Wow... my blogging has gotten really scarce since FB!
Magpie got his costume last week- a $29.99 Werewolf mask, ripped flannel, and matching hairy gloves with claws. It was also priced at the specialty Halloween store for $59.99, so I guess I got a bargain.
This morning I’m reading a chapter of
Freak the Mighty to my students- it’s chapter 19, I believe, when Killer Kane has kidnapped him and taken him to an apartment that “smells like old-lady perfume and cats” and the furniture is “all saggy and soft”- when I have a flashback to the old neighborhood at 3 Highland Avenue, Flourtown, PA.
Our neighbors at the time at 1 Highland, were Bob and Ruth Fritz, who were presumably in the 60’s at the time, which seemed incredibly old to us at ages 5-18, but I can distinctly remember a few things about them. One, they drove a black, circa 1968 VW Bug. Two, they had the weirdest driveway, sort of a miniature hill with a sharply high rise. They also had the sweetest smelling rosebushes against a white clapboard fence that were awesome because in Pennsylvania, no one took tending roses for granted like they do around these Pasadena-area parts. Their porch was shaded by humungous pine shrubs, so that you felt you were escaping into a foreign land when you passed behind them to the darkended patio to ring the doorbell.
Once inside, you were struck by the smell of old people, sort of mothball-y and sweet, the bright yellow walls of the dining room and the sun coming through the window with the matching shades, and inevitably you’d be asked to sit upon this old lady chair that had a firm high back with edges marked by studs and the textile material was textured but soft, almost as if it were green velour in a raised relief pattern, and you sank into it as if it had been sat upon for centuries by the kings of Fritzland. Next to you, was the glass candy dish in that frilly/bumpy pattern.. you know the one with the heavy lid that had to be raised to get to the cellophane wrapped unmarked mystery candy inside? Yep, that was the Fritz’s.
On Halloween, Mrs. Fritz would give us some homemade cookies wrapped in saran wrap, and Mr. Fritz would inevitably give us a dime to spend at Woolworth’s on our next trip. Those were they days, huh?
Across the street was the Kimballs. They had the best house on the street because it had been the farmhouse, I think, when the development didn’t exist. They also had a really deep back yard and an incredibly overgrown garden facing the street. Within the garden, old Harvey Kimball raised his bee colony, and he actually made and gave away his own honey to the neighbors.... before he got senile and started walking aimlessly around the neighborhood with his zipper down, that is. He rode around town in a puke green station wagon. Mrs. Kimball was very sweet before she began to suffer from what I now would guess is Alzheimer’s. She made homemade cupcakes for Halloween treats and it was a very sad day when people began to toss her baked goods out before they left the driveway due to media frenzies that led them to believe this poor old woman was going to bake a razor blade inside them.
I also recall going to down the street to the Karonci’s (sp?) house. They were the notoriously loud family on the street... I’m not sure if they were Italian or eastern European, but their house always scared me because it was so chaotic. Mr. Karonci would put you on the spot in the living room- from the comfort of his recliner- as to who you were, what stupid costume you chose, berating your choice and the ‘kids today’, then begrudgingly say something like “alright then, pick somethin’ outta here”, and point to a platter of candy bars while he went back to watching his television show which had been blaring the whole time and causing he and his wife to shout louder over the din to hear each other’s guesses at your identity.
My first costume, I believe was a cowgirl hand-me-down from my cousin. I can barely remember putting it on. I think I must have looked like Dale Evans, but I do recall my duel silver pistols. Those were sweet! After that, I got the ultra-awesome boxed Wonder Woman costume that came in the cardboard container with the cellophone window. Inside was that great mask that looked like Wonder Woman had chipmunks’ disease and the one elastic strap that broke and had to be restapled ten times before the big day. The ‘costume’ was a one piece plastic suit painted to look as if she was wearing her blue stars and red and white stripes, and you tied it in the back with plastic straps that also ripped easily, and under the fake flesh arms was your long sleeve shirt that mom made you wear to stay warm while you protested that Wonder Woman never wore long sleeves.
I miss those days. Today it is all greedy parents with their infants in strollers and some store-bought costume which guilts you into dropping expensive candy into the cheap plastic bag free from the L.A. Times, which the adults are carrying for the babies too small to eat candy. Kids want to dress like pimps and ho’s; Trunk-or-treat events take place of you getting to know your neighbors a little better and not being afraid to talk to them.
Waxing nostalgic, I wish I could return home, dump out my loot, and have a hot cocoa while Mom and Dad sorted out which candy was untampered with or contained needles.
Oh wait... maybe things haven’t changed all that much.
