• Recent Posts

  • Archives

  • Categories

  • Meta

Halloween Hayrides

Posted on October 31, 2022 by susanrray

How do you entertain kids who are really too old to trick or treat? 

            Edna and Delmer Crouch, volunteer youth leaders at Byrdstown First Christian Church, knew exactly what to do with us young teens many years ago.  They loaded hay, some baled and some loose, in the back of a truck, told us kids to hop on, and then drove all over Pickett County for hours.  Every teen who attended church showed up for hayrides, even if they never went to regular Sunday night CYF, Christian Youth Fellowship, and Edna and Delmer encouraged us to bring friends.

            Remembering hayrides, I think of cold evenings, full moons, star-filled skies, wool blankets, and singing.  My memories are all happy, all romanticized, but I needed the help of two high school friends for details.

Sometimes Delmer drove a pick-up truck and sometimes a big truck with racks around the truck bed.  When he drove the pickup, we had to sit, but when he drove the big truck, we could stand.  Standing was fun; we swayed as we sang every verse of “Kumbaya” and “The Ants Go Marching One by One.”  

Sitting in a pickup wasn’t as much fun; maybe because we couldn’t lean our whole bodies with the curves.  Or maybe because it was common everyday practice for kids, of all ages, who lived in rural communities in the 1950s and 60s to ride in the back of a pickup truck.  No seats, no seat belts. 

Sometimes we even sat with the tailgate down to drag our feet on the road, but not on church hayrides because the tailgate was securely latched. While Delmer drove, Edna looked back through the cab window often and if someone wasn’t seated or threw a leg over the side of the truck, Delmer put the brakes on and the truck stopped.  Neither he nor Edna got out of the cab.  When the truck stopped, the culprit straightened up.

Edna’s watchful eyes must have also caught a kiss or two.  In fact, that was one friend’s memory:  on a hayride he kissed a girl, but he didn’t remember who.  Kissing couples didn’t kiss for long; we girls giggled at them and the boys teased and the kissers blushed. 

Sometimes we’d stop at a church member’s home where there’d be a campfire to roast hotdogs and marshmallows and sit around the fire to hear stories.  One night, Vicky wasn’t quite finished eating her perfectly browned marshmallows so she took them back on the truck.  Soon, white sticky marshmallows were in her hair and stuck in hay. What a mess!

Delmer and Edna’s son and daughter-in-law were the chaperones for one hayride, and we rode in the back of their big two-ton truck, usually used to haul corn.  The son drove around the river hill hairpin curves down to Dale Hollow Lake and into the lake just to scare us.  He did.  Delmer would never have done that. Martha summed up hayrides perfectly when she wrote, “I loved those hayrides! We always begged Delmer for a longer ride. Always.”   

Advertisement

Filed under: Halloween | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

A Fun Halloween Surprise

Posted on October 28, 2020 by susanrray

What’s the most unusual thing you’ve received in the mail?  When Daughter was a college student, she sent a shoebox filled with leaves.  Colorful fall leaves from Berry College in Georgia.  Why would she send this when our yard and driveway were completely covered with leaves? 

            As teenagers, Daughter and Son teased me about my Leaf Reports.  Beginning when they were very young, I talked about leaves.  “Look, the trees have big buds.  In a few days, we’ll see leaves,” I said in the spring.  During summers, we identified trees by their leaves.  My children said I gave daily Fall reports: the changing colors, falling leaves, and the crunch of dried leaves.  Daughter’s box of leaves was a happy surprise, and I kept that love gift for years, stacked with other shoe boxes in my closet.

            Last week the mail carrier delivered an even more unusual gift.  Our 15-year old Grand was visiting and said, “Look what you got in the mail, Gran.”  He pointed to a small pumpkin, about seven inches tall and six inches in diameter.  It has a jagged-tooth smile, a triangle nose, and smiling half circle eyes drawn with a black marker.   

            “What?” I said, “This was in the mailbox?”  My Grand explained that the pumpkin was delivered to front porch.  “Where’s the box it came in?” I asked.

            “There wasn’t a box.  Look, your name is on it,” he said. There’s a hand-written address label secured with clear packing tape and a United States postage label showing the mailing cost, $8.70.  Another postal service label gives the tracking number. 

            “You mean it came through the mail like this?” He looked at me with the look that only a teenager can give.  I’m glad he didn’t say, “Duh, Gran.” 

            There was no return address so the person who sent Happy Jack wanted to remain anonymous.  The only clues were the hand writing looked familiar and “Mailed from zip code 38501” was on the label.  But who’d spend $8.70 to mail a pumpkin?  Why not just deliver it? 

            Maybe it was the person I’d talked with a few days before and she and I agreed that we love a good mystery and love solving it.  Maybe it was the friend who left a foot-tall yellow rubber duck on my front porch a few years ago.  Maybe it was the friend who likes to play jokes and knew I needed a good laugh.  All three of them responded to my text inquiries, “No, not me.” 

            I sent pictures of Happy Jack to Daughter and Son and they shared them with their families so we all laughed about this surprise and tried to figure out the sender.  After many guesses and sending many texts of inquiry, I received this reply: “Yes! I thought it’d be a fun thing to show all those Grands!”  

            Happy Jack sits on my back door step, and he is fun for all of my family.  But I’ll not tell who sent him because, after all, he was sent anonymously.             Happy Halloween!

Filed under: Halloween | Tagged: , , | 1 Comment »

Why is being scared fun?

Posted on November 1, 2019 by susanrray

Why does anyone watch scary horror scary movies?  Movies that are so poplar around Halloween.  And why visit a Haunted Houses? Is it fun when a terrifying person screams or a horrifying object jumps toward you?

            The only horror movie I’ve seen is the 1968 film Rosemary’s Baby, and if I could erase some of its images from my brain, I would.  Even now, fifty years later, my skin crawls and tingles as I remember my fear.  I understand it’s a classic and according to those who rate movies, it’s a great film and could be classified as suspense, not horror.  But parts of Rosemary’s Baby made me cower, close my eyes, cover my ears, and breathe deeply.  That wasn’t fun.

            My favorite Halloween movies feature a small ghost or a round-headed little boy.  With his bright blue eyes and open mouth smile, Casper, the friendly ghost, flits from scene to scene.  The classic movie, It’s a Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, dates back to 1966.  While Charlie Brown and friends celebrate Halloween, Linus carries his well-worn blue security blanket and searches for the Great Pumpkin.  I’m entertained by Casper and Charlie Brown, and will never know the stories of Edward Scissorhands or The Exorcist or the other top 40 scariest movies, most released in time for Halloween.

            I’ve haven’t been to a Haunted House.  I don’t like total darkness.   I don’t like not knowing what’s near me.  I don’t like jolts of shock and surprise.  When Son was a teen-ager, he stood behind me while I loaded clothes in the washing machine.  Because the dryer was running and water was filling the washer, the laundry room was noisy.  Son knew I startled easily so he simply said, “Hi, Mom,” in a calm, quiet voice.  I screamed, inhaled quickly, and shook all over.  All who know me well, don’t speak behind my back when I don’t know they are there.  Why would I pay money for an attraction that shocks and startles me?  Why does anyone?  That’s not a rhetorical question.  Why? 

            The fear response does keep us alive because an adrenaline rush helps our bodies react. When we are scared our hearts beat faster, our blood flows more quickly to the brain and muscles, and our bodies are stimulated to produce sugar for fuel. Maybe some people like the adrenaline rush. 

            I was a teenager when I ran from ghosts.  One fall afternoon, my high school girlfriends and I walked along a county road and stopped at a cemetery to rest and talk.  The wind blew dry leaves, both on the ground and atop oak trees.  As the sun set, we heard strange noises.  Shrieking noises.  Then howls.  And somebody saw something – white figures – floating in the woods.

            Adrenaline kicked in.  None of us noticed the scratches and cuts on our arms as we ran through a long farm field of dry corn stalks.  We outran the ghosts.

            Halloween is the time when some people watch scary movies and like to run from ghosts.  Once was enough for me.

Filed under: Halloween | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

Who Likes to be Scared?

Posted on November 6, 2017 by susanrray

downloadIt’s the season for haunted houses and horror movies and ghosts. Slaughterhouse. Dead Land Haunted House. Spooks Galore. The Haunting. Night of Demons. Halloween. Cemetery of Terror. A frightening list could fill this column and none would appeal to me. I don’t like being scared and don’t understand why anyone does. One ghost encounter was enough for me.

When I was a high school student, several girlfriends and I spent the night with our friend Nelda. An after school, Friday night slumber party on a late summer day.   We piled our books and overnight bags in Nelda’s room and went outside.

Nelda’s family’s farm was on a gravel road and not another house was in sight. We sometimes walked through the barnyard and across a field to a small cemetery. But that day, we walked the long way around on the country road because the field was planted with corn. Corn stalks, much taller than us, grew and the paths between the rows of corn were too narrow to walk through without being scraped by razor-sharp leaves.

In the cemetery, we laughed and talked. We made up stories about the people whose names were on the tombstones and those whose graves were marked with slabs of unmarked stones. We sat under the low branches of oak and hickory trees as the sun settled low in the sky. Then we got quiet. Quiet enough to hear silence –an eerie sound.

Someone whispered, “Ghosts.” Silence and twilight and tombstones were frightening. Ghosts? Where? Did you see one? My friends and I stood and huddled together. Nelda told us that someone had recently been buried in the back of the cemetery close to the woods. When we looked that direction, the sun probably cast a shadow or maybe a tree branch fell or perhaps a squirrel jumped from a limb to the ground or maybe nothing happened. Someone screamed, “Ghosts!”

We ran. Through the cemetery. Across a graveled road. Climbed a wire fence at a wooden fence post and ran into the cornfield. Corn leaves slapped our faces and scraped our arms and legs. Scared. Hearts beating fast. Away from the cemetery ghosts. A friend’s shoe fell off and still we ran through the biggest cornfield in Tennessee. Screaming for each other to keep up. Hurry.

When we finally made our way to a clearing, Nelda’s dad stepped out of the barn and more than one of us cried. Nelda told him we’d been in the old cemetery and heard scary noises. Maybe ghosts. Her dad was a man of very few words. He walked with us to the house and turned on the outside water spigot. Nelda’s mother handed us a bar of soap and towels. We scrubbed and rinsed and dried.

None of us were really sure what we saw or what we didn’t see. There were later times we same girls sat among the same tombstones, giggled and told stories, as teen-age girls do, but we never saw ghosts again.

Once was enough.

Filed under: Halloween, Uncategorized | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

Clowns – Not all Bad

Posted on October 27, 2016 by susanrray

screen-shot-2016-10-27-at-7-10-38-amI’m sad about what’s happened to the image of clowns. I like clowns – those happy, smiling, white faced, bright red-mouthed clowns. Clowns that make people laugh and clowns that touch the heart’s soft spot.

            I know that sinister, evil clowns have appeared throughout history. All the way back to ancient Egypt to the Joker, the archenemy of Batman, and characters in Stephen King’s bestsellers. I avoid scary, evil clowns. Don’t read the books or see the movies.

During the Middle Ages, clowns, known as court jesters, performed for royalty. In the 19th century, three ring circuses travelled around the country, and sad, hobo clowns became popular. In the 1950s and 1960s, Bozo and other silly clowns entertained children. And that’s when I grew up.

Maybe it was Red Skelton that first made me like clowns. My family didn’t miss his weekly television show that began in the early 1950s, and we especially liked when Skelton took on one of his comical characters. Clem Kadiddlehopper, a big-hearted, singing country cabdriver who was a bit slow witted. Sheriff Deadeye with his thick bushy mustache and eyebrows and wearing a fringed western vest.

Freddie the Freeloader, a tramp with a blackened chin, white mouth, crushed top hat and who chewed on a cigar was my Dad’s favorite. He laughed as soon as he saw Freddie and by the end of the skit, Dad had bent double, slapped his knees, and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. I laughed as Dad did this week when I googled Red Skelton and watched Freddie on YouTube. And Skelton ended each show saying, “Good night and may God bless.”

Before her birth, I decorated our firstborn’s nursery with clowns and bright primary colors. I sewed curtains from fabric printed with circus clowns riding bicycles, balancing balls on their noses, rolling huge hoops. Husband painted a wooden rocking chair bright blue and the crib yellow. There was even a clown lamp and a matching light switch cover.

When our children were young school age, Husband, Son, and Daughter marched as clowns in Cookeville’s Christmas parade. They smeared Zauder’s superior Clown White on their faces and necks and painted huge red mouths. Husband wore a multi-colored wig and blue jean overalls. The kids wore traditional one piece, long sleeve, and two-colored clown outfits.

That was about the time I started a clown collection. One of my favorites is a Norman Rockwell porcelain figurine entitled The Runaway. A clown wraps his arm around a young boy’s shoulder, holds him close with one hand, and wipes his eye with the other. A black dog sits at the clown’s knees. It’s a feel-good piece. A runaway child cared for by a stranger.

Because family and friends gave me almost every clown that sits among the books on our bookshelves, I like them all. The Emmett Kelly, the traditional sad faced hobo who became one of the world’s most famous clowns, is a reminder of the depression years. I treasure a two-inch unpainted clay clown that Daughter created and the tall blue and white one blowing a horn and the cow clown. After only a few years, I announced my collection was complete. Twenty-five was enough.

The current clown panic means there probably won’t be any kids wearing clown outfits thrown together at the last minute and shouting, “Treat or Treat!” this Halloween. I agree with Stephen King’s recent tweet as reported in The Week magazine, “Time to cool the clown hysteria – most of ‘em are good, cheer up the kiddies, make people laugh.”

Filed under: Halloween, Uncategorized | Tagged: | Leave a comment »

It’s Pumpkin Time

Posted on October 19, 2014 by susanrray

search-1 “What happened to that pumpkin?” my young Grand asked. She pointed to what looked like a normal pumpkin to me so I asked what she meant. Why did she think something had happened? “It’s a funny color. Did it fade?” she asked.

No, it didn’t fade. It was a tannish-orange colored pumpkin like the ones that everyone cut to make jack-o-lanterns when I was a kid growing up in Pickett County. A plain pumpkin. The same kind of pumpkin that Mother cut up, scooped out the meat, and used to make a pumpkin pie. A field pumpkin.

Field pumpkin – an apt name. Dad grew them in a field, usually close to or in the cornfield. He and I would walk among the dry corn stalks, which scratched and scraped my arms, searching for a perfect jack-o-lantern pumpkin. It had to sit flat and not tip over. The skin had to be smooth with no ugly bumps, at least on one side. I liked a tall, skinny pumpkin. Then there was plenty of space for a face to be cut out. Triangles for his eyes and nose and a mouth with jagged teeth. And we’d dig out a place inside on the bottom to stand a tall, maybe a six-inch tall, candle. A real candle.

My Grand’s questions made me notice all the many varieties of pumpkins available at Farmer’s Market that Saturday morning. So how many kinds are there? A website for seeds (http://www.johnnyseeds.com) lists 67 pumpkin varieties. Looking at the pictures, I counted 45, almost 70%, bright orange ones. Only one was the color of every jack-o-lantern my daddy helped me cut.

The seeds available on the website promise to grow pumpkins in many shapes and colors, and all sizes! Most are traditional round shapes, but some look like gourds and one like a banana. Most are bright orange, but some are green or blue-green or white or speckled with orange and green splotches. The Marina Di Chioggia variety is the size of a softball and has a “blistery, bubbled, slate blue-green rind.” A five pound Bliss has a “mottled appearance that resembles a frog’s skin.”

The Dill’s Atlantic Giant variety commonly grows to be 100 pounds and can be up to 1500 pounds. I wonder if the 1405 pound pumpkin that won first place for giant pumpkin at the Great Pumpkin Festival in Allardt, Tennessee a couple of weeks ago was a Dill’s Atlantic?

While my Grand and I wandered through Farmer’s Market that day, I told her that she could choose a pumpkin to take home. One that would be all her own. She chose a tiny one – bright orange of course – that just fit in her small hand. I’m pretty sure it’s a Wee-B-Little.

And I bought two pumpkins for fall decorations, although my Grand said they probably weren’t real pumpkins because they weren’t the right color. A soccer ball size white one and a green and white striped one that looks like a big gourd. And we bought a tall, bright orange one to cut for a jack-o-lantern. Why choose a faded pumpkin when you can have a bright orange one?

search

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: Autumn, Halloween | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »