Boomers . . . and How They Got That Way

Epistle 18 – Halloween

Autumn in Brewster’s Mill was my favorite time of year. As a lad I could still block out the season that came next and enjoy the brilliant colors, the sparkling sunshine, crunching through the falling leaves, and that special spicy scent in the air—the smell of death. In the good ol’ days, you could burn all those leaves you raked to the curb, and the curling columns of smoke on every street were a cozy end to the green season.

Of course, you can’t burn leaves anymore—to protect the environment, I guess, not to mention all the lawns that caught fire. Maybe burning dead leaves also produced hallucinogens that made young Boomers goofy, sort of a giant, outdoor pot party. Anyway, instead of burning the leaves, today a truck comes along and some guy sucks them up in a big hose. The town leaf sucker.

Of course, the crowning event of autumn is Halloween, the one night when your natural weird habits are encouraged. My first memory of Halloween festivities was the neighborhood Kornstalk Karnival for which my mother dressed me as a really scary . . . Chinaman. There I was, a 5 or 6-year old, tow-headed kid wrapped in an orange oilcloth sheet that came down to my ankles, a Fu Man Chu mustache painted on my face, and a cardboard wok tied on my head.

Terrifying, huh? I can’t imagine where the inspiration for the costume came from since there were no Asians in Brewster’s Mill. Maybe it was that Chinese restaurant we went to on vacation in Milwaukee. Whatever. Anyway, while my brother was honestly earning his treats by ringing door bells, soaping windows and putting fire crackers in mail boxes, I wandered around the Kornstalk Karnival in my Chinese suit, wheedling the adults in charge into tossing candy into my shopping bag. It’s a shame nobody thought to take my picture. I could have been the first Bruce Lee.

Now, the cute little trick-or-treaters are out with their parents and an armed guard on alert for any candy not in a sterilized, vacuum-sealed package. Then, the treats are carefully doled out in exact proportions designed to prevent sugar overload and other assorted dietary maladies. Can you imagine these kids bobbing for apples in a washtub with a bunch of other kids with runny noses? How will they ever build their immune systems?

Of course, thanks to really cool special effects, today’s tykes can get the bejeezes scared out of them by psychos with chainsaws and other instruments of torture.
We had to make do with a stiff Boris Karloff as Frankenstein, a hairy Lon Chaney, Jr. as the wolfman, and James Arness as an arctic carrot, old friends that I’d love to see again but I have to go now. I have an interview for the leaf sucker job.

We Will Win

Filed under: Boomers . . . and How They Got That Way

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