Whittling Away: Once a bum, always a bum

Once again we anticipate the yearly invasion of small ghouls, ghosts and Disney characters. They are easily appeased by offerings of copious quantities of sugar.

Then all will be quiet again except for the occasional accusation of parental snitching of Snickers bars. The signs of Halloween will disappear as quickly as the bags of goodies, leaving only the smiles on the faces of dentists as a reminder of the good time had by all.

Halloween stands alone as our only holiday not rooted in religion or patriotism. Its pagan roots give it a bit of an edge, a feeling that something exciting could happen that makes it a real kids’ delight.

Actually, I think it was started in the 1930s by a group of companies that made cheap candy and wanted to boost sales, or maybe it was the companies that made make-up who wanted to off load all their left-over stuff, and I’m almost certain that the folks from the Home and Garden Network had a hand in it somewhere.

Modern Halloween seems to be gentler and milder than the ones of a few years back. There isn’t as much evidence of tricks as there was in the past. Property damage and vandalism seem to be down and that’s a good thing. I look forward to the parade of little ones dragging their bags of loot up to the door, ringing the doorbell and then standing there with a kind of stunned look on their faces while their parents, who are lurking in the shrubbery, try to coax them into uttering the magic words that bring forth goodies: “Trick or Treat.”

When I was a child Halloween wasn’t as productive as it could have been. Growing up in the country meant there were only three houses within walking distance. The round trip covered a distance of more than a mile so the trip always involved walking down a dark, wooded dirt road with all sorts of sounds from the blowing leaves and rustling branches making just the sort of noises that our fertile little minds associated with large carnivores.

Our costumes usually involved using our parents’ old clothing and whatever else we had around the house. My perpetual favorite was dressing as a bum. Dad’s old jacket and pants tied up with a length of rope, a little burnt cork for a beard and a rubber cigar from J.J. Newberry’s and I was good to go. Looking back now I feel a small pang of guilt for our treatment of our little brother — the two oldest boys grabbed all the good old male clothing, leaving him with just my mom’s leftovers. My memory’s eye still carries a mental picture of this short little kid, tripping over the dress that was dragging in the dirt while trying to see where his feet were over his enormous, lumpy bosom.

No sissy bags for us, we carried a pillowcase, which showed how high our expectations were. After completing our route and having snacked on our bounty as we walked from house to house, our haul looked pitiful in the bottom of the pillowcase when we returned to home base, but we went to bed satisfied that we had done a great job of terrorizing the neighborhood and drifted off to sleep, planning our costumes for next year.

It’s been a long time but I still look forward to Halloween — next year I think I’ll be a bum. I wonder what happened to my rubber cigar?

Thought for the week — Great Truths Little Children Have Learned: 1) No matter how hard you try, you can’t baptize cats. 2) When your mom is mad at your dad, don’t let her brush your hair. 3) If your sister hits you, don’t hit her back; they always catch the second person. 4) Never ask your 3-year-old brother to hold a tomato. 5) You can’t trust dogs to watch your food. 6) Don’t sneeze when someone is cutting your hair. 7) Never hold a Dustbuster and a cat at the same time. 8) You can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk. 9) Don’t wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts. 10) The best place to be when you’re sad is Grandma or Grandpa’s lap.

Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.

Reach Dick Brooks at whittle12124@yahoo.com.