Halloween

I think now is an appropriate time to write about my Halloweens.

Halloween on Mt. Pleasant was the typical house-to-house trick-or-treat experience. In elementary school the trick-or-treat bag I carried was usually a paper sack (lunch sack style) that I decorated at school. More than once I dressed up in a can-can costume borrowed from our neighbors across the street. I loosely use the term “borrowed,” because I don’t believe we returned it. I was about ten years old the first time I wore it. I wore it again a year or two later. I liked (not loved) trick-or-treating, but I didn’t like much of the candy. I came home from trick-or-treating and dumped my candy all over the living room floor, so I could go through it. My sister Nancy liked to help.

1961-abt-tina-in-favorite-halloween-cancan-dance-b
In my can-can costume, on Mt. Pleasant, abt 1960-1

Parents were not concerned about allowing their small children to go house-to-house unchaperoned in those days. Occasionally I heard about real life Halloween horror stories, but it was unusual. I continued to trick-or-treat until probably the seventh grade after we moved to our new house on Ovid Ave. In our new neighborhood, my friend Saranne, who lived a short block away, and I dressed up and took off to trick-or-treat a block or two from our homes but still in our neighborhood. It was dark. We walked up a hill into a cul-de-sac and knocked on a door. A lone man opened the door at one house and invited us in. We entered, sat at a breakfast bar in his kitchen, and he gave us something to eat and a soft drink. We were there only a few minutes, and nothing untoward happened, but it was a dumb thing to do. I don’t remember if I told my parents. Saranne and I did not feel too creeped out about it at the time, but later we did. That might have been the last time I went trick-or-treating. After that I stayed at home, answered the door, and gave out candy to the little ones. I’m sure my mother was thrilled that she didn’t have to do that any more.

When I was about twelve or thirteen years old, after we moved into our house on Ovid, Mother let me host a Halloween party for some new girlfriends. I converted part of the garage into a darkened fun house, where I set a simple table of well-oiled cooked spaghetti guts with eye balls and brains made of other foods. The girls blindly walked along the table in the dark, feeling the bowls of slimy innards along the way. (This doesn’t sound like me at all.)

Life was simple and care-free for us kids in the 1950s and 60s.

 

One memorable adult Halloween happened around 1984. My husband Rick was a banker, and we were invited to a big Halloween party held in a vacant mansion somewhere in north Dallas. I believe it was hosted by one of Rick’s banking clients, and the entertainment was Vince Vance & the Valiants. Apparently there was some kind of unwritten bankers’s wife Halloween dress code I was unaware of, because I shocked a few people with my costume. I didn’t particularly like dressing in costume, but something got into me that year. I borrowed some costume items from a neighbor, and dressed up in fake leather pants, leopard leotard onesie, rubber police baton, rubber bullet belt, spiked collar, spike heels, and spiked short multicolored hair. When I was at the hair salon getting my hair done for that party, a woman stopped and asked my stylist why I would do that to myself. When Rick and I arrived at the party, people who knew us were shocked at this mild-mannered conservative banker’s wife dressed as a pretty convincing punk-rocker. Rick’s over-the-top costume of a normal business suit and Groucho Marx glasses, nose, and cigar was a nice contrast. Sometime before the show started, I excused myself to find a restroom. I asked for directions and was pointed down the hall to a door on the right. I opened the door, walked in, and found myself standing in the Valiants’ dressing room. They were each in different stages of dress preparing to go on stage, and they all looked up at me when I walked in. I was embarrassed and apologized profusely by explaining I was in the wrong room. One of them replied, “Not necessarily.” I looked like a member of the band, and I am fairly certain that they were not dressed in Halloween costumes. I made a quick exit. Later that night, I won some kind of impromptu award for my costume and was called up onto the stage for a photo-op with Vince Vance.

 

One more thing…one day in the 90s, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work. Halloween was approaching. I pushed my basket around the end of a grocery aisle and passed a mother pushing a small boy in her basket. The child looked up at me with wide eyes and immediately exclaimed, “Are you a witch?!” I didn’t even have my broom with me. It must have been the end of a long hard day for me.