 60's. And the movies! How could I forget about all the movies about the 60's!? My favorite genre...movies that take place in the 60's, usually a "coming of age" theme, jumping back and forth from "present day" to the 60's is a plus, and a voice-over is a huge plus. Some of the best?

-Stand by Me (of course, that must be #1 on everyone's list. If it isn't on your list, gee, I have my doubts about our friendship)

-Mermaids (Whoa...Cher and Winona Ryder? Can't beat that combo)

-A Perfect World

-Now and Then (that missed the 60's by a year...but that's close enough)

-Pleasantville

-The Outsiders (Pony Boy!)

-Cry Baby (Johnny Depp....)

-Hairspray.

-Ed Wood (kinda one of the worst movies ever made, but also one of my favorites)

-The Sandlot.

-Dirty Dancing (of course that goes without saying...)

-Peggy Sue Got Married.

-The Secret Life of Bees.

I could go on and on. I guess if I could be stuck in Time, I'd have to choose the 60's.

To sleep, perchance to dream....

I don't read self help books. Maybe I should, but that's a whole different blog. I do, however, read excerpts from them in magazines, and one thing that I have always thought was a great idea was to have a pen and some paper right beside your bed so that you can jot things down in the middle of the night. They say, these self help people, that you can solve many problems this way, your inner self, during that deep REM sleep, gives you answers to your troubles. Pshaw, I don't believe that, because in my REM sleep, I am pretty sure that I have been solving all sort of world crisis's. Really. Pretty darn sure. I wake up, simply astounded at how simple it is to solve various world problems, from truly serious ones like famine to other less serious (but equally important) ones like how to make a better plastic bag that doesn't cut the circulation off in your wrist when you carry 2 or 3 at a time so that when you get across the parking lot to your vehicle, your fingers aren't curled up like a claw, and all numb. The thing is, when I wake up with these solutions, I repeat them to myself and I am always so sure that I'll remember them in the morning, that I don't bother to write them down. Of course, when morning arrives, there is nothing left in my brain but some fuzzy memory. So a few weeks ago, I decided "Enough. If I should die tomorrow, the world will have lost a plethora of simply fascinating information, all because I am too forgetful/lazy to grab a pen and paper and put them beside my bed." So I did. I gathered a nice pen, some pretty paper and set them on my nighttable. Each night as I woke up, breathless with my discoveries, I'd write them down and fall back asleep, secure in the knowledge that the worlds troubles will soon be gone. Or at least made easier.

Would you like to know the secrets of the Universe? The things that appear in my mind in the middle of the night, information from the Dream Gods?

This is what was written, one thing each night for 10 days.

1. Time Management. Save several valuable seconds. Can't miss, but did.

2. Life Insurance, fiancial planning and order a PPV movie.

3. If I were Prime Minister...Mother Nature vs Mother Earth.

4. Conversation of the old style, no rolling eyeballs.

5. Personal affront about recomending a good book. We don't read the same.

6. Why do you never see real hippies anymore?

7. I feel totally confident of my ability to shape destiny.

8. It's all about the tigers.

9. Change the light, not just the bulb.

10. If it's in the soup, it's ok for everyone.

So. There you go. Problem solved. Or not. Number 7 makes me think I might have a touch of megalomania, and number 9 is kind of Buddhist. As soon as I figure it all out, I'll let you know. I'm sure my dreams will show me the way.

Thanksgiving.

Every year about this time the same question arises. "What's the difference between Canadian Thanksgiving and the American one?"

I guess the main thing is the date. The Americans celebrate in November, and give thanks to the pilgrims who arrived in the 1600's and blew up a pig bladder and tossed it around while they waited for the women to try and stuff a turkey. They must have, why else would football and the Thanksgiving turkey dinner be so synonymous in the US?

Here in Canada, Thanksgiving takes place the second Monday in October. We all exchange the secret NHL handshake to celebrate the upcoming hockey season. And there is no mention of pilgrims.

The Americans have the famous Macy's Day Parade, complete with huge balloon creatures that collapse on unwary revellers, in turn sending them to the litigious lawyers, who are, of course, giving Thanks for this parade.

Canadians give a secret NHL handshake and rush off to Canadian Tire to see what's new in this years line of snow blowers, then head to Timmie's for some Timbits.

Americans travel from wherever they are, to be home for this feast. They sleep in airports, they stress for weeks about getting time off to go home, they hitch rides with complete strangers just so they can burst through the front door just as Father is sadly bemoaning the fact that one seat shall remain empty (I know this to be true, I see it on Hallmark Hall of Fame specials every year)

Canadians rejoice in the fact that it's a three day weekend and give a secret NHL handshake as they watch the final pre-season games. Some will even cheer "Go Leafs Go!", a sad and futile hope, but they hope nonetheless.

Americans have their turkey dinner on the Monday. I think it might be the law. There seems to be quite a frenzy of shopping and preparing and deciding if they should make Grandma's Traditional Stuffing or Aunt Ethel's Cranberry-Chestnut Stuffing or sometimes they even make an Oyster Stuffing! It's true!

There's no specific day in Canada to eat, any of the three days are equally as acceptable to have your turkey. And actually, a lot of people have ham. I think that might be punishable with jail time in the US. And by the way, it is stuffing, not dressing. You don't "dress" the turkey, you "stuff" it. And not with cornbread either.

And our Prime Minister doesn't "pardon" a turkey. Seriously, what the hell is that all about? "Ummm...ok, let's all get together and watch the President pardon a turkey, then we'll all go home and eat the other slaughtered ones." How does that even fit in with a holiday in which you eat turkey??

But, we all give thanks. And I give thanks (even though it's too early for Thanksgiving, even for a Canadian) that I live in a country where I can make fun of another country (and it's all tongue in cheek) and I don't have to worry about being tossed in prison over it. Oh Canada.