by Gwendolyn M Plano
Bags of candy fill the aisles in the local grocery stores; while costumes for young pirates and cowboys, princesses and fairies await the excited child. In neighborhoods across the United States, homes are decorated with pumpkins and stalks of corn, for in just a few days it will be Halloween.
We had no neighbors when I was a child, no one to trick or treat. But the country school that my siblings and I attended had a parade for all the little goblins of the area.
About 150 farm children donned old sheets, handmade masks and grandpa's worn hats, to march around the old wood-planked structure. The principal watched as we paraded past parents and teachers, and then selected a few witches or rodeo stars for candy prizes.
Mom made our costumes from scrapes of cloth; and one year, I was the Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe. She cut up a cardboard box, painted it with brown shoe polish, and sat it in an old red wagon. She dressed me in a blue bonnet and long dress—both of which she also made. My dolls and those of my sisters lined the wagon bed, and I marched proudly with the other country kids, pulling my imaginary family. And, that year, I got an award.
Mom is now almost ninety years young; she is frail but active. I don’t know if she remembers that special Halloween; but every year, I think about it. I remember the dolls peeking through the windows in the cardboard shoe, I remember struggling with the rusty wagon over the grassy path, and I remember the white cotton balls tucked into my bonnet so that I might appear old. I felt special that day—Mom made it so.
When I think of Halloween, I always think of her. And I wonder, with seven unruly kids, how did she find the time to make costumes for us all? Perhaps she was the Old Woman in a Shoe. Was I, for just a few hours, my mom?
Do you remember the rhyme? It goes like this:
There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children,
She didn’t know what to do.
She gave them some broth
And a big slice of bread,
Kissed them all soundly
And sent them to bed. (Mother Goose Version)
When you think back to when you were a child, do you have a favorite Halloween memory? Does it include your mom? Time changes our perspective or at least offers a context, doesn't it?
We had no neighbors when I was a child, no one to trick or treat. But the country school that my siblings and I attended had a parade for all the little goblins of the area.
About 150 farm children donned old sheets, handmade masks and grandpa's worn hats, to march around the old wood-planked structure. The principal watched as we paraded past parents and teachers, and then selected a few witches or rodeo stars for candy prizes.
Mom made our costumes from scrapes of cloth; and one year, I was the Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe. She cut up a cardboard box, painted it with brown shoe polish, and sat it in an old red wagon. She dressed me in a blue bonnet and long dress—both of which she also made. My dolls and those of my sisters lined the wagon bed, and I marched proudly with the other country kids, pulling my imaginary family. And, that year, I got an award.
Mom is now almost ninety years young; she is frail but active. I don’t know if she remembers that special Halloween; but every year, I think about it. I remember the dolls peeking through the windows in the cardboard shoe, I remember struggling with the rusty wagon over the grassy path, and I remember the white cotton balls tucked into my bonnet so that I might appear old. I felt special that day—Mom made it so.
When I think of Halloween, I always think of her. And I wonder, with seven unruly kids, how did she find the time to make costumes for us all? Perhaps she was the Old Woman in a Shoe. Was I, for just a few hours, my mom?
Do you remember the rhyme? It goes like this:
There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children,
She didn’t know what to do.
She gave them some broth
And a big slice of bread,
Kissed them all soundly
And sent them to bed. (Mother Goose Version)
When you think back to when you were a child, do you have a favorite Halloween memory? Does it include your mom? Time changes our perspective or at least offers a context, doesn't it?
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