I have a profound and distinct memory of my grandma jumping out from behind the front door wearing a gruesome witch's mask. One would think that as a five year old that event would have absolutely scared me for life and that the mention of witches or grandmas would leave me trembling. But, that is not the case. I remember laughing with my grandma once she removed the mask. Of course I knew it was my best pal beneath that creepy mask, but that mask meant something great was coming - Halloween.
Halloween and my grandma are synonymous in my mind. Yes, at first glance that may seem extremely strange, so allow me to explain.
The house that I grew up in was perfect for Halloween. A long thin walkway spanned a two level front yard. The white pained walk led to twelve, red brick stairs. The lower terrace had long, thick shrubs that ran parallel with the street. The second terrace had a long, white plaster, red brick topped wall that ran the length of the property in the front. One thin, sickly looking tree stood tall and alone on the left upper grassed terrace. On the right side there was a single, lush tree that covered half of the small front patio. It partially concealed the three paneled-windowed nook that my grandma called her room. On the far side of the front yard there were three, gigantic shrubs that reached to the second story of the house. Back on the porch there was a black mail box, a door bell from the thirties, and a hanging, wooden two-seater swing. If you're a House Haunter like me, you're probably drooling with the ideas of the countless possibilities. And let me tell ya, we took great advantage of the beautiful layout of that house for Halloween (and Christmas, for those of you who are wondering, but we'll get there).
For over FIFTY years my grandma, her creativity and that house won the unnoficial contest of Scariest House in the neighborhood. She loved Halloween and she loved hosting parties, traditions that she passed on to me. I wish we had the foresight to take photos of the house when it was dolled up for Halloween. I'll never forget one time when the front of the house made a little boy cry on the street because he absolutely did NOT want to approach our house. It was great.
Our approach was simple; surprise and imagination. We never did gore and we didn't go for the slasher nonsense. We had hanging ghosts that lit up, shook, and screamed, triggered by unsuspecting victims shouting, "Trick or Treat." We concealed the front porch with black plastic, making people shake at the knees for fear of what lie behind the curtains. For it is the unknown that scares folks the most. I recall we once had a skeleton hanging from our sad little pathetic tree that we wound in cobwebs. Side note, here's a pet peeve of mine - when people glob the fake spider web on bushes and on their houses. It looks like snow, not like the webs of spiders. Take the time to spread it out folks, make it look real. Now, if you're going for the "Cutsie" Halloween, that's fine. But if you're trying to make small children cry and adults shudder in fear, spread the web.
I've painted a rather creepy picture of my Halloweens at grandma's, but they weren't only about tricks. There were also treats. Loads of treats. My grandma was the best hostess, complete with pearls. (Another tradition she passed to me - wearing some now as it happens).
Grandma used to handmake popcorn balls. She would spread butter over her hands so that she could handle the hot popcorn without burning herself. She would make popcorn balls to hand out to the brave ones who made it through the tricks as they had earned their treats. There was a traditional drink we made for all of the parties - it was simple; green sherbet and seven up in a deep bowl. We'd put the bowl in a cauldron and have dry ice below, so it looked like something wicked was brewing. It made for a tasty potion.
The parties that my grandma held were legendary. I remember one where we had the outside of the house, the entire inside AND backyard decked out in Halloween. We turned the upstairs into a "haunted room" and it was fantastic. There must have been over 50 people there, all in costume. There were games, food, music, and laughter. It was a wonderful party. I was probably six, but I remember it like yesterday. Grandma's house was and remains to be in my heart a source of sunshine and hope even on days when the skies are grey. I return to her home often in memory and in dream. This time of year I feel especially close to my grandma and that home.
So that, dear readers is why I love Halloween. Even though my grandma has been gone for just under ten years now, I feel that if I can keep her tradition of Halloween alive, then she will always be here with me. I hear her laughter. I feel her kiss on my cheek. I recall the smell of her jewelry box. It's those little details of herr that I miss the most, but those details, and my dear sweet Grandma live on. She lives through me and through Halloween.
Looks like I found a photo of my grandma on Halloween:
Thank you, my dear readers, for sticking with me week after week. You have no idea how healing these blogs are for me as I hope they are for you. Thank you for tuning in and I will write you all again next week.
Your humble author,
S. Faxon
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