Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, genealogy and family history, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), Miracle of the Concrete Jesus & Other Stories, and several Kindle ebooks.

Thursday, October 28, 2021

Halloween Memories (1950s)

Halloween isn't what it used to be.

I'm old enough to remember when Halloween was a kids' event, not a major holiday requiring elaborate—and often tacky—decorations displayed weeks in advance. Usually, the only decoration back in the late 40s and early 50s was a carved pumpkin on the doorstep. It was lit the night of Halloween, not days before. There were no scarcrows on the porch, no cornshucks, no strings of orange Halloween lights on the shrubbery—who would have imagined such back then?—and no gravestones or skeletons in the front yard. Decorations didn't convey a sense of horror.

 Our parents remembered WWII and Korea, so they they'd had enough horror to last them for the rest of their lives. Gravestones—even simulated ones—in the yard—would have been disrespectful to those who had died. Folks remembered the Great Depression, so they certainly didn't approve of spending money on decorations or elaborate costumes.  

Our costumes were assembled from what we had at home—a lot of us were hobos—with maybe the addition of a 25-cent mask. Other popular costumes were witches, ghosts, and maybe a ballerina or two if girls were taking ballet lessons and wanted to get a bit of extra mileage out of the outfit. Since some of us already had cowboy or cowgirl outfits, those would do for  costumes, too. Often we carried noisemakers so folks could hear us coming.  I still have my tambourine, although it's showing its age a bit and doesn't jingle as loud as it used to:


A few days before Halloween, we drew and colored witches or black cats or pumpkins at school. Our teacher might have read us a spooky story, and we might have had a modest party right before dismissal,  but we didn't wear costumes to school. 

Trick-or-treating began as soon as it was dark—never earlier. We walked a few blocks in our neighborhood and were home within an hour or so. I don't remember parents ever going with their kids—though some might have watched from their porch. Mamas stayed home to hand out treats and to watch any younger kids, who peeked around their mamas' aprons and tried to make sense of all the strange creatures who hollered "Trick or Treat!"  Why did they look so strange? we wondered. Would they hurt me?

Halloween was a coming-of-age event. Trick-or-treating proved we were old enough to be out in the dark and old enough to find our way aroundWe started trick-or-treating when we were old enough to walk a couple of blocks, usually when we were about five or six and had mastered walking to a playmate's house or maybe to school. Before then, we stayed home. At least one older kid was usually with the beginners, and we stopped trick-or-treating when we were in the 8th grade—because trick-or-treating was for children. 

Many of the treats we got were homemade—cookies, Rice-Krispies bars, caramel popcorn balls, etc. A lot of ladies apparently fixed their specialties. Sometimes we got apples, candy corn, some individually wrapped pieces of store-bought candy, and sometimes even candy bars. 

Simpler times. . . .

~

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1 Comments:

Blogger Linda P. said...

I still vividly remember heading to the corner of a street when a neighborhood kid ran by, shouting, "Mrs. Barnes has popcorn balls!" My brother and I wheeled around and headed there.

This year, a man with a business on a nearby street hung a figure with a black hood over its hands, a noose around its neck, and black gloves for hands. Beneath him was a kicked-over stool. When several neighborhood women protested, he claimed it wasn't depicting a lynching but a suicide, claiming that was innocuous. He refused to take it down. Oh, and it was right across the street from an alternative school with many black students.

5:40 PM  

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