Cock-a-Doodle-Doo, the Colonel’s Coming for You…

That’s right, Chickens, Halloween is upon us. The day each year when it’s fun to be afraid because our fears are fantasies.

My son gave me the ‘REALLY?!?!’ face when I asked him to consider staying home with his family for the holiday.

Family??Holiday???? (cue→face)

But we need to, right? Use every opportunity for community – at home, at work, at school. Day-to-day can be scary. Life can be a real Frankenstein. So let’s claim Halloween as a day to have fun with some fear-fiction, high-fructose-corn-syrup-induced flights of fancy, and good ole’-fashioned playin’ make-believe.

Northern is a spirited community and All Hallow’s Eve festivities abound…be sure to take a few minutes out of your monster-schedule to tune-in and walkabout…it’s hard to know what specters may be seen!

 

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My Halloween treat (trick?) for you (in addition to the awesome Door Prizes we’re giving away in the ASC today)...a poem (no – it isn’t Poe).

All Souls

BY MICHAEL COLLIER

A few of us—Hillary Clinton, Vlad Dracula, Oprah Winfrey, and Trotsky—peer through the kitchen window at a raccoon perched outside on a picnic table where it picks
over chips, veggies, olives, and a chunk of pâte. Behind us others crowd the hallway, many more dance in the living room. Trotsky fusses with the bloody screwdriver puttied to her forehead.
Hillary Clinton, whose voice is the rumble of a bowling ball, whose hands are hairy to the third knuckle, lifts his rubber chin to announce, “What a perfect mask it has!” While the Count
whistling through his plastic fangs says, “Oh,
and a nose like a chef.” Then one by one
the other masks join in: “Tail of a gambler,”
“a swashbuckler’s hips,” “feet of a cat burglar.”
Trotsky scratches herself beneath her skirt
and Hillary, whose lederhosen are so tight they form a codpiece,
wraps his legs around Trotsky’s leg and humps like a dog.
Dracula and Oprah, the married hosts, hold hands
and then let go. Meanwhile the raccoon squats on
the gherkins, extracts pimentos from olives, and sniffs
abandoned cups of beer. A ghoul in the living room
turns the music up and the house becomes a drum.
The windows buzz. “Who do you love? Who do you love?”
the singer sings. Our feathered arms, our stockinged legs.
The intricate paws, the filleting tongue.
We love what we are; we love what we’ve become.

So what is it you want from us, anyway??

Duh.Image result for duh

It’s easy to feel like that’s an on-point response to the “Why go to college?” question.

But Chickens, one thing I’ve learned is that it’s easy to make the mistake of assuming. Another thing I’ve learned is that people, Chickens, well people are crazy complex and interesting organisms. Just when I think I’ve passed the test on human beings…

Image result for failed test
Oh yeah…

Don’t know about you, but I’m so glad to be a Chicken.

Image result for chicken feetPeople, I mean, people have sooo (w/3 o’s) many different reasons and motivations… soooo (w/4 o’s) many different ways of thinking about life. So (just 1) it’s totally good for people to put their fingers on exactly what they’re doing and why. And totally good to recognize that others may have their fingers in totally different places.

College, for instance. I mean…we Chickens have that in common with people, right? So check out this list of reasons people go to college (courtesy of Dr. Marsha Fralick’s book College and Career Success) and see if you can put your fingers – or feathers or hocks – on why it is you’re here:

Reasons List

It’s good for us, Chickens, to have our claws in deep to a few of these reasons because when the going gets tough & temptation’s easy……(yep, that’s 6 dots/2 ellipses=micdrop) our reasons are our wings.

Image result for chicken feetImage result for chicken feetImage result for chicken feet

wings
courtesy of Jazzie Menagerie