Trick or Treat!

 Halloween is fast approaching and while it is fraught with bad memories for me, there are also a few that bring me fond memories.  October 30 is/was my first journey into the state of Holy Matrimony.  While that did not last and has a lot of sadness connected with it, it nonetheless gave me all 5 of my children.  That is good.  It is also the day my brother was in a car cras and death claimed him the next day.  So this year I am going to take a journey back to Halloween when I was but a wee lass!

As I recall, Nickerson, Kansas boasted a population of 1200 souls.  Not every street had a street light, but most of them did.  Our costumes usually consisted of paper grocery bags that momma had saved from the Fleming grocery or Berridge IGA.  These were laid out on the table after mother had cut a mouth and eyes in them.  She then dug out broken crayons that she had saved from school last year.  Each one of us colored our grocery bag as we chose.  Jake always made a scar face on his. If you recall, he had a scar on his cheek that he carried all his life because a horse kicked him in the face when he was very young.  Anyway....

We were sent into the world of free candy carrying some sort of bag which we hoped to fill with candy.  We were also reminded to say please and thank you.  And don't be greedy!  Only take one piece.  Now back in those days we did not have to worry about some one putting razor blades in apples or dusting candy with LSD.  Our biggest worry was that the next house would  have a big bowl of candy corn and our greatest hope was that maybe somebody would give us a Hershey Bar.  Candy corn was gross and chocolate was hard to come by.  A lot of the homes had home baked cookies, which was good.  Back in those days the crazies had not yet came out of the woodwork and we could do that.  Not anymore!  Now the sacks have to be filled with individually wrapped items, taken somewhere and x-rayed before eating out of them.

It was always fun going from door to door and knocking.  Usually, some lady or her husband would come to the door and appear to be surprised and pleased to see us.  Usually.  If the porch light was not on that meant they were out of candy, so we just passed them by.  The hardest part of the whole thing was when we came to a block with no houses.  That is where the big boys hid and would jump out and steal our candy sacks.  They were high school kids, so we did not know them, and it only happened once to us, so we were careful to stay in the well-lighted areas.

The best part was when we got home and momma went through the sacks.  She examined each piece to be sure her babies would not bite into a razor blade.  She did not worry about the candy being laced with drugs, because back then, we did not know about the existence of such things.  Oh, the innocence of youth!

The short time I was in Plevna with the grandma's was probably one of my best Halloween's!  Population of Plevna was 109.  Of those few souls, several of them managed to steal a horse drawn buckboard from somewhere and hoisted it onto the roof of the gymnasium at the school.  Not sure they ever figured out who did that, but I think it was some ornery little rascals from Abbyville!  Or maybe Pretty Prairie.

So, here I set in my house that sets on a back acre.  No one will come to my house, because they cannot find it.  I will buy a little bag of miniature Heath bars or Almond Joy bars, just in case.  Course those happen to be my favorite candy bar and if  someone one comes to my house, I will give them one.  But if no none comes, I will have to eat them.  I hate to think of eating something I don't like.  

So there it is!  This year instead of mourning my brother or the demise of my first marriage, I will focus on the positive!  I will remember how happy I used to be all those years ago when we lived in abject poverty on a dead end street back in Nickerson, Kansas.  All I have left of those years is one sister.  The grandma's and aunt's and uncles are all gone.  I have a couple shirt tail second or third cousins, but that is it!

I also have my memories of days gone by and the best part of that is that they are mine and I can remember them as I choose to remember them.  Sometimes my memories make me very sad, but sometimes they are very happy and I can feel love over the years and the miles.  

That is the best part of old age!

Peace!

Memories are just that.

I have been promising a friend that I would bring him some Choke Cherry Jelly for over a week and once more forgot to deliver the goods.  So I was setting on the deck visiting and the subject of canning and jelly making came up which immediately turned to the good old days when we damn near starved to death.  See, back in those times it was a daily challenge to keep our rib cage seperated from our spine.  It took food to make that happen.  Course when two old people get together their main goal is to prove that thier poverty was worse then the other persons.  I usually win!  And I must confess, I have been known to lie.
We made jelly and preserves out of any kind of fruit that happened to fall from the tree.  Ever eat peach pit jelly?  Peaches were canned and peach preserves were made and then the peach pits were boiled and ended up as jelly.  Did you know peach pits contain a trace of arsenic?  I think that is right.  I am sure it is some sort of poison.  Know what to do with watermelon rinds?  Those were turned into perserves.  Apple sauce was a staple.  Apple cider was a luxury.  Ever eat carp?  Those were nasty, but after they were canned there were ways to stretch even those.  Carp is very strong, coarse and gives a whole new meaning to the word "fishy".

Brother Jake was very adept at bringing home a rabbit on occasion.  Now, I trust you know that we were always happy when it as a bunny rabbit as opposed to a Jack rabbit.  Jack rabbits are the males and are very tough and stringy and have a wild taste.  A nice little bunny is tender and actually pretty good eating.  Or at least they were back when we were growing kids.  Have not eaten one in years and the memory of what season he hunted in has dimmed so  I will bypass that fare on my table.
October 5 was my brother Jake's birthday.  He would have been 77 years old.  The one good thing about losing him is that we will forever live in my memory as a man of 28 years.  That is how I remember him.  He always wore  khaki pants and a tee shirt.  I close my eyes and see  his lopsided grin and the big scar on his cheek.  He had a habit of sucking air through a gap in his teeth.  Sometimes it was irritating, but mostly it was just Jake.
I guess it is only natural  when I think back on the growing up years  that I think of him first.  We were 4 years and 4 days apart.  When he went to the Army we wrote every week.  He introduced me to my first husband.  They were friends and stayed so until the day he died.  He did tell me once that he would understand if I did not stay with my husband, but back in those days when the wedding vows were taken they ended with "till death us do part." and were sacred vows.  But sometimes there are things worse then breaking a vow.
Jake was in a car wreck on October 30, 1965  and passed away on October 31.  October 30 was my wedding anniversary to the kids dad and my middle daughter, Dona, was born on that day in 1964.  Needless to say, this time of year is a little sad around here so I work way harder then I should and try not to put pen to paper.  Seems that when I see it in black and white, it is overwhelming.
So that having been said, I will stick my head back in the sand and head off for church.  Teresa and I are off to the Broadmoor on church business, so that should take my mind off life for a while.

I will be back soon though, to fill pages with my drivel.  Chin up!!

Halloween is a bad time of year.

Yesterday was October 30.  Had I remained with my kids dad we would have celebrated or in some way acknowledged 51 years of marriage, but I did not, and since he is no longer in this world I am assuming he did not either.  1964 marked the one and only time he took me out for our anniversary.  Took me to Saint Catherines Hospital in Garden City, Kansas and I gave birth to my third daughter, Dona Marie.  One year later to the day, he took me on a trip back to Hutchinson as my only brother was in a coma from a car crash the day before.  He died the next morning which was Halloween.  So you see, Halloween is not much fun here at my house.
But I do recall the Halloween's we had in Nickerson and they did not even faintly resemble the ones I see here in Pueblo County.  See. we did not buy a costume.  I had never heard of a costume shop.  We did what is know as improvise.  If mother happened to come across an old sheet in one of her cleaning jobs that was cabbaged on to and brought home and saved for Halloween.  Cut a couple eye holes and you were good to go as a ghost.  Old clothes were never tossed until after Halloween.  Hell, they were never tossed.  More about that later.  So when we left the house we were dressed as a ghost, a farmer (overalls), or a hobo (a stick with a bundle on the end of it), or a little kid going to school. The inside of the old wood stove gave us the black paint necessary to smear on our face so nobody knew who we were.
Brother Jake always led the pack with strict instructions that he was to watch out for the little ones and not let them get lost out there in the dark.  Hell, we held on to each other and if one of us got lost, we were all goners.  We knew that this was Halloween and that meant the real ghosts were out there and the Gypsy's were camped on the edge of town and we might not ever get home again.  Halloween was a very dangerous time.  I do not think sister Joanne went with us because she became interested in the boys very early and married an older man from town before I was even old enough to really know what marriage even was.  I just knew he had a black and white car and it was really nice.  But back to the streets.
"Oh, look Elmer, it is all six of them!  Let's see what we got here for these little ghosts and goblins."  And we would all hold out our brown paper bags which were saved just for this occasion. See back in those days there were no plastic bags.  Those came much later and were considered a luxury.  And she would smile at each of us and put a home baked cookie in our bag.  Or a piece of cake, or fudge or a hand full of store bought candy corn if we were really lucky.  Some times we would each get an apple.  Or an orange.  Most times they were just wrapped in a piece of wax paper or maybe nothing at all.  But that was back in the day before people started putting stuff in the home made cookies to kill little kids or sliding a razor blade into an apple so when they bit into it their gums would be sliced.
Yeah, that was back in the good old days of front porches, happy neighbors, good clean fun and everybody watching out for the little ones.  And as much as I miss those days, there were signs then of what was to come.  Nickerson was a little town with maybe 1200 people, but even then there were signs of what was to be.  We knew we needed to be off the streets and home before 8:00 because then the bullies came out.  Only one year did the bullies get our candy.  They just ran out of the dark and grabbed out bags and ran away.  My God, mother could her us wailing as we came home and thought surely the Gypsy's had gotten one of us this time for sure.  But my mother was wise beyond belief.
She knew who the bullies were and she was not even there.  The next day she left the house early and when she returned she had a big brown sack full of goodies for us.  Of course we immediately ate enough to make us very sick.  But the point here is this;  small towns are open books.  You just kind of know who the trouble makers are.  There were three of them in our town and they hung together.  Now whether my mother went to the bullies homes or just did daylight trick or treating and explained to every one what had happened,  I do not know. 
And trick or treating and Halloween aside, I would not trade my growing up years in Nickerson, Kansas, for all the tea in China.  While we were poor, we were rich.  I had a guy tell me just yesterday that he is rich beyond beleif because he has friends and a home and a dog and what more could one man need.  And he is right.  As I get older I find it takes less to make me a happy content woman.  Nickerson is always in my head.  I can travel to the ends of the world and meet Kings and Queens, but I will always be the little ragamuffin girl from Nickerson, afraid of my shadow and always needing my momma.  I can bury my brother, but I can never bury Louella Bartholomew because she will live forever my heart.   My hope is that some day, some one will pick up one of my journals and actually read it and think, " I would love to have met this woman.  And her mother.  And her brother.  And I wonder where her kids are today."
But right now, this is just another day to get through and I can feel my brother over my left shoulder as I write this, and I can see his lopsided grin and the long scar on his left cheek where the horse kicked him when he 9 years old and he snuck up behind the horse and "goosed" it.  He changed the date on his birth certificate and joined the Army at 16 years old.  That was before computers.  I sure do miss that boy and can not help but wonder about the man he could have become had he stayed on this side of the veil with me.  I guess today I will mourn the "what could have been." 
Happy Halloween.