Yesterday was Halloween. I left all the outside lights on and locked my truck in the shop, but all was quiet. That's good. That's the way I like it now. I must be getting old...
I used to dress up and go out. I loved the idea of being something or someone else for one night. But for the past few years, I have done nothing special. Last night, I spent a quiet evening by myself reminiscing about Halloweens past...
As a child, in the Coteau Hills of Saskatchewan, I did not go "trick or treating". When the family moved to BC, I went door to door in Oliver with a group of kids a few times. It was as an adult that the spirit of Halloween really hit me.
My husband, having grown up in a family that loved the "trick" part of Halloween, involved me in a couple of pranks - saddling a milk cow (I was sure we were going to be caught since the dog never quit barking!), jacking a car up in a garage and putting it on blocks (so it would not go anywhere when the lady tried to drive it out). The most complicated - and stupid! - prank I was part of though, was when a carload of us, in the dead of night, drove to a farm owned by a farmer friend that was well-known to "act first, think later". The plan, to spread out all over the farm, make just enough noise to wake him, hide, then watch the reaction, took an unexpected turn when one of our group came back to the car, got the shotgun he had stashed in the trunk, pointed it to the sky and shot it off! It was double the fun, a trick on the tricksters - the farmer boiled out of the house, into his truck and peeled rubber getting to his machinery; the pranksters, thinking it was the farmer who had shot the gun, panicked. They certainly popped out of the grass so they wouldn't get run over. When shotgun pellets dropped to earth all around my husband, he didn't seek obscurity any longer. He ran to the house and identified himself to the farmer's wife. The farmer, meanwhile, reached the car but the bearer of the shotgun had put it away. Where was I in all this? At the car. I think I made the excuse that I was not dressed for crawling around on the ground, but I may have just been chicken... Since we were all friends, we ended up in the house for coffee. There were plenty of unaswered questions and no one quite believed the other guy since no one knew where the gun shot had come from except the guy who had done it and me, because I had stayed in the car. I think he had the last laugh that night. As I said, this was a really stupid thing to do - someone could have been run over with the madman farmer, gas pedal to the floorboards, made wide circles in the field!
I used to dress up and go out. I loved the idea of being something or someone else for one night. But for the past few years, I have done nothing special. Last night, I spent a quiet evening by myself reminiscing about Halloweens past...
As a child, in the Coteau Hills of Saskatchewan, I did not go "trick or treating". When the family moved to BC, I went door to door in Oliver with a group of kids a few times. It was as an adult that the spirit of Halloween really hit me.
My husband, having grown up in a family that loved the "trick" part of Halloween, involved me in a couple of pranks - saddling a milk cow (I was sure we were going to be caught since the dog never quit barking!), jacking a car up in a garage and putting it on blocks (so it would not go anywhere when the lady tried to drive it out). The most complicated - and stupid! - prank I was part of though, was when a carload of us, in the dead of night, drove to a farm owned by a farmer friend that was well-known to "act first, think later". The plan, to spread out all over the farm, make just enough noise to wake him, hide, then watch the reaction, took an unexpected turn when one of our group came back to the car, got the shotgun he had stashed in the trunk, pointed it to the sky and shot it off! It was double the fun, a trick on the tricksters - the farmer boiled out of the house, into his truck and peeled rubber getting to his machinery; the pranksters, thinking it was the farmer who had shot the gun, panicked. They certainly popped out of the grass so they wouldn't get run over. When shotgun pellets dropped to earth all around my husband, he didn't seek obscurity any longer. He ran to the house and identified himself to the farmer's wife. The farmer, meanwhile, reached the car but the bearer of the shotgun had put it away. Where was I in all this? At the car. I think I made the excuse that I was not dressed for crawling around on the ground, but I may have just been chicken... Since we were all friends, we ended up in the house for coffee. There were plenty of unaswered questions and no one quite believed the other guy since no one knew where the gun shot had come from except the guy who had done it and me, because I had stayed in the car. I think he had the last laugh that night. As I said, this was a really stupid thing to do - someone could have been run over with the madman farmer, gas pedal to the floorboards, made wide circles in the field!
To protect the innocent, I have not identified anyone. For those of you who know me and are wondering, you would be surprised to know who had the shot gun...
As the years went by, I left the pranks behind for costume parties. My boyfriend and I were Shiek and Harem Girl, African Headhunters and 17th Century Lord and Lady.The best ever was the Africans. We visited a couple of bars, then danced our bare feet off at the local dance. At 3:00 AM, I could barely stand in the shower to scrub the "black" off before I went to bed. The next day a client phoned to see if he could watch me ride his mare (like I felt like doing that!). He said he could see traces of black on my neck still.
As the years went by, I left the pranks behind for costume parties. My boyfriend and I were Shiek and Harem Girl, African Headhunters and 17th Century Lord and Lady.The best ever was the Africans. We visited a couple of bars, then danced our bare feet off at the local dance. At 3:00 AM, I could barely stand in the shower to scrub the "black" off before I went to bed. The next day a client phoned to see if he could watch me ride his mare (like I felt like doing that!). He said he could see traces of black on my neck still.
The last time I dressed up for Halloween, Vern Sapergia, my friend Barb, and I dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and The Big Bad Wolf. Vern Sapergia was Little Red Riding Hood! We visited several friends around Armstrong but never identified ourselves. Sorry - no photo. I tried, but apparently I did not have film in the camera. What a shame!
1 comments:
You and Vern had us going, when you arrived at our door (knocking which no-one did at our place)... After a couple of drinks of wine and other concoctions, Vern had to roll up his sleeves and bare his hands...
Gotcha, said John, I would recognize those Kobasha fingers anywhere...
Those were the good time... Thank you so much for bringing back that memory for me...!
Louise
Lazy L Performance Horses
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