Wordplay’s Official Policy on Zombies

The other day, I was making a joke on Facebook about zombies, and here today I want to make a clarification. I wasn’t talking about zombies in the sense of the reanimated dead of Haitian tradition but rather in the pop culture sense familiar to us all, plus I was being a little sarcastic. But please don’t shoot the messenger: I can’t think of another metaphor that better describes some of the strange things I’ve seen in recent years. It really began in earnest in 2016, a year so full of celebrity deaths that I commented to someone that I wondered if some of those folks were really going undercover to work for the government.

I don’t want to be insensitive here, since of course people do die in large numbers all the time and are mourned by the people they leave behind. I’m not trying to create doubt in anyone’s mind about the fates of their dearly departed friends and family. I’ve mourned deaths of loved ones of my own, and as much as I miss them, I have no doubt that I won’t see them again in this life. I’ve told a few people the story of how I once saw someone who looked exactly like my dad, who had been dead for almost 12 years at that point, and I believe I was misunderstood by some of the people I told. I didn’t conjure up a hallucination of my dad, I saw an actual person who looked exactly like him. I’m sure the illusion would have been dispelled had I walked up to the man and talked to him, but I didn’t. It was just another bizarre incident in a string of many at that time.

The puzzle to me was why it happened and how it happened. I recently read an article about the retirement of the CIA’s master of disguises in which some of the agency’s very impressive methods of subterfuge, pioneered by this official, were described. When I read that the capability exists to create a mask of one person that will make a different individual look exactly like the first, the question of “how” such a thing might occur was no longer a mystery. I’m not suggesting that the CIA sent someone made up to look like my dad to the hospital to scare me; I’m merely pointing out that this technology exists and can be used by anyone with access to it. Prior to that, my idea of altering a person’s appearance extended to heavy makeup à la Hollywood; I never dreamed you could actually recreate the face of another person with such exactitude.

As far as the living dead go, I almost feel I should make a statement (or perhaps there is an appropriate Voudon ritual for keeping them away?) to describe my feelings about all of this. In a nutshell, it’s creepy. It’s become common for me to see people who resemble other people but are definitely not them, and that’s weird enough, but seeing people who are supposed to be dead is another category of experience altogether, and not a welcome one. From former English professors to comedians to fiddling musicians, all of whom have been reported as “deceased” by numerous sources, I’ve seen it all over the last few years. And none of these encounters were with people I had any emotional attachment to; it’s just that the feeling of recognition was so strong that I was almost sure I couldn’t be imagining it.

So Wordplay’s official stance on the living dead flitting hither and yon among us is, “We disapprove.” We’d ask you to go haunt someone else, but that really wouldn’t be kind either. We don’t wish that type of experience on anyone, as the times are disconcerting enough without that. Now, that’s not to say there aren’t those whom the world would probably welcome back with open arms, should it turn out that reports of their deaths were greatly exaggerated: no doubt Robin Williams, whom I thought I spotted on the L.A. Red Line in 2017, would be one of these. Prince would probably get a pass, too. But dying is no small matter, to the person doing it or to those left behind, and trifling with death or the appearance thereof seems to me to be bad mojo, unless it is for a very good reason indeed.

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice demonstrates how hazardous it is to try to come back to the land of the living from the Underworld. If Eurydice, guided by Orpheus, with a special dispensation, couldn’t do it, it indicates that the borders truly aren’t meant to be permeable. Think of your state of mind if all of sudden anyone—from your long-dead grandmother to your bullying deceased ex-husband—might pay you a call at any time from beyond the River Styx. You might think the prospect of getting to see someone you’ve dearly missed again would be wonderful, but just think: if they can get through, anyone can, including that college roommate you did an ill turn for all those years ago or the teacher who terrified you as a child.

If by some chance Robin Williams really is out there somewhere, let me just say that if I actually did see him in L.A., grinning to himself while dressed as an Asian tourist on the subway, that was about the only time I didn’t get a bad vibe from a “zombie” encounter. I can’t really explain why not, except that this person gave off such an aura of good humor that it never occurred to me to be scared or upset. What it was all about, though, I haven’t the foggiest. I imagine you could see a lot of strange things in Hollywood, but if I’m honest, I have to say I was about 80 percent convinced that it really was Robin Williams on the train that day. I’ll leave 20 percent room for doubt because, after all, it was L.A.

Masks

The fall colors are turning fiery, the autumn wind is blowing ("O, wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being"--Shelley), and my Halloween cookies are baked. This, then, is my Halloween post. I'm always bemused by Halloween. As a kid, all I had to do was dive in and enjoy it, which I did. Once you grow up, and going around asking people for candy (with every expectation that they'll give it to you) is no longer an option, your choices, in my opinion, are much less satisfying.

You can become the kind of adult who goes to costume parties cleverly attired as a zombie or a politician and stands around drinking spiked punch, or you can be the kind that sets out spooky and/or humorous yard displays and hands out candy to the kids. There's also a third set of options if you're like me and live in an apartment building that doesn't get pint-sized trick-or-treaters or offer any lawn decoration opportunities--in which case, you can either do nothing, watch a scary movie, set out a themed candle or candy dish, or bake cookies in Halloween shapes. Since your actual responsibilities are zilch, any degree of participation is up to you. 

I usually just think about how much I enjoyed Halloween as a kid, feel a bit nostalgic, and eat some cookies (I used to set out a "pumpkin" candle holder, but I think it's in the back of the cabinet somewhere). I'm guessing that most people with kids at home re-live their childhood memories by making Halloween fun for their own children, and that sounds to me like a reasonable way to approach things. 

Many people will disagree with me on this, but I'm not really a fan of adults dressing up as ghouls and things on Halloween. One of the things I remember about childhood Halloweens was that the fun was anchored in a sense of safety. You were wandering around outside after dark in a way you never would normally, dressed as someone you definitely were not, tripping over your hem and wearing a mask, and there was certainly something at large, a special Halloween spookiness. Then you'd knock on someone's door and a solid and ordinary-looking adult that you'd seen dozens of times would answer with a bag of Butterfingers or boxes of Milk Duds, reminding you that no matter how thin the membrane between ordinary reality and the otherworld on All Hallows Eve, you could reach out and touch normal reality at any time. When there are too many big people running around in masks, it starts to seem more like real pandemonium.

I have a prejudice against masks. I was thinking about this the other night and how much in the minority I may be on the issue when I happened to read, in a memoir, about someone else's distaste for masks in the context of her visit to Venice. I think my dislike stems from the knowledge that the human face itself is a mask par excellence, requiring much skill and patience to read. If the human countenance is already a disguise (and I admit that it may sometimes be a protective disguise--a necessary thing), adding additional layers of covering seems to complicate reality a bit too much. It's a little like Inception, the movie in which dream architects find a way to enter into and function in alternative layers of consciousness, making base-level reality difficult to ascertain after a while. Which face is really yours, this one or that one?

I'm not against costumes, though. Who doesn't like to dress up? My idea of fun would be to separate the adult festivities from the children's on All Hallows, so that the adults were there to supervise the kids on Halloween and then had their own parties on All Saint's or All Soul's day. I could see saying something like, "OK, the theme is the Eighteenth Century." Or possibly, "Come as your favorite character from either Shakespeare or Mark Twain. Interpret this any way you like--only no masks." I think the fun of seeing people caught in an out-of-context sartorial challenge would be much greater than trying to figure out who's behind what mask.

You'd always have to keep a few straw hats or jerkins on hand for people who showed up without one, and you'd have the burden of trying to figure out what kind of food to serve to people dressed up as Mozart or Martha Washington. But it would be worth it, wouldn't it?