This day in history, circa 1964.
My two older sisters, Diane and Tina, dressed me in a “really cute” Blue Bonnet Girl costume for Halloween. I don’t recall having a choice in this. I was eight. I also don’t remember which one of them wore the costume before. Someone, my mom maybe, had meticulously hand-sewn the dress and bonnet. It was royal blue with white lace trim. They combed my dark hair down in bangs and snugged the bonnet on my head so that no one could see my short man-style haircut.
Once I was fully dressed, my sisters exclaimed, “You’re beautiful. It makes your eyes dreamy. You’ll win for sure.”
I stomped my black patent plastic Mary Jane-clad foot. That was the extent of my rebellion. The reason for this torture was a $25 prize for first place in a Halloween costume contest. My sisters towed me to the Bear Valley Mall, a few blocks from our house. I tried to walk on the side away from the picture windows of all the houses we passed, just in case someone recognized us. I hoped my sisters would share the prize with me, but I doubted it.
Standing in line stretched across the cracked parking lot, judging the other unworthy costumes, we were convinced I would win, especially when a girl in front of me tugged on her mom’s sleeve, pointed at me, and said, “Look how pretty this little girl is.”
Her mom nodded and said, “Oh, she is.” Others near us nodded in assent.
Couldn’t she tell it was a costume? I screamed inside. I’m not a girl! I was steamed, embarrassed, and ready to dash home, but my oldest sister, grinning, held my hand clamped in hers. “We’re gonna win,” she whispered.
I can win? Why not. I’m fooling all the people here. If I could win, it would make the humiliation worth it. I’d be famous. That’s when I remembered one of my mom’s stupid sayings. “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” Is this what she meant? I ignored the adoring girl and stared at my now scuffed Mary Janes.
We withered in the warm October sun for what seemed hours, the line never moving closer to the tall ladder platform the judges stood on. Finally, someone in a gorilla suit climbed onto the platform, and a man announced through a megaphone, holding the person’s furry hand in the air as if he were Muhammad Ali and champion of the world, “Here’s our first place winner!” The entire crowd groaned.
“A gorilla costume?” I complained. “Anyone could buy one of those and put it on. How is that first place?” I stomped my foot again.
“He must be a friend of the judge,” my oldest sister said. “Let’s go.” The crowd of ghosts, carnival barkers, Beatles, hobos, goblins, Orphan Annies, Dorothys, Scarecrows, unraveling mummies, and a disappointed, embarrassed, Blue Bonnet Girl dispersed, sucking a lemon.
As I remembered this story, I recognized anew how important history, tradition, and storytelling are. My sisters have passed away. I’m the only one in my family left. That’s a scary thought. Anyway, as I retold this story, it turned from sour to sweet, and I could see my sister’s sly smiles, hear their sure voices, and feel their love. This is the power God invests in holidays, stories, and tradition.
What are some Halloween memories you remember? Write them in the comments.
What a story Eugene! I am amazed at how much Emerson looks like DeeDee! I believe I have
said this to you before. Split image of Emerson in that photo!
Thank you, Kathy. Happy Halloween. Yes, they do. Shy smiles.
Wow, that sounded PAINFUL! I’m glad it’s a sweet memory now, and I’m sorry your sisters are not here to relive it with you. My Halloween memories mainly center on walking through the neighborhood with our kids. I remember taking my 4yo son dressed as a train conductor. He wanted so much to act the part, he felt obligated to toot his whistle (which sounded like an old steam engine train whistle) every time he went up to house and every time he left. But what I remember most of all is when he looked up at me about halfway through our route and said, “Daddy, I’m done now.” As we walked home, neighbors eagerly waited for the conductor to claim his candy. I just sort of waved sheepishly as we walked by. “He’s done!” I said, “Sorry!”
Thanks, Chad. I had begun spending more time with my older sister just before she passed. And we shared our stories with one another. It was healing and sweet. Some of my best memories are with my own children for Halloween, but I also often went hunting on October 31. I wonder what their memories are.
What a tender story. It’s amazing your son had such self-knowledge to know his limits. I hope that has continued. Do you retell that story?
Costumes without consent! I well remember the time my parents made me wear a Prince Valiant (from Sleeping Beauty? Snow White?) costume one Halloween. Needless to say, I was not happy! Come to think of it, I may have worn that costume the same year you wore Blue Bonnet costume. We didn’t know each other then. If we did, maybe we could have commiserated together!
Hahaha. CWCers unite. I would have gladly worn a Prince Valiant costume. Have we started a new MeToo group?
I love your photo!,… but nothing very significant or awesome seems to come to mind, as far as personal experiences,…
I do remember one of the earliest costumes that the family created, which was of a cat,… what I strongly remember is the cat’s tail, which was made of some kind of wire, which was covered with orange crepe paper having been wrapped around it,… it was long and curved a little bit, and it did look pretty amazing,…
But ~ when pinned to the rest of the costume, it was very disappointingly inert, just hanging there,… I was pretty young ~ (this would have been around 1951 or so ~ kind of “the early days” for communities to be “going out and about” together, so we were all a little nervous!) ~ and so, I must have imagined being able to somehow wiggle the tail a little bit, but the reality was that it certainly wasn’t alive or exciting,… just more like a “dud”,…
however, the school had asked us to “please collect pennies for Unicef”, which I think was my favorite part of the whole thing,…
just to add ~ many years later, as I found my way into the Catholic Church, I was overjoyed to learn that the next day (November 1st) was something called “All Saints Day”, and I think I’ve, basically, “never looked back”!,… (-:
That photo was from my youngest granddaughter’s birthday. She insisted we come as Anna and Olaf. Yesterday, I dressed up with her as a cowboy. She was a cowgirl. Grandkids change you. LOL. Yes, the few costumes I’ve indulged in over the years have disappointed me. I’m not creative that way. Thanks for the fun story about the early days of Trick or Treating. All things have a beginning.
My grandchildren do not live close enough for me to have been around during their festivities, but I can imagine that that does make a difference!,… I’m always very thankful for facebook in these matters!,… (-:
Facebook does help in that way.
I remember having a rabbit costume that my mother had sewn for me. To complete the costume, we dug from our garden a very large and fat carrot for me to carry. One of the judges asked me if it was a real carrot. Rather than give a verbal answer, I took a bite of the carrot. Everyone laughed and my costume was judged first in a category I have forgotten. We always had a parade which ended with the costume judging, and then cider and doughnuts around a fire on the school playground. Then we went into the school gymnasium where the prizes were announced and magicians performed.
Winner for quickest thinking. What a fun memory and tradition. Thanks for sharing.
A lot of great stories here, including your own Eugene. I especially appreciated the humor most injected into their stories. I grew up in a small town much further north than you lol. Our Halloween nights were often cold and sometimes we had snow. So, if someone had a costume it was covered up with a parka. Most kids were just limited to a rubber or plastic masks. There was quite a haul of treats though and they lasted at least a couple of of weeks. This was a long time ago and so we often also got homemade treats. No one hands out homemade treats anymore. We observe Halloween and decorate a little as well as hand out treats. My grandson sent a photo of my great grandson who is 2 and he went as a tow truck. The photo was really cute.
Thanks, Terry. In Denver, we too, mainly covered our costumes with parkas when I was growing up. That far north, you all had it worse. Our myth was that it always snowed on Halloween. I remember homemade treats. Yum. And we knew all our neighbors, even the curmudgeons. Grandkids (and greats) bring it all back!
Home Made Halloween (from Myths & Souvenirs, 1995)
My my dad was a “genius” engineer and my mom was no less a genius with papier-mâché and a sewing machine. Put those things together and you have the makings of some pretty fantastic Halloween costumes. And, I’m not just saying they were good … they were award winning. (sorry, Eugene)
One year we actually won the most creative costume award at a Honeywell Halloween party. My brother Drew was Spock from Star Trek and I was his computer. My costume was a glorified box and duct tape, with gismos, real switches and lights and a tape recorder inside to make computer noises. I had a drawer that would open when you pushed a button and that’s where all the candy went. Drew had his ears taped up into points and make up on his eyebrows, he looked just like Spock, with a little upturned eyebrow. My sister Cris was the most adorable little yellow feathered chick you ever saw.
One year I was Ichabod Crane (I can still smell the inside of a sweaty papier-mâché mask to this day) and Drew was The Headless Horseman, complete with a bloody pumpkin head under his arm. Another year we were big birds that stood 8 feet tall and had real stained pillow feathers and hidden piano wire that worked our beaks and wings. You could put candy in the beak, and it would slide down into a candy bag. All three of us still take pride in homemade costumes for Halloween to this day. Cris has taken the art form to new and glorious heights with her kids.
Hi, Mitch. Fun stories. I’m jealous. My mom dressed me as a hobo every year until I rebelled. I don’t remember what I was after that. She’d smear vaseline on my face and sprinkle coffee grounds on my cheeks, so I looked unshaven. I’d wear a flannel shirt, put a broomstick with a stuffed bandana over my shoulder, and troop out into the October night. I think I have Post-Halloween Trauma Disorder. 😉
No wonder you’re so creative!