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Little Voice Says, “Emily Dickinson”

Little Voice Says, “Emily Dickinson”

244I believe in that little voice inside us that says, do this or do that. Sometimes it may lead us astray, but other times it tells us something we need to hear or be reminded of. For the past couple of days, my little voice has been saying, “Emily Dickinson.”

Weird, I know, but safely stowed away in one of my many book nooks is the “Collected Poems” by Miss Emily Dickinson. I bought this book 12 years ago on the bargain book shelf at Barnes & Noble for $4.98.

I’ve rarely opened it until today. When I bought it, I only bought it because I believed it’d make me look well read while it sat on the bookshelf of the library I’d inevitably have when I married my soon-to-be rich husband. Well, I don’t need to expand on that fantasy, but I still have the book, and today, I went to it.

Although I’m constantly shifting things in my condo to make my life fit neatly within the wall of the 900sq feet I call home, I instinctively knew where Miss Dickinson was. I opened the book and this is what I read:

Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,

Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,
Too far
For credibility’s temerity
To dare.

Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow’s raiment
To touch,

Yet persevered toward, surer for distance;
How high
Unto the saint’s slow diligence
The sky!

Ungained, it may be, by a life’s low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring

Now Presenting: The Halloween Scrooge

Now Presenting: The Halloween Scrooge


ECU Halloween 1992 - Cleopatra
ECU Halloween 1992 - Cleopatra


Call me the Halloween Scrooge—I just don’t find any fun in this day and think it’s absurd that it’s even a “holiday.”  I haven’t been a Scrooge all my life and I have no religious objections to the day. I just don’t enjoy Halloween. Maybe it’s because I hate orange and black or that the costumes are uncomfortable and leave me freezing my ass off.  This is what I remember of Halloween growing up.  “Remember” being the key word here because in a recent search to discover the roots of my Halloween scroogeness, I came to realize I have NO photos of me as a kid with any Halloween costume—and neither does my brother! This is a tragedy in today’s shutterbug culture! (Of course, not an Easter or Christmas passed without a photo by the Christmas tree or the blooming azalea bush.)

As an adult, I tried to make up some ground and dressed up for college street parties. Apparently, cameras were more accessible in the 90’s than the 70’s and 80’s, so all was not lost and I have some memories of my attempts of Halloween dressing up.  But at some point, my Halloween Scrooge-persona emerged and I said, “Goodbye” to costumes, parties and even the candy. This moment, I attribute to a “red rice” incident my senior year.  You figure it out!