The Swami Speaks



Do you you live in a "competitive" neighborhood? Has "keeping up with the Jones'" reached a whole new level? In the serene mountains of Virginia there is a battle being fought, a skirmish reminiscent of the Hatfield-McCoy feuds which occurred decades ago in a region just west of my home. No live rounds are being fired, no property lines are challenged. This is a war of a different kind. This is a blitzkrieg of one-upsmanship.



For the past ten years a small three block area has been the site of holiday decorations gone wild. It all started innocently with a few Christmas bulbs, a step-stoop pumpkin for Halloween, and maybe a sparkler or two on July 4th. No one new then how this conflict would grow.



This year the games began in July with an explosive aerial show that would make Baghdad look like a quiet neighborhood. Illegal rockets soared skyward as neighbor battled neighbor for supremacy of the heavens over Windsor Avenue (my smuggled stash from South Carolina shamed them all). Oh yes, I do indulge in this childish conflict. Should I just let the Jones' bomb me into the stone age, while spent mortar rounds land on my roof. Not on your life Buster!



Next was Halloween, the grand-daddy of all holidays in this neck of the woods. Christmas is big around here, but Halloween breads creativity that often ups the stakes and this year was no different.



Word at it that Joe Bear (a tool salesperson who lives directly behind me) has a little something special for all of us this year. Last year Joe constructed an elaborate "Wizard of Oz" set on his front yard, complete with flying monkeys zip-lining from tree to tree. Martha Hughes was always a contender with her cauldron full of five alarm chili, which she stirred and served in full witch gear. Mrs. Deyerle, a widow who lives next door often has life-sized dummies impaled on stakes adorning her from yard, but I think she has finally surrendered to the younger crowd, opting to dispense doorfront treats in a more traditional way.



As darkness descended on the final day of October I began to launch my own plan. This year I would be "Swami Jon" the all-knowing, crystal ball gazing mystic and sultan of sweet treats. My crystal was a flipped over fish bowl and my turban was fashion out of aluminum foil. I thought my head-gear looked great until a young visitor remarked that it looked like I was making Jiffy-Pop on my head. Nevertheless, I was ready.



Before forking over the candy, I would stop each trick-or-treater and proclaim "The bubble-gum is yours Sahib, but first I must read your fortune." I would gaze into the ball and make a prediction related to their costume. To a tiny girl dressed as Snow White I offered the prophetic words "you will meet six... no SEVEN dwarfs in the forest." She stared blankly as if to say "Grow-up mister," grabbed a Hershey's Crunch Bar and left. I did get a laugh from a kid dressed as Darth Vader when I correctly predicted that he would be killed by his son in the third movie.



One future attorney asked for my credentials, postulating that I was not a true seer. I assured him that I was genuine and that the famous dish "Veal Swami Jon" was indeed named after me by a thankful client. Overall, I was pretty much a flop as a swami. When I child dressed as the Grim Reaper darkened by door I abdicated my post and sighed "I knew I would be seeing you sooner or later."



Meanwhile, Joe Bear stole the night, converting the entire front of his house into a pirate ship. Cannon blasts echoed throughout the night and kids dug into sweet goodies contained in a full-sized treasure chest. My Jiffy-Pop crown just didn't cut it.



Thanksgiving is coming up. What do you think about a twenty-foot remote controlled turkey that flies around the hood dropping stuffing in it's wake? All I need is some foil and four D batteries.