“My mates and I poured out the door and scattered into the blustery autumn wind like a flock of well-dressed scarecrows . . .”
Halloween was due on a Thursday in 1946.
As school was dismissing on Wednesday, Miss Greenlee made another one of her famous announcements – only this time with an added caveat that would change life as I knew it before nightfall the next day.
The innocuous sounding part was, “Anyone who would like to wear a costume to school tomorrow for Halloween may do so.”
That in itself was enough to conjure a roomful of mixed emotions. But the caveat was the kicker.
“You will please design your costume by yourself.”
And that was the rule. No cheating.
Miss Greenlee wasn’t forbidding us to scroll forward in time a few decades and buy costumes from store aisles that didn’t exist yet. She was just saying we couldn’t let anyone else make creative decisions for us. And we only had a few hours to decide.
We’d already spent the week swapping ghost stories on the playground, thinking we’d have some orange cookies and punch on Thursday and call it a Halloween. So you can imagine, on such short notice, how many straw-hatted farmers toting buckets and rakes and sheet-clad ghosts and high-heeled, beaded ladies stumbling over their mothers’ dresses were likely to show up for the “Extras” cast on Halloween morning.
But refreshingly, most of Miss Greenlee’s students managed to notch up their level of costume design to suit the “Supporting Role” category . . .
Villains and War Paint
Bobby Blackstone and Teddy MacDougal played villains, of course. They’d rubbed coal all over their faces and wrapped themselves together in a big. black funeral parlor awning.
They wouldn’t have said how they came by the awning, so nobody bothered to ask. But they were more than prompt to accommodate anyone cheeky enough to sneak a peek at them, baring their teeth and hissing in campy, Bela Lugosi voices, “We are the vicious two-headed spider and we’ve come to eat you up!”
Me, I just wanted to keep it simple. And I sure wasn’t wearing a dress . . .
I had my fantasies about turning into a butterfly, but that wasn’t happening yet. Not according to the mirror, at least. My stubborn habit of dressing like a “tomboy” (as the gossips put it) wouldn’t permit such a delicate appearance in public on my part, anyway.
But the usual braids and overalls didn’t qualify as costume in Havenwood. So I got the idea I might use the occasion to honor my Native American ancestors, tied a strip of buckskin around my forehead, two mockingbird feathers in back and said I was an Indian. At least it was easy.
And as it turned out, I was also glad I’d declined Mama’s offer to borrow her lipstick for war paint. Katy Winthrop’s cheek rouge was enough for one day . . .
When I guessed correctly that Katy’s cheeks were meant to look like big red cherries to compliment the plastic fruit piled on her head, you’d think she’d just won the lottery, the way she squealed and carried on to thank me. But I must say, for a shy, plain girl who sat in the back of the classroom and kept to herself, I had to admire her daring on that headdress.
In my opinion, Katy was clearly the star of the show. And since Miss Greenlee’s other rule was that nobody could make fun of your costume, I figured she’d be safe in that respect.
Righteous Miss Hickey, however, was so offended by the blasphemy of such a thing as anyone ever wearing a costume (let alone to school) that when Mister Attabee gave us permission to stage a costume parade over lunch time, you could practically see locomotive smoke shooting from Hickey’s ears.
As we single-filed, smiling and waving in our disguises, past the open doors of the cafeteria and classrooms along the hall, older students whistled and cheered and teachers waved back and applauded.
Quilt by Susan Propst
Some played like they were afraid; others looked duly impressed, especially with Blackstone and MacDougal’s two-headed whatever-it-was. Even the weird science teacher, Mister Salamander, raised his eyeballs off the jar of brains on his desk long enough to refocus on mad-cow Clayton and the Siamese spider twins.
But all Miss Hickey could do was sputter and fume and claw at her breast, like she was being murdered by the very brazenness of it all. And I’m sorry, but that was downright entertaining . . .
All told looking back, it was a day to remember . . .
And when the final bell rang to end it, my mates and I poured out the door and scattered into the blustery autumn wind like a flock of well-dressed scarecrows, clutching our spooky artwork to share with home and family.
~
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MORE HALLOWEEN MEMORIES at “Halloween Art – School Nostalgia“
Copyright©2007, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
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‘Tis said that St. Patrick’s Day brings out the Irish in everyone 😉
You can call it bribery if you want to, I don’t care. Other than the possibility of getting to see pickled brains in a jar, I was looking forward to going to school about as much as slopping hogs for the rest of my life . . .
Halloween was due on a Thursday . . .
Havenwood Tales 
Mother’s Day Inspirations from Havenwood Tales – Nostalgic Stories of 1940s Heartland America
Posted in Holiday Stories, Celebration, Nostalgia, tagged 1940s, America, Childhood Memories, Coming of Age Story, Heartland America, Humorous Stories, Inspiring Stories, Mother's Day, Mystery Novel, Social Commentary on May 9, 2014| Leave a Comment »
“My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it.” ~ Mark Twain
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