Goodbye Sam Hain

We named our rock group Sam Hain because we only play on Halloween. I guess you'd call us a novelty band because we wear big pointy hats and robes and have a bubbling cauldron on stage with us. The magic is real, but we let everyone think it's just special effects.

It was our 'sexy witch' Judy who came up with the idea because we were so busy with our normal lives that we couldn't find a good time to get everyone together and jam out. 

Amberlee was busy taking care of her aging parents. It's a full time job.

Animal, bass guitarist, recently moved to Australia, and was understandably jittery about making multiple transatlantic flights on a broom. One time a chance encounter with a seagull left her stranded off the coast of Kiribati for a month.

Lead guitarist Kerry Weird had two kids to take care of, one ten, the other in high school, all by herself, plus the job at the warehouse.

Our drummer Sheryl lost her driver's license and her flying vacuum cleaner...didn't. Plus her legs kept swelling up.

Judy herself was an administrative assistant with a lot on her plate.

Our choice of venue had always been Sonic Boom on 35th Street, a seedy little red brick dive next door to an auto body shop. Cheap beer, bottomless nachos, and a female owner that let us decorate and do whatever the hell we wanted in our corner of the building from 10 P.M. October 30 to 2 A.M. November 1.

Dim lighting, the bar with its two big screens and shiny liquor display being the brightest spot in the joint. No windows save the front door's. Only a handful of booths and tables, most of the cushions duct taped together. 

Kerry, Judy and I arrived first, setting up the speaker system, drums and so forth on the carpeted risers. The owner had decorated for Halloween, but it was sort of lazy, last year's stuff she'd dug out from the closet, cheap spider webbing, a plastic skeleton from some doctor's office with a pirate hat and eyepatch, and a bunch of hanging cardboard holiday scenes that belonged in a preschool. The room smelled of Mexican food, beer, and despite how it wasn't permitted indoors, cigarettes. The sound system played Ministry's Every Day Is Halloween - Betty had a whole collection of CDs, Tubular Bells, the theme to Rocky Horror Picture Show...

As usual, I had on my Harry Potter prep scool uniform with the sleeves ripped off. Judy, of course, wore her trademark leather pants and plunging camisole top, though at her stage of pregnancy she probably shouldn't have. She also did a lot more work than she should have, despite our repeated offers to take over.

I discovered also that Kerry's cat familiar wouldn't be aiding our performance - the little darling had strep , unable to sing a note for us, and someone had to pass out candy and make sure the kids didn't burn the house down.

The cauldron positively refused to boil, and we couldn't just run out and buy a dozen live frogs at Price Chopper. Dry ice and Kerry's rotating multicolored nursery lamp would have to be sufficient. We had to wear masks until we played, or drank a beer, of course. Couldn't magic our way out of that.

As Kerry tuned the guitars, I heard someone shout, "Oh blooming hell!"

Animal was having problems getting her alligator through the door. You see, she had taken an airplane this year, and Customs didn't like her original guitar case, so she...well, to make a long story short, she bought a taxidermy alligator, and now she couldn't get the ridiculously oversized item into the bar. Her widebrim hat had fallen on the sidewalk, her outlandish frilled lizard jacket caught on the door handle.

"You think you could get a somewhat larger alligator next time?" I joked.

"Oh stuff it and give me a hand with this bleedin' thing before I turn you into a mushroom!"

I helped her get the case inside. By the time the bass was out and plugged in an amp, Sheryl had arrived, winded from merely walking from the parking lot to the riser. "Guys, I don't think I can do this anymore..." She gasped for air a couple times. "This'll be my last show. You see, I just got out of the hospital..."

The woman hadn't told us a thing until that very moment. She always kept everything private. Apparently, she'd fallen down in the bathroom, and had lain there for hours before gaining enough strength to crawl to the phone and get an ambulance.

"Gee, I'm sorry. You could have called me. "

"Or any one of us," pregnant Judy agreed.

Sheryl seemed to be offended by the suggestion. "I'm fine! It's just hard for me to walk with this replacement knee. Plus after my most recent heart valve operation, I probably shouldn't be straining myself more than I have to." 

That got us really worried. "Is it...safe for you to perform?"

Sheryl shrugged. "Oh, as long as we take it slow and easy, and I get some rest in between sets, I should be fine. Like I said, this is going to be my last show."

"I hope you don't mean literally. I'm fresh out of resurrection spells."

Sheryl giggled. "That's funny."

Not to me it wasn't.

"Mates," said animal. "I'm done too. This yearly trip to the U.S., it's for the birds."

Judy, desperate to keep us together, pleaded her case. "Guys, it's only once a year. I mean, look at me. Do you see me complaining?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I hope you're not suggesting that Sheryl stay in the band."

"No, no, I-"

Animal seemed to guess what she meant, changing the subject to Judy's pants. "Did you have those let out, or did you buy new ones?"

Judy rolled her eyes. "Honey, I'm a witch. I can make anything change its size."

Animal snorted. "Methinks you had way too much fun with that particular talent." She patted her stomach to indicate what she meant. "How far along are you, anyway?"

"Oh, just a couple months."

"It's three," said Kerry.

"It's not three!"

"Nine, then."

"What!"

With a mischievous grin, Kerry continued. "Her water's going to break any minute now. Make sure you got the hot water and towels ready!"

Judy punched her in the shoulder. "That's for jinxing me."

"So where's the boyfriend?" Animal asked.

"Husband." Judy flashed a ring.

Animal gasped. "When did this happen?"

"Last month."

"Oh you rat! You didn't tell me! I would have come!"

"Twice in one year? I thought once was pushing it. Besides, you're not that easy to contact."

"So sue me for living off the grid with the aboriginals." She sighed. "Where's Amberlee?"

"Her dad has Covid," said Kerry. "Sorry, guys. It looks like we're down to five. No keyboard tonight."

We commenced our normal warm ups, plotted out our set list.

Afraid for Sheryl's ticker, I kept trying to steer the lineup toward slow songs, but our drummer was all fired up to, as the Dire Straits put it, 'Bang on the drums like a chimpanzee.'

"So. The classic list."

Sheryl nodded. "For old time's sake."

We practiced. We played. It was magical.

Sheryl didn't die. She got plenty of rest when the Crypt Kicker Five performed in between. Judy's baby didn't make a splashdown. Kerry's kids didn't burn her house down.

As we got through the set of 'I Turned Him into a Horny Toad,' 'No No Never Will Maybe Sure Okay' and 'Bubbling Cauldrons of Red Hot Love,' we all knew our band had come to an end, like the Beatles playing on the rooftop for their final farewell. At 2 A.M., when Betty closed the till and started shutting off the lights, we embraced each other, wishing only the best.

That night, to me, was more magical than anything I or my fellow witches could have cooked up with any wand.