No worse for the curse

Some of you will recognize this as the poster image for Poltergeist, a movie about a family that moves into a new family housing project built on top of an ancient Indian burial ground. 

The ghosts of the Indians are not happy, though they never seemed to get upset with the construction of the nearby Chick Filet or Best Buy, and decide to wreak havoc on the family. 

The movie was one the first major successes for a young writer by the name of Steven Spielberg.

It was also my first major contact with Hollywood people. 

You see, at the time of the movie's release I was managing the kitchen for a booming restaurant on Santa Monica Blvd. It was a cowboy-themed Steak & Rib House with sawdust on the floor and a mechanical bull sitting center stage.

It was here that I developed a healthy appreciation for any kind of music that wasn't country western. 

In order to supplement the sometimes-sagging restaurant revenue, the owner rented the space out for private parties. Our first was the wrap party for Poltergeist. It was a night to remember. I met the Director, the Producers and the entire cast. 

Little did I know, that like the characters they played in the film, their time on Earth was limited.

To date, the curse has only struck cast members and not those tangentially affiliated with the movie, like the fat guy from NY (me) who made the ribs and steak and gourmet macaroni and cheese. 

And in keeping with this week's theme (see yesterday's post), that's the positive spin of today's story. 

If anything, my life has been blessed. With a beautiful wife, two smart and sassy daughters, a home, a job, and friends and family that for some unknown reason are willing to put up with my shit. 

No Poltergeist Curse here.

I have to cut this posting short. My wife was just about to take a bath and she told me the lightbulb above the tub needs changing...