One thing about October never changes: children anticipating Halloween. Recently, my husband and I enjoyed a FaceTime call with our grandchildren, watching them open a box of Halloween decorations. It was a madhouse. The girls, 5 and 7, argued over window décor, my 3-year-old grandson tossed a stuffed pumpkin at the ceiling, and the 1-year-old chased his ball through the melee. They can’t wait to trick-or-treat.
The first Halloween I remember is 1956. I was 5. My widowed mother had moved our family to her hometown of Washington, Indiana. The big Halloween event in Washington back then was a costume parade down Main Street. My sisters and I were excited to participate. Mother didn’t believe in spending “good” money on store-bought costumes, though we girls coveted the cheap gauze and satin Halloween get-ups for sale at the dime store. My oldest sister, a sixth-grader then, dressed as a gypsy, wearing one of our mother’s colorful full skirts (with several layers of petticoats) and dangly earrings. Mom even let her wear lipstick. I thought she looked beautiful. I was dressed in the easiest costume ever, a sheet transformed into a ghost.
A few years later, living in Bloomington, I experienced a memorable Halloween. While out trick-or-treating with a friend, I bent over a lighted pumpkin and immediately smelled a horrible odor and heard sizzling. Strands of my hair and my eyebrows had caught fire! No permanent damage was done, but it was, well, pretty spooky.
Another year, a friend and I ended up the recipients of an unforgettable treat on Halloween. We were greeted by an elderly lady. She seemed surprised to see trick-or-treaters and more than a little confused. She asked us to wait a minute, and after we waited for what seemed an eternity, she returned and dropped cans of Campbell soup in our paper grocery bags. Those were different times, when kids were allowed to roam around on Halloween night by themselves.
Remember building leaf forts in the fall with neighborhood pals? My husband and I compared notes on leaf forts and decided it was lucky more kids weren’t run over by cars, considering we raked the leaves into piles just off the curb and often hid in them. After leaf forts played out, moms and dads struck matches to the leaves and let them burn. Although it’s not eco-friendly today, I miss the smell of burning leaves.
Mother enjoyed walks in the woods and often took my sisters and me on fall hikes, usually at a state park. It was fun kicking leaves along the paths and sensing the change of seasons. Mom said we should be like Indians in the woods, quiet and respectful of nature. We were taught to never deface trees with our initials, as some did.
One October our family spent a weekend at Canyon Inn at McCormick’s Creek. To a 6-year-old, that was a great adventure. We didn’t travel much, and staying in a hotel was rare. Canyon Inn felt like the Ritz. My sisters and I played with kids we met, ate communal meals in the dining room with other families, and begged mom to buy us trinkets from the gift shop, like stuffed black bears and tiny cedar boxes adorned with the park insignia.
Today, Halloween has lost its old-fashioned feel. Retail stores fill with candy, elaborate costumes and every kind of Halloween kitsch by the end of August. Simple costumes and a carved pumpkin don’t hack it anymore. But during a recent visit to the Muscatatuck Wildlife Refuge, I saw a quote on a plaque that resonated: “Time Takes All But Memories.” Yes, time passes on and with it comes inevitable change, but memories remain. And old stories are fun to share with grandkids. Happy Halloween!
Sharon Mangas can be reached at [email protected].
