Halloween has just passed. And with it boogey-men, spooks, and un-accounted for fears. Odd, how fear so easily takes on a persona; can become a full-fledged life in its own.
Such was the case the other night when I went to plug in my back porch Halloween decoration. I have an adorable, Wal-mart Special plastic pumpkin-head, shaped and carved to look like Winnie-the Pooh in all his delightful, cherubic, innocent grin. And it was gone. Not a single shred of evidence of it's demise. Nothing else was disturbed. Nothing amiss. Just that Winnie had vanished.
And I felt spooked. I was irritated, yes. Why would anyone want to take such a sweet thing? Had to be a prank. And that's what ticked me off. This Pooh had sentimental value. It gave me a way to connect to my grandchildren who used to enjoy it on my old porch; the porch where we'd sit and play with match-box cars, watch fireworks on the 4th, water my flowers and drop pebbles down the grate. This pumpkin wasn't just decor. It cradled memories; it evoked childish joy and innocence. Not having it; losing it; that it was STOLEN, angered me.
But it also frightened me. That someone either that previous night when I was sleeping or during that day when I was out walking, would poke around my back porch and sneak off with my Pooh, was pretty gutsy. My bedroom window is right above where Pooh sat. Trifling around after bed-time right under my nose and me not be aware, was troubling. Or, even more so - to boldly, in broad daylight remove Winnie and walk away like nothing in the world, had to indicate some kind of low-life, scum-bag, deviant, derelict, no-good, blood-dripping, knife-toting criminal that probably just escaped from prison and whose face is tacked up in black and white at the post office. Never mind that such a monster walking away with a Winnie-the-Pooh pumpkin-head tucked under his arm didn't quite jive. You never know what those perverts take pleasure in. At least, that's how I was feeling. Vulnerable; scared; on edge.
This is Cannon Beach. There is no crime in Cannon Beach, I told myself. Well, yes, there is NOW, I argued back. The only thing about Cannon Beach that has made me feel vulnerable is, Tsunami awareness. I have felt completely free to walk about town, the beach, the trails; to not look over my shoulder in darkened areas. I've taken comfort when the police chief cruises through the village and residential blocks......about six times a day. In Cannon Beach I have never felt on-guard against crime. It never crossed my mind. But at times I HAVE been on guard, Tsunami-guard......well, more like Tsunami red-code-alert.
When I walk remote areas of the beach, I scan for an escape route should the Big One come. I've versed myself on where I'll high-tail it from my house; taken note of where the power lines are should they crash over and lay exposed blocking a route. I've studied the Tsunami map, and I know I have to get my Tsunami back-pack put together. All of this information has made me aware, yes. But at times it has made me more than aware. Some times, it just plain freaks me out.
The freak-out time is usually bed-time. And the boogey-man starts in.........
....now, Carol. Where's the flashlight? You know, dear; just in case. And, where'd you put your contact lens case? Do you think you'll have enough time to grab them on the run? And if you do, where will you put them? Are you gonna carry them around in your hand while you're trying to grab for your Tsunami back-pack, which by the way you haven't prepared yet, while you're trying to hold on to the flashlight? Well, you could stick the lens case in your pocket. My pocket? Where the heck am I going to have pockets? My pajamas don't have pockets! God, I'm gonna have to get pj's with pockets. Shoes. Where are your shoes? Did you put some by the bed? What about socks? Do you think you'll have time for socks? I wonder how big the Big One is? Will I be fast enough? I wonder if I could climb that big spruce out back?.......
Yes, when I'm tired, maybe worried about other things, Tsunami awareness can become a Jekyl-Hyde monster. And now, it seemed, I had another Cannon Beach spook to worry about. A porch interloper. This robber of innocence. The memorabilia thief. I don't want to be on a red-code-crime-alert in my village, on my street, in my house. I don't want this petty incident to become a monster too, one that requires a mental smack down every time my imagination goes berserk. So, I gave myself a little talking to...
....this is life, Carol. Ah, yes, sorrowfully not so innocent, but it's not an imminent monster out to devour you. Deal with the reality. Do the things you need to be sensible. But live. Oh God, yes. Live.
So, yesterday morning I'm taking the garbage out back, and lo and behold, there's my Pooh pumpkin. It's laying in the yard over by the corner of the house next to the porch, flipped on its side with its electric cord all strung out near the bushes. I was delighted. Certainly about having my keepsake back, but I felt a certain cosmic glee....maybe the culprit had a flash of conscious, a sense of noble humanity and brotherhood, and brought my joy, and why, yes even, my sense of safety back!
As I turned to go inside with Pooh tucked safely within my arms, my neighbor called out to me.
"Hey, Carol. Did you see the elk this morning? They've been poking around the last few days."
"Aww. No, I missed them," I answered.
"Yah," he answered back. "They were right on your back porch. Coolest thing. I'm surprised you didn't hear or see them."
Elk. Burglar elk. Toying with a plastic pumpkin. These majestic, yet goofy looking creatures had been nosing Pooh around my back yard with their velvety, huge muzzles. I made a decision as I headed back indoors. I cannot let spooks create nether-worlds in my existence. A simple caution does not have to become a fearsome monster.
So I made a decision about that other Cannon Beach trepidation too. I will put my Tsunami back-pack together, store it in my coat closet by the front door for easy access, but it will be a citadel, my fortification, a guardian, NOT a boogey-man.
....but I still may think about pajamas with pockets.
