Well, we all know what tonight is and if we don't, the sight
of Zombies across the street in costume should be a dead give a way—or un-dead
giveaway.
Of course they don’t really need to dress up, but they’re
sensitive to the fact that most people are still skittish around them, so they
like to show folks they’re really no different than anyone else.
You know, except for the fact that they’re re-animated
corpses and they don’t really like the Food Network.
Other than that….
So there they are, all dolled up as various characters from
Toy Story and Frozen…even a couple of Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles, which actually
works for them.
I was talking to Burt about it, yesterday, as they were
putting the final touches on the various trap doors and false walls they installed
in their spook house. He said, or I
think he said that they find it safer to go with the more popular cartoon themes,
rather than dressing up as other ghouls.
They tried that a few years back, and some of the local werewolves,
witches and vampires kind of got bent out of shape over it.
Not that it was surprising to see the vampires and witches getting
their noses out of joint—they’re sensitive to every little slight imaginable—but
it was out of character for the werewolves to start howling about it; especially
back then, when they weren’t the most popular lycanthropes
in town.
Anyway, it got me thinking back to when I was a kid, and the
difficulty I had coming up with a suitable costume, every year.
I mean, talk about stress producing. I pretty much started agonizing over it the
second I unloaded my bag of candy and began arranging them by size and color.
Of course, throughout all that night's trick or treating I made a
careful study of what most of the other kids in the neighborhood had put together,
which probably accounted for all those falls into the leaf piles.
Halloween costumes at that time were pretty much divided
into the simple, the elaborate, the creative and the cheap.
And probably not much has changed today.
The cheap would be to simply grab some of your old clothes
out of the rag bag, tear some more holes in them, rub some burned cork on your
face, tie a rag onto a stick and voila…instant…uhm…hobo.
Not sure if that’s politically correct to say or even do
anymore, but that’s what we did back then, in a pinch.
And if you were really ambitious you could get your mom to
iron on some of those sticky patchie thingies that curled at the corners.
You could also throw on your personal cowboy hat and
guns, Davey Crocket coonskin cap and long rifle, Indian feathers with bow and
arrow and go in that direction as well.
The elaborate get-ups consisted of going to an actual
costume shop and renting a lion, scarecrow or tin man suit…Superman,
Frankenstein, Dracula…all realistic…all very expensive, and all pretty much
unseen in my neighborhood…and if they were, you made sure to cross the street, because
you could never be sure they weren’t real.
The creative tended to be the best of the best when it came
to costumes. My cousin once painted a bunch of boxes silver, tied them around
his shoulders and head and made himself into a robot. He actually stills wears it…to this day, every
day.
A friend once wrapped herself up in gauze and made herself into
a mummy, which delighted all the other neighborhood kids. One of these days,
she hopes to get it all unwrapped.
And if you had a handy mom, dad, grandma or grandpa, they
could whip you up a Raggedy Ann, Barbie, Cinderella or Dorothy from OZ costume…any or all of which could lead to trouble if you wore it to the school Halloween
party…believe me, I know.
And of course the simplest costumes were the ones
that came in a box, featuring various characters from skeletons to werewolves
to Tevye from Fiddler. You just stepped into
this flimsy cottony jumpsuit, tied it around your neck and avoided any open
flames. And don’t forget the hot plastic mask that tended to collect your
drool and kept you from seeing too much other than the inside of the mask. Plus, don’t forget the ultra hi-tech fastening device—aka rubber band—that pretty much tore out your hair and cut a line into the
back of your head.
But it was all worth it, and still is, because there’s only
one day a year when you’re allowed to go panhandling from door to door in
search of the elusive full size snicker bar.
And I know it’s only one day a year because back in the 60s
I tried it in February…and March…and July…and nothing.
Not even a “How cute you look!”
So however you choose to dress up, tonight, make sure you compliment
the Zombies on their costumes, and always say Trick or Treat, followed by a big
thank you.
Because to be honest, I’m not really sure what those trap
doors and false walls are for…and I’m pretty sure none of us want to find out.
Nobody wants a repeat of the Columbus Day incident…nobody….
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Great story, Brian, and so many memories spring to mind. No store bought costumes for me! I was always one of the creative ones that would throw on a raincoat and carry a fishing pole and even did the "hobo" one a few times. It's amazing the things you can fit inside that rag on a stick - my cat seemed to like it! I think I like the Robin Hood one the best - nothing like tights and a homemade bow and arrow to bring everyone to attention! Happy Halloween, my friend!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Pami. We only had one Halloween together and I'm not sure you and your big sisters even let me hang with you that time. I do know I was Zoro that year...I have the kindergarten picture to prove it, mustache and all!
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