Sybil's "Holidays in Hospitals!... it's for the CHILDREN!"...

From the "Get Well Soon" Department!!....... Ted Cruz has voiced his support for the newly opened Hatchapee Holiday Hospital. He claims it helps children with life threatening illnesses and injuries by "motivating them to find healthfulness from within". Completely underfunded by the state, and with no accredited medical staff whatsoever, the board of directors has worked out a program using local prison inmates to come everyday in various cheerful costumes and play with the patients. "Santa", the "Easter Bunny", and many other symbols of the year's Holidays visit with the children for hours and hours on end. On the Fourth of July, a giant walking and talking firecracker complete with a huge burning fuse sneaks into the rooms in the middle of the night and yells "BOOM!" right into the ears of the sleeping children! On Arbor Day a giant "Paul Bunyan" comes in with an ax and an angry bull and chops up bedside furniture. And of course on Halloween....well, you can imagine the fun and funny mischief that a bunch of drooling ghouls can stir up for a child on dialysis!! The program seems to be working too! Even paralyzed children have miraculously dragged themselves out of the wards during the Hanukkah celebrations when the inmates light 8' high menorahs near the draperies and oxygen tanks for the Festival of Lights! Many surrounding states are beginning to take a hard look at the health care situation in their own hospitals and wondering if a "survival of the fittest" approach isn't the best way after all. The new slogan for the campaign is "Scare 'em GOOD! Scare 'em STRAIGHT! ...or Scare 'em TO DEATH!".....

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Sybil Bruncheon’s “CHRISTMASES PAST: ...The story of Lester Schlumvigg...”

Lester Schlumvigg was always crunching numbers at his CPA office on Holidays, never really unwinding and taking time off to visit with friends or his family. He had never married (or even dated seriously!) which had opened him to the suspicions, (whispered mostly) that he was gay. Word of these rumors got back to him which only made him more sour... and less available.

And so it was on this particular Christmas that Lester was finally pranked by some of his coworkers at the office. They had hidden a present for him under his family's tree "from Santa!"..... he opened it, and was talked into putting it on for everyone to see. His parents, his siblings (seven in all), and neighbor friends of his family all began to point and laugh...POINT AND LAUGH!! He couldn't understand why...until they handed him the card that they had opened.... it was a photo of his grandmother in that very sweater. She had been what was referred to as "an ample woman", about 6' 4", 212lbs, and a notorious lady-wrestler in the Midwest's "Beefy Broads Wrestling and Roller-Derby" circuit... and everyone congratulated Lester on how he looked “JUST LIKE HER!!!".....

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Tales From Christmases Past"... Little Bethena Wilkers...

Little Bethena Wilkers!... she had always been at odds with other little girls in the Sister Stephanata Bryerly School that she attended. Instead of classes in cooking, sewing, and home-making, she preferred mathematics, geo-sciences, and physics.... indeed, it was only because her grades were so consistently excellent that the faculty voted unanimously to allow her to take both advanced classes in the subjects she preferred and that she be allowed (chaperoned, of course!) to go to the adjoining St. Athanaseus Boys Academy for them since most of these subjects were not even offered to girls at that time.... 

Bethena thrilled (in her family's case) and confounded (in the boys' case) with her academic brilliance. She completed trigonometry, algebra, geometry, and advanced calculus all by the time she was 11, and she received statewide accolades at science fair competitions with her highly controversial inventions and displays... including on that one particular Christmas in 1930. 

She had decided to create, in honor of her hardworking mother, the Fully-Portable Happy Holiday Home-Maker, a device which allowed "the modern woman to create all the cheer and festivity of the Christmas Season while still maintaining a hygienic home and providing delicious and nutritious meals" as the promotional brochure stated...and it worked! It was a little itchy, especially under the arms, and the zipper placement still had to be finessed, but the blueberry muffins came out of the built-in oven/dishwasher perfectly with the lovely crusted sugar sprinkles on top and the requisite 26 blueberries in each muffin. And the refrigerating unit neither over-chilled the grapefruit juice into slush, nor under-froze the cranberry-papaya sherbet into goop.The washer/dryer/six-burner stove was inspired, and the fold-away formica counters were immaculate and didn't interfere with the vacuum or silver-polishing attachments. The placement of the appliances around the body of the wearer was still in need of some strategizing, but the Christmas lights twinkled merrily, the garlands of popcorn came out of the popper perfectly, and the ornaments remained on their hooks without dropping even when the roller-skate motor was throttled up to full speed...three miles per hour....and faster if you were doing a triple axel, triple toe loop. The one setback was when some tinsel drooped into one of the roller wheels, and little Bethena tripped and spilled the Baked Alaska onto the reviewers' table. "Flammable Foods" had been one of the strictest precautions that the exhibition managers had warned about, (especially after the demonstration about baked beans and hydrogen-filled zeppelins the year before!), but the ever-prepared Bethena saved the day, AND the Baked Alaska! Just under her Christmas star, she had concealed a fire extinguisher/water sprinkler system which not only knocked out the flames, but also provided a chilly blast of CO₂ "snow" to make everyone feel the Christmasy spirit to the max! Clever little Bethena not only received the blue ribbon in her category, "Sciences: Sweet & Savory" but also Best In Show... and a contract with the nice people over at Frigidaire.

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Sybil's "Christmas Tales By The Fireside"...

"And so dear little Children, the sleigh and all the toys careened off the cliff and burst into flame as the townspeople in the valley below pointed and shrieked and tore their hair!!! And that is why we must always remember that "SANTA" is an anagram for S-A-T-A-N!! Now who can tell me what an anagram is??...."

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SYBIL BRUNCHEON’S STORY BOOK CORNER: Holiday Traditions AROUND THE WORLD!! ... PRIPYAT!

Hello, Children from around the world! Are you all writing your special gift-wishes to Santa Claus, Pere Noel, Mr. & Mrs. Weasel, Quetzalcoatl, Cthulu, Zizz X#56Hhsuzsi, or Nan-Cy Boy O’Reilly??? …what!? I haven’t told you about Nan-Cy Boy O’Reilly yet??....well, that’s another story for another time! But today, I want to tell you about the magic Yule trees of the Ukraine. That's where we get the funny little guitar called the Uke-relele. Can you say, "You-Cray-Lay-Lee"??

Our Ukrainian friends who live in a nice little town called Pripyat had a Christmas adventure many years ago….can you say “Prip-Yat”?? It means “Glows-in-the-dark”. Well, one day, all the papas and mamas (or батьки і матері, as the little ones call them!) went into the woods on December 24th or The Feast of the Talking Forest to gather the special Christmas trees for the Holiday. The tradition was that the elders of the villages would sing special songs and dance around the trees to ask the tree-spirits for their blessing before they were cut down. If the tree-spirits gave their blessings, then there would be mild whispering winds through the air almost like music and the squirrels and little birds would bring nuts, berries, lost coins, and stolen costume jewelry, and the grown-ups would know that the coming year would be full of health, prosperity, and good omens.

That night hundreds of trees were cut down and dragged through the dark to cozy homes with toasty fireplaces and waiting children, singing loudly, clapping their hands, dancing and leaping, and breaking things. The trees were brought into all the front rooms, stood up and braced into waiting pots of fresh mountain water and spiced cider with cloves and raisins “to make them happy”, and decorated with candles and beautiful handmade ornaments, many of which dated back for generations in each household to ancestors fondly remembered in stories, songs, and crayon drawings.

Then, as the custom dictated, every family member would approach the tree and kneel with a special gift and a poem of thanks and love written especially for the tree on that occasion. All the gifts would be laid at the foot of the beloved tree, in dedication to its arrival in the household, and to ask that it would tell Santa to leave special presents for its household and the sweet children it watched over. Then everyone would scamper off to bed, laughing, singing, bragging about who would get what presents, and giving one last wink and a wave to the tree as it stood silently in the great room lit by firelight and the cheer of the Holiday.

Oh, Children! Oh, dear sweet Children!! Imagine what people thought on Christmas Day when they ran down the stairs as the sun just began to clear the horizon line at 2 in the afternoon!! There were NO presents of any kind! NONE!...because Santa had been prevented from getting within a 200 mile radius of little Pripyat….and there were fighter jets chasing him away with bad missiles…and even guns and shouting over loudspeakers! But that wasn’t the worst of it! Oh NO! For not only were there NO presents. The trees themselves had grown! YES!! GROWN!! Many of the sweet trees had now reached the ceiling with their topmost branches. The Holy Christmas stars were now pressed against the plaster, breaking it in places, or bending the points off of the fine heirlooms that grandpas had made with their own wrinkled hands.

And that was only the beginning….as each day went by, the trees grew taller and taller…some of them began to sprout new and oddly shaped limbs with strangely colored pine needles that looked like faces or toes, and smelled like grandma’s old socks… or her underpants. By the 6th day of the Holiday week, many trees had broken through windows and doors, had eaten food out of the larders and pantries, and even chased pets and stepped on them. By the 12th and final day of the celebration, most homes were now abandoned to roving gangs of gigantic, grotesque “tree-things” that set fires, urinated in public places, pinched ladies bottoms, and told overly long jokes with no punchlines. And THAT was the terrible/wonderful Christmas present that everyone got from Chernobyl. Tell me, Children, how many of you would like to visit exciting places like Pripyat someday???

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A New Sybil's "WHO'Z DAT?"... MARGARET HAMILTON (December 9, 1902 – May 16, 1985)

Margaret Brainard Hamilton (December 9, 1902 – May 16, 1985) was an American film character actress best known for her portrayal of the Wicked Witch of the West in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's classic film The Wizard of Oz (1939).

A former schoolteacher, she worked as a character actress in films for seven years before she was offered the role that defined her public image. The Wicked Witch of the West was eventually ranked No. 4 in the American Film Institute's 2003 list of the 50 Best Movie Villains of All Time, making her the top ranking female villain. In later years, Hamilton made frequent cameo appearances on television sitcoms and commercials. She also gained recognition for her work as an advocate of causes designed to benefit children and animals, and retained a lifelong commitment to public education.

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Sybil Bruncheon's REFLECTIONS ON FUNERALS... on the occasion of George H. W. Bush's passing...

But what about me... and my, um... eventual departure? Will anyone speak well of me at an 8 hour funeral or maybe TWO funerals?...in different STATES???... and TIME ZONES!....with dignitaries from all over the world, some of whom will completely ignore each other or shun each other... or even come to blows over how much they miss me, and ALL of them there to eulogize me! And what about one parade and procession after another?... from the funeral home to the church-- No! THE CATHEDRAL!!... and then to the cemetery, but just to look at it because we've chosen a different, much better and fancier cemetery... with fountains and statues and elaborate multi-storied mausoleums with attached residences...or even resort hotels!... And the hearse! Should it be a Duesenberg or a Cord...or even a rare 1905 Isotta-Fraschini with a leopard-skin-lined (faux, of course) coffin...or SARCOPHAGUS!... or maybe I could just be taken in a deluxe Red Flyer Wagon drawn by dozens of musclemen clad only in loincloths... or maybe just a gaggle of llamas. And what about banquets before and after all the ceremonies... and then served al fresco at the grave site with dozens of courses of the most exotic foods and delicacies, many of which are named after me.

Be honest! Haven't I bravely served my fellow Americans daily with humor, charm, wisdom, patience, insight, tenderness, compassion,... and recipes, all delicious, nutritious, and some attempting to be low calorie… or at least claiming to be?

Haven't I sung enough songs, recited poetry and limericks, detailed historical anecdotes, commiserated on the loss of parents and pets and cheap costume jewelry, instructed young and old alike on first-aid and herbal remedies, taught office and housekeeping skills, and congratulated complete strangers on litters of kittens, recovered friendship bracelets, reunions with former lovers and strip-poker pals, successful bankruptcies, promotions at petting zoos, and graduations from juggling school.

Haven't I spent years posting daily Birthday wishes with funny captions and amusing photos to literally thousands of people across our great nation and even overseas... personalized too with the recipient's actual name written in the heart-felt message? And haven't I been surrounded by adoring sparrows, grackles, and squirrels because of my nurturing nature, and haven't I terrorized presidents and pompous bullies with my implacable and justified anger?

Haven't I labored on in sickness and injury, through heartbreak and financial ruin, fulfilling my duties as THE Sybil Bruncheon with no complaint... or very little, and only on rare occasions, usually involving talking on the Amtrak Quiet Car or endless shlunking by non-paying customers at various Starbucks nation-wide. Haven't I jostled bingo balls, read endless trivia questions, and done hundreds of impressions of famous and infamous people, often indecipherable.

Don't I deserve some sort of fancy acknowledgement??... even a piñata shaped like a donkey, a cucumber, or the Hindenburg hung over my casket (open, please... or, if I've put on too much weight, draped in the flag of Greater and Lesser Marnier and the Triple Sec Islands). And if we can't have one military band or another play an assortment of Sousa marches and heart-felt hymns, can someone please remember to put on a nice medley of Patti Page, Eddie Fisher, Connie Francis and Yma Sumac 45s on a cute little Zenith portable record player while the gay waitstaff lip-syncs?… or hums along on a kazoo?

Is any of this too much to ask?... or expect?... or hope for?... Really! You’d think I was asking for the moon!

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Sybil Bruncheon's "Thanksgiving Tales From Far & Near!"...

A little known fact about the famous von Trapp family from THE SOUND OF MUSIC; after their harrowing escape from the Nazis and their trek over the Alps to safety and freedom in Switzerland, the entire family continued on disguised as motorized figures in giant cuckoo clocks and oversized Hummels on music boxes. Amazingly, the trick worked, probably because most Europeans consider the Swiss incapable of irony or indeed humor. At any rate, the entire family arrived on American shores safely in 1945 and after being held on Ellis Island as suspected marionettes, they were released to begin life in Sunnyside Queens. Some of the older children as they grew up scattered to different parts of the country. They were well-known characters in the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, and wanted to escape their notoriety, changing their last names legally. But it was the youngest and least known of the von Trapp children who were born after the family had arrived in the USA who decided to go into business in the NYC area. They were Weasil von Trapp (later arrested for pickpocketing and petty theft and Ponzi scams), Ganif von Trapp (notorious scam-artist and moocher off his siblings, Streudel von Trapp (alternately an anorexic and bulimic), and Anshul von Trapp (later gender-reassigned to become Yentyl von Trapp). These four children opened a drive-in diner named Der Wienerschnitzel on the corner of 41st Street and Greenpoint Avenue. It specialized in the eponymous weinerschnitzel, but also in burgers and fries, moo goo gai pan, and holiday leftovers. Their turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and yam open faced sandwich was a triumph! But only on Black Friday. When the Macy's Discount and Seconds Mart later closed next door, the von Trapp's were wiped out. Even as they tried to recreate the "Lonely Goatherd" motif at their breakfast counter! Complete with goat omelets for the Dominican and Haitian customers.

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Sybil Bruncheon’s “My Merry Memoirs”… Chapter 17; Magic and Vaudeville in Poka-Ma-Hontas, Idaho.

Did I ever tell you about the first dollar I ever made as an actress? Well, it wasn’t exactly a dollar… I made a nickel, just 5 cents, for every performance at the Poka-Ma-Hontas Prairie Palace Of Pleasantries and Perfidy, and I wasn’t exactly acting. You see, a well-known magician on the Pawnee Bill Circuit named “Bizmo the Baffling” asked my parents if he could borrow me for a new gimmick he wanted to try out on a Wednesday matinée. The trick involved an old trunk that he rigged up with an ingenious trap door and hidden shelf system. He’d turn the trunk around on a small turntable in front of the audience, then open the trunk and tip it on its side to show that it was completely empty. He’d close the trunk back up again and, with a great flourish, run it through with a dozen different swords, rapiers, and scimitars that he’d picked up from junk shops in his travels. He’d open the trunk again, tip it on its side again, for the audiences to see that it was still completely empty but thoroughly skewered with blades from one side to the other. Finally, he’d tip the box back upright, close the lid, and then as he slowly withdrew all the blades, he’d tell the audience that he’d discovered the ghost of a little girl named Sybil who haunted the box, perhaps because of some long forgotten tragedy… possibly from a magic show gone wrong. Terribly wrong!

          This caused a hush to fall over the crowd. The thought of anything tragic befalling a child, either an accident or even a crime, was unexpected in the broad and bawdy theatrics of Vaudeville, and Bizmo deliberately left a vague, uneasy impression about what might have befallen his little “Sybil-Ghost”. As the lights dimmed, strange music wafted from backstage provided by the Philpott sisters on oboe, bassoon and a bongo. Bizmo, who had donned a somewhat threadbare turban in turquoise satin with a chipped cameo and some tassels, would begin to chant magic incantations while waving a slightly bent magic wand. He then would exhort the audience to summon little Sybil! “Call to her! Call out to her!” he would urge. No one would, of course… they were too embarrassed to fall for such an obvious piece of tom-foolery.

            So, Bizmo would pull out a small brass bell with a quaintly carved and turned wooden handle. He’d show it to the audience and say that the bell had been the very one that summoned Sybil from the playground into the schoolroom where her favorite teacher, Mrs. Edelin sat. But the bell would no longer ring now that little Sybil was dead. (In truth, he had removed the tiny clapper, but didn’t show that to the crowd.) With another flourish and a great deal of gravitas, Bizmo placed the bell on the trunk’s closed lid and told the audience that he always knew when Sybil was close by. Whenever she had wandered back from “the other side” and was near… the bell, untouched, would ring, sitting right where he had placed it. That would make the audience lean forward, their giggling at calling her name forgotten now, and the more credulous looking one to the other, unsure suddenly about what was happening; the darkened room, the haunting music, and the expectant stillness… as they waited.

             Bizmo in a hushed voice now, husky with emotion, would again ask the crowd to call to Sybil… even a whispered entreaty might work… just whispered. And that’s when the first tremulous “Sybil” would come from some back row seat. Then another… and another. People who had been too embarrassed to do so only a few minutes before, now began to murmur the name again and again… eyes wet with excitement, anticipation, even fear and elation… “Sybil. Sybil.. SYBIL!”… and then! The bell would tinkle… faintly. Sitting perfectly still on the old gnarled trunk, it’s sweet, silvery voice would tinkle faintly… as if from a great distance… or another dimension.

               And the audience! Oh, the audience would gasp, and maybe even let out small shouts of terror… or joy… or both. And then! The knock! Oh yes. Small, but clear… from INSIDE the trunk, perhaps on the side… or near the back… then another, and another, moving around the inside of the trunk to the front! The FRONT! Facing the audience. Right in front of the audience!!… something was inside the trunk now, and it was separated from the audience by a battered old wooden wall and nothing else! The ghost of a little girl named Sybil was inside the room, inside that trunk, and in front of the crowd where even the skeptics now sat transfixed, as the bell tinkled louder and closer, and the knocks began to pick up speed and fury. The electricity in the air grew and grew as the music reached a crescendo! And then… silence. No bell. No knocking… just silence.

                Bizmo with a great show of trepidation and caution slowly turned the trunk around on the turntable one last time and went to lift the lid! But at that moment, the lid would fly open with a huge boom sending the bell crashing across the room. Bizmo and the crowd would scream in terror as he flew backwards to the floor pointing in horror at the open trunk… and out would pop… a bunny!.. The crowd would roar! The bunny was followed by a squirrel, a dove, an owl, a ferret, a monkey, a puppy, all to greater and greater peels of hysterical laughter… until, after a long loaded pause…  and in gathering silence, it peeked over the splintery edge, the “ghost” of little Sybil. Her curly auburn hair and green eyes shining, sparkling really in the twilight of a small pin-spot carefully tinted a pale blue to hint at her otherworldliness… her “ghostliness”.

               As young as I was, I had understood enough to know how to follow all of Bizmo’s instructions carefully; how to keep all the animals calm and ready, how to make all the sound effects from inside the trunk and in complete pitch blackness, to knock on the walls, to ring the little matching bell, all of it. But as professional as he delightedly claimed I was, I still remained the thunderstruck child every time I peeked over the edge at those staring audiences out in the dark. I couldn’t see much past the first few rows beyond the footlights, but I could see enough… eyes and mouths wide open, handkerchiefs clutched in tight fists. And the sounds… yes, the chuckled relief when the first animals had climbed or jumped out of the trunk… and then, the tumble of gasps, ohs and ahs, and even words as I, Sybil the Ghost, showed herself to a stunned crowd. From that very first Wednesday matinée, I was hooked… a pathetically overjoyed addict to the magic, not of Bizmo’s trunk with its rickety trap-door and trick shelf, but to Bizmo’s real magic… the magic of making people, any people, even strangers, or your own parents, stare in wonder at you. Oh God, even at four, I would have sold my very soul to have done so. But I was lucky. A second-string magician with begged, borrowed, and perhaps even stolen Vaudeville props and a wonderful menagerie of patient little animals delivered me, soul intact and so very blessed into the arms of all those staring strangers… and Bizmo, standing by with tears streaming down his laughing face… My savior.

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Sybil Bruncheon's A Tale for Thanksgiving Time: "SUBURBAN STORIES THAT STUN AND STUPEFY"...

The warning signs had been there for several months. Mrs. Ruth Anne Snively of 1148 Pembroke Lane had complained to her neighbors of strange voices, coming at first from the telephone, the radio, the television where it seemed strange voices always might have been heard. Indeed, "Ruthie", as she was known to all the Girl Scout Troop mothers, had been known for her quick wit, her sparkling sense of humor, her quirky imagination, and for her desire to be a stand-up comedian in local clubs "once the kids have grown up" as she put it. She even managed a couple of tentative debuts at the local Kiwanis and Shriner's clubs where her little act was described by the local critics as "refreshing"....and "a charming bit of whimsical and timely fluff filled with social commentary and some recipes".

Perhaps it was no surprise when Mrs. Snively began to exhibit eccentricities like a growing diet of Hostess Ding Dongs, Pringles Potato Chips, and vegan "beef" jerky. Frequently, she would answer her front door with facial masks of Marshmallow Fluff and Peter Pan Extra-Crunchy Peanut Butter. Her dependence on increasing dosages of St. Joseph's Aspirin for Children did not go unnoticed at PTA meetings...And on weekends, she could be found incoherent in back alleyways completely drunk on cocktails of Tang ....and Woolite....and Maraschino cherries. After her husband Arthur left her taking the children to Chillicothe, her friends tried interventions and enlisting the aid of the Come To Jesus Society Of Sobriety down on Walnut Street... but nothing worked.

It was finally on that terrible day in January when Snively wandered into her kitchen and overheard all her appliances talking behind her back. Oh yes!..They quickly smiled and pretended to change the subject, but it was too late. She had heard the worst!...and the jokes at her expense.... comments about "that tired old apron", and her "water-weight gain after the Holidays".....It was all too much! TOO MUCH!...and so, lovely, sweet, witty Mrs. Ruth Anne Snively calmly went to her former friend the Sunbeam waffle maker, laid her perfectly coiffed head down on its non-stick surface, and slowly pressed herself into a fluffy breakfast treat for the police to find later in the afternoon. Her suicide note was found on the counter beside an unopened bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's and a virgin stick of Land 'O' Lakes lightly salted butter. (You know Land 'O' Lakes? The one with the Indian maiden on the front whose knees look like breasts??)

Well, Ruth is now being treated for first degree burns and minor cheek-dimpling at Flower Of Mercy Hospital downtown, and will be receiving a lovely re-contouring of her complexion while being housed in their newly opened Extreme Neurosis Wing. She's slowly being re-acclimated to Kitchen Chore duty.... but under strict (and loving!) supervision.... (she continues to wear earplugs to ...shut out.. "unwelcome" chatter"...)

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