No story element is ever set in stone!


Even after I finally realised the importance of editing and rewriting, it didn’t immediately dawn on me that I wasn’t beholden to every single aspect of a story as I originally envisioned it. Sometimes things must be excised. Writing around or radically rewriting rotten material won’t suddenly make garbage into gold. Smothering dross with a thousand layers of gold won’t change what still lurks beneath.

A lot of the problems I’ve had with the earlier drafts of my Atlantic City books comes from this juvenile mindset it took me far too long to ditch. I just added new material and reworded the most egregious garbage instead of starting radical rewrites and restructurings.

It’s like only removing part of a tumour, or removing the tumour and not following up with chemo and radiation. Eventually, the cancer will come back and get even worse, since you’re letting it become so embedded within the body at what should be the most opportune time to root it out completely.


E.g., Gayle Pembroke and her siblings are stolen from their parents by an obsessed older rich woman named Mrs. Pardon. For reasons which I never explained, Mrs. Pardon framed Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke, had them thrown in jail, and was given full custody of their five kids. The baby they have in early 1943, Lacey, is given to her as well.

Granted, the framing happens in the long-hiatused second Max’s House book, but in none of the other books after that was it ever stated what exactly Mrs. Pardon framed them for, why the jury believed this story, and why a total stranger would get custody! Was it murder? Arson? Treason? Grand larceny? Embezzlement? Fraud?

I thought up this stupid storyline when I was a preteen, and just kept running with it despite it making zero sense. Also, the littlest Pembroke sister needs a new name. At least third sister Brooke’s unusual-for-the-era name can be explained by her parents liking nature names.


As I’ve said before, I’m so glad I was forced to recreate Little Ragdoll from scratch and memory, and that the long-buggy first file was only finally resurrected after I finished the second first draft. There was zero way I could’ve salvaged a halfway-decent story from that Grimms’ fairytale on acid. Had I been able to open the first of those two old files earlier, the resulting story would’ve been absolutely terrible.

Likewise with the Max’s House books I handwrote the first drafts of (#1, #3, #7, and #8). The others need a lot of work too, but not nearly so extensively. I transcribed everything and merely added new stuff or fleshed out and reworded other stuff. Never a serious thought to outright removing the most egregious garbage!

The main storyline of #3 absolutely disgusts me now. Elaine decides she’ll kill herself after her English teacher forces her to read a bunch of books, and hatches a bizarrely detailed timeline. E.g., she begins taking poison in larger and larger doses, moves into the cellar and sleeps in a coffin, writes goofy poetry, buys dresses for her suicide and funeral, and finally “kills” herself in the outdoor pool with Max’s assistance. She has quite a long OOBE and comes back to herself in hospital.

There are so many things wrong with that storyline, perhaps worst of all treating suicide and suicidal ideation so matter-of-factly and as dark comedy! Elaine shows no signs of any sort of real depression or other mental health issues. I retained that storyline only because it was already there.


You are never beholden to keep every last word as you originally wrote it. Same goes for plot twists, couplings, character arcs, backstories, storylines, plots, scenes, et al. Yes, it’s very difficult to dismantle a good chunk of a book and rewrite it almost from scratch, but it’s always worth it in the end.

Who cares if that was a core part of the first draft, or you feel sentimental attachment to an idea you hatched when you were very young? That’s not a solid reason to justify keeping it if it’s bad to begin with.

When you cut away rotted flesh, healthy new flesh eventually replaces it. So too is it with radically slashing and burning to create a new and improved story.

Tashlich 1938


This post was originally scheduled for 7 September 2013, as part of the now-discontinued Sweet Saturday Samples bloghop. It comes from an older version of the book formerly known as The Very First, which has since undergone even more edits.


In loving memory of the one and only Keith John Moon, greatest drummer ever, who passed from this life, far too early, 35 years ago today.

In honour of Rosh Hashanah, which spanned 4-6 September this year, this week’s post comes from my chronological first Atlantic City book, The Very First. (I know it needs a much better title, but after over 20 years, I just can’t think of it by any other name!) Chapter 12, “High Holy Days,” covers the full cycle of the fall holidays in 1938.

New immigrant Sparky (real name Katherine) is struggling to fit into her new town and American life. Her new best friend Cinnimin, whom her family lives with, thinks Sparky should make some compromises to be a real American girl. Each girl tries to convince the other, in a respectful way, of the merits of her side.


Monday after school, Cinni was skipping stones at the pond with Tina and Gayle when the Smalls appeared on the horizon, along with a bunch of other people Cinni didn’t recognize.  When she saw the man with the beard, she figured it must be their rabbi.  None of the other gentlemen had beards.  Perhaps he felt it were his duty to set an example and appear very religious on behalf of everyone else.  As it was, beards seemed so pre-modern, on a man of any religion.

“Would you like to skip stones with us?” Cinni asked. “It’s nice how your folks ain’t against having fun on a holiday.  I’ve heard some Christians in the olden days useta just sit and read the Bible on holidays and Sundays, and wouldn’t let their kids play or listen to music.”

“We’re not here to have fun,” Barry said, sneaking a look at Cinni. “We’re here for tashlich.”

“We’re going to throw crumbs into the water to symbolically cast off our sins,” Gary explained.

“Don’t you get rid of your sins by doing all that praying?  And I know you fast on Yom Kippur.  This seems like a silly superstition, like sacrificing children or spitting to ward off the evil eye.”

“It’s not meant to take the place of prayer and repentance,” Barry said. “It’s just a nice ritual done in addition to praying.  Some really religious folks spin a chicken or fish around their heads to transfer their sins to the animal.  We’re not nearly that goofy.”

“Barry and I are too young to fast on Yom Kippur,” Sparky said as the adults assembled a short distance from them. “We’re encouraged to not eat for part of the day, but we’re not supposed to fast the entire day before we’re obligated to keep all the commandments.  But Barry will be bar mitzvah in January.  He’ll have to do it next year.”

“Would you like to come to my bar mitzvah party?  I’ll give you a seat of honor at my table.”

“Sure, that sounds fun.  I ain’t a fan of most religion, but if there’s a party involved, it can’t be that boring.”

Cinni moved to another part of the pond with Gayle and Tina and continued skipping stones.  They watched the ceremony out of the corners of their eyes.

“I don’t understand what in the world they’re doing, or why, but I think it’s neat,” Gayle declared as she selected a round, flat gray stone and skipped it quite a distance across the water. “I wish Methodism had rituals like that.  I like religions with fun stuff.”

“Why do you even read about religion?” Tina asked. “It’s grownup stuff.  Grownup stuff is boring.  I only like reading stuff like comic books and magazine stories.”

“I like opening my mind to new worlds.  I don’t wanna look like some stupid American who only cares about her own culture and community.  When I grow up, I’d like a job where I can use my interest in these things.  Maybe I’ll be a fortuneteller or an astrologer.  Or maybe I can do what Mrs. Malspur does in her séance room, only make money for it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about what I really wanna do when I’m a grownup.” Cinni pulled a candybar out of her skirt pocket, ripped off the wrapper, and took a huge bite. “For now, all I wanna do is fill my stomach and have fun.”

They watched the man they assumed to be the rabbi reading from a prayerbook as some of the group followed along in their own prayerbooks or from memory.  At the conclusion of the brief prayer service, someone passed around a bag of breadcrumbs mixed with fish food, and people took turns going to the water’s edge to cast the crumbs into it.  Cinni noticed that there weren’t many young people in the group.  Sparky probably felt lonely.

Happy Halloween!


Happy Halloween! Even though almost no one reads my blog on Fridays and Saturdays, I’m presenting Chapter 14, “Happy Halloween,” of The Very First, my chronological first Atlantic City book, set in 1938. The chapter is a bit over 5,000 words.


Even though the Filliards had been decorating their house for Halloween over the last few weeks, and their neighbors the Hitchcocks, the Vallis, and the Holidays had also been decorating, Sparky was still a bit surprised to arrive at school on Monday and find the entire school also decorated.  Halloween hadn’t even been a concept back in Amsterdam, and the elements of the holiday definitely didn’t seem very Jewish to her.  It was bad enough Cinni had gotten her to agree to wearing a cat costume instead of her usual school clothes.  It felt ridiculous to walk around school all day in a costume.

“Thank God I’m in junior high and not expected to come to school in costume,” Barry muttered as they got off the bus.

“I take it you ain’t coming to the Halloween dance for older students tonight?” Cinni asked, adjusting her derby hat. “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go.  It’s fun to have a party in class, but it must be even more fun to have a big dance and party for the whole school.”

“I wouldn’t even have a date.” He cast a quick look over Cinni, taking in her beautiful eyes that matched her name. “You wouldn’t have a date either.  You’re too young for a boyfriend or going on dates.”

Cinni pointed to Julieanna, dressed as a French milkmaid. “Julie has a practice boyfriend already, Harry Brewster, the boy dressed like a farmer.  Perhaps I’ll be old enough for my own practice boyfriend in a few more years.”

“You never know,” he mumbled as he rushed off to the junior high side of the building.

Mr. Robinson stood by the steps near one of the entrance doors, handing out candy and chocolates.  Cinni eagerly opened her schoolbag and continued standing there smiling expectantly even after Mr. Robinson closed the large bag of treats.

“Let’s not be greedy, Cinnimin,” the principal said. “I take it you’re using Halloween as an excuse to come to school in pants?”

“What, is it against your rules to dress like the opposite sex for Halloween?  I never saw that rule in your current rulebook.  Besides, only idiots think a girl or woman in pants is really a guy.  They either need to get glasses or quit drinking.”

Mr. Robinson turned to Sparky. “Katherine Brandt, right?  Would you like some candy?”

“I don’t know if that’s kosher candy, Sir.  I have special rules about what I can and can’t eat.” Sparky looked down the hall at all the Halloween decorations. “I don’t think I should even be celebrating this holiday.  It ain’t a Jewish holiday.”

“Only heathens celebrate Halloween,” Adeline whispered smugly. “May I have some candy too, Mr. Robinson?”

“You don’t celebrate Halloween, Adeline.  You’re not like your older sister Pansy.  You’re as fun-hating and overly religious as your parents.  Let the other students who celebrate Halloween have the candy.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t dress like a dragon,” Cinni smirked. “Since your daddy is a Grand Dragon.  Do you know if he wants to get promoted to Imperial Wizard or whatever other silly titles the Klan has for higher-ups?”

“My daddy ain’t in the Klan, for the last time,” Adeline seethed.

“Sure he ain’t.  But I guess if you wanna be in denial about it forever, that’s your right.” Cinni began eating the largest candybar in her bag as she continued up the stairs.

Their first period art classroom was decorated with jack-o-lanterns, gourds, skeletons, witches, and ghouls.  Orange streamers and black and orange balloons were strung up all across the classroom.  On their tables, which they used instead of desks in this class, were bowls of candy and smaller decorations.  Miss Reinders had hung a few macabre, creepy drawings on the wall as well.

“I know some of those pictures are by Albrecht Dürer, but I don’t recognize the other ones,” Cinni said as she surveyed the new decorations. “I like dark art.  It’s more interesting and real than boring stuff like angels, flowers, religious stuff, and landscapes.”

Adeline was already shoving the candy at her seat down her throat as she gave snooty looks to the Halloween decorations.  Cinni could only laugh at her blatant, unrealized hypocrisy.

“You can have my candy, Cinni, if some of it’s not kosher,” Sparky said.

“Oh, come on, free candy,” Cinni tried to tempt her. “Your folks don’t have to know, and I’m pretty sure God understands that modern people have to do modern things.  Not everyone is lucky enough to live on a mountaintop and have no modern distractions.  I’m sure even the people who still live in Israel don’t have it as perfect as they did in ancient days.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re glad your parents picked America ‘steada the desert,” Kit said. “You don’t wanna live in a sandbox full of Arab bandits.  It’s best to move to another civilized place.  I’d be really mad if my insane mother wanted to move us to the middle of nowhere, or a place that hadn’t been really lived in for over a thousand years.”

“Is your mother really that bad?  Your dad thinks she’s nuts too.”

Kit smiled triumphantly. “Daddy always tells it like it is.  That woman can just sit and stew about it, but she knows it’s the truth.  Just wait till my birthday party on December eleventh.  You’re invited, of course.  That woman is always tryna ruin the parties me and my sisters have, or whining or shrieking about something or other when we’re tryna have a nice meal or enjoy ourselves around the house.”

Sparky thought it were rather disrespectful of Kit to speak that way about her own mother, but didn’t want to take her to task about it when Kit seemed to like her so far.  And Kit was sixth-most popular, and had been fifth-most popular till Cinni had readjusted the ranks to include Sparky.  It wouldn’t be very nice to sass her.  And perhaps Mrs. Green really was unbearable to be around.  She couldn’t know for sure till she actually met the woman.

“You look very serious,” Cinni said. “Are you thinking about something?”

“Maybe I’m becoming American faster than I thought.  A little while ago I woulda said you have to honor and respect your parents no matter what, since that’s onea the Ten Commandments, but sometimes real life might make it hard.  Saying you’ve gotta respect and honor your parents no matter what is all very good in an ideal world, but maybe some parents really do try their kids’ nerves so much they can’t help but speak badly about them.”

“Exactly,” Cinni nodded. “It doesn’t mean Kit’s bad or sinful, just that she’s real.  Normal people can only be squeaky-clean and so moral and pure if they don’t live in the real world.  Anyone who expects you to be perfect and obey all the laws exactly as they were obeyed a thousand years ago is very stupid and outta touch with real life.”

Sparky picked up some of the individually wrapped pieces of candy in her bowl and inspected them for hechshers. “Even if part of that’s true, I still have to keep the basic laws.  I can’t eat non-kosher food unless it’s a mistake or I’m dying.”

Cinni sighed. “I suppose you could still be a real American even if you don’t eat everything.  Laura’s still a real American even though she won’t eat meat on Fridays.”

“Are you going trick-or-treating with us tonight?” Julieanna asked. “Or will you only accept kosher candy?”

“I’m lucky my parents are even letting me go to the Halloween party Cinni is having.  And I don’t want to give the impression that I’m accepting non-kosher candy, or make people feel bad if they know they’re not really giving me candy, since I can’t eat their generous gifts.”

Cinni reached for another piece of candy. “I’ll make a proper American girl of you yet, even if I have to change some of my methods.”


That evening, instead of doing homework as usual, Sparky followed Cinni and her favorite sister Babs out of the house to trick-or-treat, which the adults called “guising.”  The hated Stacy went trick-or-treating with a group of her friends, and Cinni’s cousin Elmira went to some church-sponsored Halloween party with Lucinda.  Barry and Gary couldn’t believe what passed for fun in America and stayed home with their schoolwork.

“Hopefully next year at this time, your brothers will be normal American boys and go to the school’s Halloween party and dance,” Cinni said as they started down Maxwell Avenue after Tina, dressed as a saloon girl, had joined them. “I can’t imagine giving up a party and lots of free food.  I can’t wait till we’re old enough to go to the school dances.”

“They ain’t as fun as you think,” Babs said as she fiddled with the blue and purple fairy wings on her back. “Even when you’re popular, it’s still mostly an excuse to stand around talking with your friends.  There’s only so much time you can really have fun dancing, even if you’ve got a boyfriend.  At least they have food and music, and sometimes games.  The only dance I really like going to is the Halloween dance.  You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to grow up.”

“I can’t wait till I’m a real teenager,” Cinni asserted, savoring the feeling of wearing pants and not being punished for it. “Then I won’t have to just play at being a real grownup anymore.  All the off-limits stuff will be open to me.  Of course, some stuff I ain’t looking forward to, like being a lady.  I don’t envy Gayle for being the first girl in our circle to become a lady.”

“I thought like that too, before I started getting older.  Sometimes you just make something into what it’s not, ‘cause you’ve never experienced it before.  When it becomes real, you wonder if that’s all there is to it.  I don’t think being twelve is somehow magically more fun than being ten or eleven was, or that I’ll have more fun when I’m sixteen or eighteen.”

Cinni thought she couldn’t be more wrong, but dared not contradict her favorite sister. “How long do you wanna be out before we head home for our party?”

“The usual, I guess.  We’ll go down Maxwell and Greenhall, and try to get somea the houses on Lennon and Fairfax.”

“Can we go down Jennifer Street?  I wanna see the haunted house, or at least try to guess which one is the haunted one.”

Babs shrugged. “Sure, I don’t see why not.  It ain’t that far from us.  Pity we don’t know which one is the haunted house, since it would be kinda fun, in a scary way, to sneak inside and try to see if we could see any of the ghosts.”

“Yeah, and Julie lives on Jennifer Street,” Tina nodded. “Her parents give really good candy.”

“Laura’s Hoovershack is also on Jennifer Street,” Cinni said. “I bet you anything her old-fashioned grandma won’t give us no candy or even put lights on.  At least Laura’s parents, as nuts as they were, would come to the door and give out candy.  They probably didn’t know what they were really doing, but at least they did it.”

“Too bad we’re too young to go to the school party and dance, since it’s so close.  I wouldn’t care if I was caught sneaking in, but I guess I ain’t missing too much.  We can still have fun collecting candy and going to our own party later.” Tina smiled at Babs. “You’re really swell for going with us even though you’re old enough for the school party.”

“What about the house on Jennifer Street you said your mother’s family useta go to in the Summers?” Sparky asked, picking up her cat’s tail so it wouldn’t drag on the sidewalk.

“We’ve never been there,” Cinni said. “I couldn’t even tell you the street number.  I wonder if it’s close to the haunted house.”

“It would be even more fun if we could walk through the cemetery,” Babs smiled. “I brought up the idea to my history teacher, ‘cause he’s very interested in cemetery preservation and making grave rubbings, but he said it’s a dangerous idea to go into any cemetery at night.”

“A grown man believes in ghosts?” Sparky asked.

“He didn’t even mention ghosts.  He just said you could trip over tree trunks, branches, sticks, and smaller graves in the dark.  Even if you’ve been there many times in daylight, you probably won’t be able to find your way around as well in the dark.  Everything looks different in the dark.  And who knows if bad guys are lurking about in the shadows.  I saw one of Laurel and Hardy’s silent shorts, Habeas Corpus, at the Rerun Theatre last week, as part of their Halloween movies spotlight, and there were crooks in that cemetery at night.”

“Cinni only takes me to see the modern movies.  And she says seeing an old-time movie, as good as it could be, would be an excuse not to learn and perfect my English.  My parents like to see the movies at Rerun Theatre ‘cause they’re acted with body language and not words.”

“Well, you’re missing some good stuff.  They’re still having a few more old Halloween movies for a few more days, if you’re interested.  Off the top of my head, I know they’re playing The Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney, Dracula with Bela Lugosi, and a couple of Hitchcock films.”

Cinni began walking quicker when she saw Violet coming up behind them.  Violet was dressed like a queen.  When Violet caught up with them, Cinni didn’t acknowledge her and just kept walking straight ahead, looking forward.

“Mandy went to the school Halloween party, so I’m joining you,” Violet said. “I think it’s best I get out of the house anyway, even if it wasn’t Halloween.  Madeline is trying again for that stupid third baby she wants.”

Sparky almost choked. “You call your mother by her first name?”

“Everyone does.  All her friends and relatives call her Madeline or Mrs. Hitch.  Not even Mrs. Hitchcock.”

“And did you just say your parents are trying to have another baby?  Why would they tell you such private information?”

“Since last year.  A girl will be called Scarlett, since my mother loved the book Gone with the Wind, and Igor for a guy, for reasons I still don’t understand.  We ain’t Russians.  She says it’s after some famous composer she likes, but she could always pick an American or British musician so the name wouldn’t seem goofy and out of place.  Only my mom wants a baby, so she’s having to be a little tricky about getting what she wants.”

“I’m glad my folks are done with babies,” Cinni said. “I love being the youngest child.  Too bad you won’t enjoy that honor forever.”

Violet scowled as they continued up the street and towards the first house with lights on.

Sparky stood back as Cinni, Violet, Tina, and Babs rang the bell and stood back with their pillowcases.  The woman who answered the door bent down for a large pail of candy and gave each girl a 5th Avenue bar, 3 Musketeers, Tootsie Rolls, and Snickers bars.  Sparky felt a little hungry when she saw all the candy they were getting just for putting on costumes and showing up at someone’s house.

The woman peered over their shoulders. “Is that girl with you?  If she’s allergic to chocolate or has a sensitive stomach, I can always give her an apple or some coins.”

“She’s religious,” Cinni said. “She only eats food that’s kosher, and she won’t know if it’s okay unless she sees special markings on the wrapper.”

The woman looked at Sparky again. “What does kosher mean?”

“It’s a Jewish thing.  Like how Catholics don’t eat meat on Fridays, sorta.  She can eat lots of things, just needs to know for sure if it’s made with good ingredients and prepared correctly.”

“I don’t mind an apple,” Sparky finally spoke up. “Cinni’s dad bought some kosher candy so I could eat sweets at the Halloween party we’re having later.”

“Are you sure you can’t eat candy?” the woman asked. “I don’t think any normal candy has pork or shellfish in it.”

“It’s very complicated, Ma’am.  I know your candy must taste delicious, but I have to follow my rules.”

“I’m sure it is kosher, even if it ain’t got no hechsher,” Cinni said. “Maybe you can write letters to these companies to ask.”

The woman looked a little sadly at Sparky. “Well, happy Halloween, Miss.  Maybe someday you’ll be able to have a real trick-or-treating experience.”

“Maybe,” Sparky said half-heartedly, as she and the other girls turned around and headed for the next house.


After an hour and a half of traipsing around the nearest streets, Cinni, Babs, Tina, and Violet had pillowcases bulging with candies, chocolates, coins, apples, and small toys like yo-yos and rubber balls.  Sparky’s pillowcase was noticeably less full, only containing the toys, money, and apples.

“I think everyone felt sorry for you,” Cinni said as they walked down Jennifer Street. “Either that, or they thought you were a little crazy.  At least Myers stays home on Halloween night ‘steada letting everyone know she hates Halloween.  I guess at least you ain’t totally against Halloween, and you did get some stuff.  You just need a little more time to get used to American life and get over your strict rules.”

“They’re not that strict.  I’m not Orthodox.  They’re just important rules for me to live by.  When you study the reasons for the rules, they start making a lot of sense.  I’m not old enough yet to study them in an advanced way, but I know the basic reasons why.”

“I’ve studied a little about immigrants in my history classes,” Babs said. “A lot of immigrants in the old days, even a few decades ago, went too far in the other direction.  They thought they had to change everything about themselves to become real Americans.  And they lost their real identities, what made their culture so special.  I don’t think everyone needs to be whitewashed of their origins to become a real American.  I mean, you don’t wanna hang onto everything and pretend you never left home, but some things are too important and special to just give up.  My grandma on my dad’s side is still very Russian after thirty-three years in this country.”

Cinni pulled a flashlight out of her pillowcase and pushed the on button. “Odds are that the haunted house is onea the ones we didn’t visit.  No one’s supposed to live there no more, so there’d be no lights on.”

“You can’t just break into a house, even if it’s been abandoned for years,” Sparky tried to protest.

“We’re not that dumb.  We just wanna look in the windows, try the doors, that sorta thing.  The one my mom’s people useta live in during the Summer must be onea the dark houses too.  Wish I knew the address for either.”

“When we’re older, we can have more fun on Halloween night,” Violet said. “It’s very popular to vandalize stuff on Halloween.  I think my first target will be old man Robinson.  Max’s dad deserves some vandalism too.”

“Vandalism?” Sparky choked out. “Isn’t that against the law?”

“It’s all in good fun,” Cinni said as she continued to shine her flashlight on darkened houses. “Some of these houses are occupied.  The owners are just spoil-sports who don’t wanna have no fun on Halloween, or who are too stingy to give deserving children free candy once a year.”

Violet adjusted the crown on her head. “It’s just fun stuff like throwing eggs at houses and cars, wrapping toilet paper around trees, painting things on houses, ripping down outdoor decorations.  Nothing mean like killing pets or making bombs.”

“What if someone did that to your nice mansion?” Sparky asked.

“People do vandalize sometimes.  You have to expect it on Halloween.  Only the Nobodies wanna be goody-two-shoes who don’t want nothing to do with Halloween.”

“But that’s ruining someone else’s property for no reason!  That’s mean!”

Cinni shook her head. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about American customs.  I guess it’s a surprise to you ‘cause no one did anything for Halloween anyway back in Holland.”

Babs crept up to the next darkened house. “This might be it.  They don’t even have a car.  Everyone has a car nowadays, at least in the nice parts of the neighborhood.  This house doesn’t even have some old Model T piece of junk or anything.”

Cinni shone her flashlight into the mailbox. “No mail neither.  Boy, this thing’s got a lot of cobwebs.”

Tina squinted her eyes at it in the dark, trying to make things out from the light from nearby houses. “It does look pretty old.  I ain’t no future architecture student, but I know this ain’t the typea house they made even a hundred years ago.  Maybe it really was made in the Colonial era like the haunted house.”

Cinni tried the front door. “Won’t open.  Is anyone brave enough to wanna try the back door, or any other doors?”

“You don’t even know if this is your haunted house!” Sparky protested. “And what if someone really does live here?  He’d be really mad if he found you tryna break into his house.  And if he’s away, he’ll come back to find someone broke in.”

Babs tried the windows in front and found them all stuck too. “Perhaps this is the haunted house.  But it could also be the house my mom’s people useta have Summer vacations at.  I know that house is pretty old too, and no one’s lived in it for awhile.”

“What if the haunted house and your mother’s old family home are the same house?”

Cinni laughed. “That just ain’t possible.  They’re two different houses, wherever they are on this street.  I told you, the mystery of Charlotte Lennon’s descendants will probably always be a town unsolved mystery.  No one decent wants to admit to being descended from someone who was born outta wedlock, so that family tree, whoever has it, is lost to the ages.”

“Don’t they have records or anything in the library or wherever else they keep archives?  There were people on both sides of my family who served in the military when Germany was still Prussia, and my father took copies of the documents with him when we left Germany.  All important countries are supposed to keep records in the modern era.”

“Charlotte Lennon died in 1645.  I doubt most places in America even keep records that far back.” Cinni stepped back and craned her neck up at the upper stories, shining her flashlight into the windows. “Can anyone see movement?”

“I’m getting cold,” Violet whined. “And my feet hurt.  Plus we need to go to your party.  If I was Most Popular Girl, I’d never neglect my responsibilities as hostess to go playing detective and creeping around supposed haunted houses.”

Cinni shone the flashlight into her eyes, and Violet immediately threw her hands over her eyes. “You never will be Most Popular Girl, you damn dirty schemer.  At least you pretended you don’t have designs on my title by saying ‘if,’ not ‘when.’  Remember I’ve got eyes everywhere, you skinny twit.  I know what you’re thinking and planning before you do.  Any fantasies you have of stealing my throne will stay in your head.  Got that?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Violet seethed as they started the walk back to Maxwell Avenue.


Sparky took a seat between Cinni and Mickey when they came back home.  Violet gave Cinni a smug, knowing look when they found most of the guests already there.  As though Cinni expected everyone to wait for her to get home and would know exactly when she would come home and when they were supposed to arrive.

“It’s too bad you can’t eat more of our delicious food,” Mickey said as she ate a cupcake. “Did your parents make you and your brothers any special kosher food you can eat for the party?”

“My parents don’t celebrate Halloween.  No one does in Holland or Germany.  And my brothers ain’t interested in the party.  They’re upstairs doing schoolwork.”

“Oh, boring.  At least you’re making an effort to become a real American.  Maybe your brothers need to learn the hard way that they shouldn’t keep all their old customs if they wanna fit in.”

“At least she’s doing something for Halloween,” Cinni said. “She ain’t fun-hating like that snit Myers or Laura’s fanatic grandma.”

“My grandma thinks I went to some church-sponsored Halloween alternative party at someone else’s house,” Laura said. “Star used the same lie, and took Jon, Aimee, and Jayne to the babysitting service they have at the school.”

“Your school has a babysitting service at dances?” Sparky asked. “For who?  Are there many married older students who go there?”

“Naw, it’s for students who have to babysit siblings or neighborhood kids but don’t wanna miss dances and parties,” Cinni said. “And since there are a bunch of people in thirteenth grade and Final Year, there are always bound to be a few married people with kids.”

“Do you intend to make a habit of lying to your grandma, Laura?” Sparky pulled on her cat ears, still not entirely comfortable with wearing a costume even after spending the entire day in it. “I thought Christianity had similar rules to Judaism about honoring your elders and parents.”

“She’s a religious fanatic,” Laura said, reaching for a handful of candy corn. “I know a lot of people think I’m a religious fanatic too, but those people don’t really know me if they can think that.  They’re judging me on appearances and rumors.  I’d probably be kicked outta church if my priest knew how I really feel about some stuff.  In another century, I might’ve even been burnt at the stake for my opinions.”

“Sometimes it’s better to tell a couple of white lies to maintain peace at home,” Cinni said. “Like a husband who tells his wife he likes her new clothes when he really thinks they’re ugly.  It’s better to avoid a fight than tell the truth.  And Laura and Star deserve to have fun and do real stuff on Halloween ‘steada sitting around that drab Hoovershack reading the Bible, or whatever else their grandma thinks is fun.”

“They have a concept like that in Judaism too,” Sparky said. “It’s called shalom bayit, peace in the house.  Sometimes it’s more important than always getting your own way or telling the truth no matter what.  You can even be allowed to do stuff you normally ain’t allowed to do if observing some laws would cause a big fight.  Sometimes after enough time, the person who didn’t want you to observe those laws becomes more religious or understanding, and then you can do the things you wanted to do.”

Cinni’s eyes lit up. “So then this means you can eat non-kosher food if it’s the only stuff available, or if it’s too hard to get kosher food?”

“It’s best to talk to a rabbi about it, or at least a person who knows the laws very well.  You can’t just decide what to do and what not to do on your own.  That’s like letting a kid pick her own bedtime or letting her eat candy all day.  And I don’t think any rabbi would say it’s okay for me to eat non-kosher food just to fit in.  That ain’t what shalom bayit is supposed to be all about.”

“But you can eat apples.  Would you like to bob for apples with us?”

“Is that a game?”

“Yup.  My daddy will be coming in soon with a big tub of water and apples.  It’s a traditional Halloween party game.  You lean into the tub and try to get an apple with only your mouth and teeth.”

“Would you like to try our fortunetelling games too?” Gayle asked. “My little sister T.J. over there always lets me tell her fortune at home.  It’s good practice for when I’m a grownup and can do it for my job.”

“And there’s other stuff you can do to tell your own fortune,” Mickey said. “If you walk backwards out the door at night, pick some grass, and put it under your pillow, you’ll dream of your future.  Eating a stale crust of bread at night will also grant you a wish.”

“And there are some games Babs taught me about how to guess your future husband’s identity,” Cinni said. “Did you ever try those sorts of games back home?  Surely not all kinds of fortunetelling are forbidden.”

“Why do I need to try to guess who my husband will be when I’m only in elementary school?” Sparky asked. “And I already know who he’ll be anyway.  Lazarus von Hinderburg.  God willing, he’ll be in America soon with his family.”

“But for now, he ain’t in America.” Cinni’s face lit up when she saw her father struggling into the room with the tub of water and apples. “I get to go first!”

“Doesn’t your father have a weak heart?” Sparky whispered. “Why are you making him carry that heavy thing alone?”

“I ain’t strong enough to carry it, and it ain’t like Daddy is at death’s door.  Lots of people have rheumatic fever and don’t die from it.  That idiot doctor who told him his heart would keep getting weaker was an idiot.  He probably just wants more money.  Doctors ain’t God.”

Sparky watched as Cinni knelt over the tub and tried to pick up an apple as Mickey held back her long curly hair.  She counted thirty apples in the tub, enough for Cinni, her friends, and a few of the younger siblings who’d also come.  Back in Amsterdam, she’d probably be listening to the radio and maybe doing schoolwork tonight, not going to a Halloween party with a bunch of people she hadn’t even known had existed a few months ago.  Even if some of the things were off-limits to her, at least it felt nice to be included in this big group of new friends and to take part in American activities.

Valentine and Ajax (Verdana)


(Warning: Contains some mature language.)

Font: Verdana

Year created: 1996

Personal experience: Some of my files of notes and scratch work have been saved into this font through default, and I rather like it, for a sans serif font.

Chapter: “Valentine and Ajax”

Book: Cinnimin

Written: 4 September-1 October 2002


This is Part XLI (41) of my magnum opus under the current table of contents, the second Part of Saga VI (the Nineties), Children’s Children. The title couple are Cinni’s firstborn grandson, Ajax Kevorkian, né Seward-Filliard (born February 1972), and the firstborn of her dear friend and stepsister-in-law Gayle, Valentine Pinkerton-Pembroke (born 1970). (Valentine was, surprise, born on Valentine’s Day!) It’s set from 17 May-23 August 1991. Near the beginning, the Seward patriarch, dear Grandpa Stan, dies.

During the wedding reception, Julieanna’s troubled son André is thrown over the edge to learn that his wife Bridget, who’s also his stepsister, is pregnant a third time without consulting him, esp. since they’ve already got two sets of twins. The elderly family patriarch suffers a stroke during André’s ranting, and things only get worse from there.

Some highlights:

“Corpses rot quickly in the heat,” Al advised. “Somebody wrap him up in ice packs before rigor mortis sets in.”

“Under my roof, you will cut off your own head if I order it,” Mr. Seward growled.

“Don’t be coy about what you do,” Max laughed. “My beautiful daughter-in-law hawks pornos and sex toys.”

Mr. Seward turned white when he spied Luke assembling the sixty-year-old television set. He anticipated hearing a huge pop or snap or bang when Luke adjusted the rheostat that turned it on. Instead a fuzzy black and white image filled the small screen.

Eunomia came into the room carrying a chocolate dildo filled with honey. Fudzie ran to lock up the rest of that month’s freebies, only to find Pandora and Stan sitting wide-eyed before a VCR broadcasting Aspen’s Mountains. He yanked the plug.

R.R. reached out and cuffed Ernie. “Do you really want to imagine your big sister slamming the sheets?”

Gayle pinched him. “And must you talk so cavalierly about our firstborn having intercourse?”

“Now Ajax, you’d better knock my daughter up asap,” R.R. said. “Gayle and I are dying for some grandkids. Just look what happened to your great-uncle M.J. He nearly went insane waiting for grandkids!”

[Cinni’s firstborn Demian, increasingly upset at the extravagant wedding presents his de facto father-in-law Max is giving Valentine and Ajax] “No fair! I had to bust my ass painting just to put my wife through Princeton, and they’re getting everything handed to them on a silver platter!”

“I helped Mommy get pregnant again,” Olivia said proudly. “So she’ll let me name the kid as a reward!”

“I have been duped for the last time by that woman! I swear to God I shoulda had a vasectomy after she told me she’d tricked me into impregnating her with a second set of twins!”

Everyone but André froze in horror as old Nathaniel Malspur toppled over on his right side, his face white and limp.

“What, you think the grounds are cursed just ’cause some geezer on his last legs had a stroke here?” Bobbie Jo challenged. “It’s bad enough the perpetrator fled.”

“Oh, thank God, Max.” Luke’s eyes lit up. “I was just hideously attacked by that man, and your bitch of a daughter is already spinning it to make me look like the bad guy. Give me like ten thousand dollars and I’ll leave town to go on a mission asap.”

“So you can try to convert more old folks on their deathbeds?” Nick screamed, nearly popping his jugular.

“Wolfgang!” André thundered. “No kid of mine is gonna be named Wolfgang!”

“Do you have a toy like this?” Pandora gleefully pushed a button that sent a lifesize Oscar the Grouch towering out of a plastic rubbish bin. Kevin screamed.

“This is just one big conspiracy to rob me of my money!” he ranted when they got home. “What is it, quints?”

Bridget screamed when she saw her oldest daughter’s cello had been brutally smashed. André laughed.

[Bélgica, Julieanna’s oldest daughter] “André got recovered by a family out for a yacht ride, bleeding, unconscious, slit wrists, an apparent jump from the bridge into the ocean. They don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

[The elderly Mr. Malspur] “Give André my blood. I have negative AB.”

“I’m ninety-eight years old. I’ve lived long enough. André is only twenty-eight. He has four young children and two more on the way.”

[Typical Violet, not understanding her niece was giving her anything but a compliment] “Oh, my heart glows to hear you say that, Ash! I may be two months shy of sixty-one, but I love to be remembered as a cold domineering bitch who always gets what she wants!”