Roll through my neighborhood this
time of year and you will spot not only countless trucks and cars up on cinder
blocks, but also tons of Halloween decorations.
Scarecrows, pumpkins, bales of
straw and cornstalks, stuffed witches, and the customary chrysanthemums, dot
the landscape. This gives the impression
time is nigh for the young ghosts and goblins to traipse about the streets
begging for treats on lieu of tricks.
The Eastern
Shore capitalizes on this special time of year with wine and
cheese festivals, oyster roasts, barbeque chicken dinners, and firehouse
fundraisers.
You see, the firehouses on The
Shore are primarily staffed by volunteers – a Latin term meaning “good ol’
boys, ONLY!”
Betwixt the final NASCAR races of
the season are varying winter prepping activities to include lawn mowing (or
grass cutting depending on how rednecky you are), raking leaves, lawn aerating,
cleaning gutters, and generally winterizing your homestead.
Outdoor power equipment must be
drained of unused gasoline and replaced with a stabilizing juice that will
allow your tools to eventually be restarted in the spring.
Boats need attention, too. Ensuring anti-freeze replaces the precious
cooling water from the other three seasons will prevent cracked engine blocks and
rupture pipes, a costly mistake that is usually made and learned exactly once.
These annual rituals are minor
tasks compared to the expensive repairs needed when they are skipped, whether
intentionally or not.
And so the winter work begins.
While I was swapping stabilizing
fluid for gas, my mind began wandering to when I was a kid with only one thing
on my mind: Trick or Treating.
I grew up in a very cold climate
where Halloween costumes were covered by warm parkas and mittens. Masks were a no-no because they would freeze
onto your face resulting in a crying episode when your Mother would attempt to
yank it off; it wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds.
Neighbors were different
then. The old widows would pass out
homemade popcorn balls, or candied apples, or loose change in the amount of 3
or 4 cents.
 |
| Not me and the boys |
We traditionally scared the
neighbors in bands of five, or so, kids.
We weren’t car thieves, or vandals, or a sect of the Hell’s Angels. We were your paper boys, lawn mowing kids,
and children who made a few cents off shoveling your sidewalks and driveways. Still, we wanted that seasonal loot in the
form of candy.
In retrospect, I don’t believe we
really fooled anyone of our treaters; they simply played along. And everyone was happy.
The evening would end with a
television movie. We didn’t have cable
or satellite or VCRs. We had rabbit ears
carefully wrapped in aluminum foil that would impress NASA engineers.
Halloween movies were horror flicks
such as Frankenstein, The Mummy, Dracula, all very scary to young’uns like us.
A big bowl of popcorn was made
and the lights dimmed. Conveniently, the same ghoul
who was on Saturday night’s Creature Feature show hosted these Halloween
specials from his usual crypt.
I’m sure my parents rolled their
eyes at me. My sister was four years
younger than I, but nine years wiser and wasn’t fooled a bit, although I was
terrified. Terrified!
And just as with Christmas, Santa
Claus disappeared from my radar when I realized he wasn’t real.
The aforementioned monsters
showed their hands when I discovered the people who they killed in their movies
were idiots in need of killing.
Those monsters waddled and took
giant, slow, wobbly steps with arms extended.
It was years before I realized I could personally outrun them while blindfolded
and hogtied.
Suddenly the scary in the scary
movies became humorous fun. Alas, I
still want to go trick or treating rather than raking leaves.
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween!
