Sandy Colored Hair

We still have a local, and a national, newspaper delivered every morning. Sometimes I don’t take the time to read them until the end of the day.

Like most stylists I’ve known, when I walk in the door, the shoes come off. I love to put my bare feet on the tile floor in the kitchen, its coolness instantly calming the burning ache of the day. And, like most everyone I know that stands for a living, I don’t sit down until I’m ready to stay down.

My end of day routine becomes ritual as I make a cup of herbal tea, grab the paper, and prop my feet up on the ottoman. Then, I wait for the cat to take his place. My patience grows a bit thin as he insists on taking up my entire lap and leans against my chest waiting for his nightly rubs. We jockey back and forth, eventually settling on an agreed upon arrangement…with me usually holding the open pages over his head, and then finally resting them to his side, twisting my torso to accommodate His Highness. I get all settled in and peruse each paper front to back, lastly working the crossword puzzle.

This all seems pretty mundane to you, I’m sure, as the blog title suggests something a bit more exciting, like a hairy Halloween. Yesterday I spotted the Dear Abby column below the daily puzzle. Every now and then the heading, printed in bold, will catch my interest. The letters, and answers, can be amusing, or tug at my heart strings. Abby, aka Jeanne Phillips, always has a simple, common sense approach to any situation. This time the top of the article read “Halloween decor is too scary for children”.

The phrase had been gnawing at my brain all day. After seeing those words, I was immediately transported to my younger days and the joys of Trick or Treating with my older sister. I don’t remember seeing any parents out with their kids back then. We went out after dark. The youngest children were already in bed and not allowed out so late.

We would trek around our neighborhood carrying huge paper shopping bags, the sturdy ones with twisted twine handles. We walked together scurrying from one house to the next, making sure to stop by Mrs. So and So’s for homemade candy apples and popcorn balls. I know…everything has to be packaged now. But, my parents knew her well. And, my Dad always inspected our loot. The stories of razor blades hidden in apples, or poisoned candy bars, were circulating back then too. Although there’s not ever been one documented case in this country.

Store bought costumes were pretty bad. The masks were made of a thin, cheap plastic and covered our faces…we would often shove them back on our heads like a headband so we could breathe now and then. We’d get all sweaty, not only from the unbreathable plastic, but also from the probably flammable fabric of the costumes. One year. I just had to be Snow White. After what seemed like an eternity in plastic, I vowed “Never again”. My cousins and I would walk from house to house with our “faces” on top of our heads and then lower them when we rang the doorbell at each place.

Most years, our parents couldn’t afford to buy pre-made outfits anyway. My favorite year I wore one of my father’s old suit jackets. It was made of heavy tweed, and kept my body warm on that particularly cold Halloween night. My Dad would burn one end of a cork with a match. Then he would rub the cork across my chin, leaving black soot on the skin to mimic a hobo’s beard. I must have been a sight, because at eight years old I still looked about five.

And, my very best memories are the ones that scared the bajeebies out of me. My sister, Linda, was so good at working up the creep factor. She told me a wild tale about one certain house and its inhabitant. She knew that when we walked up the porch steps they would creek loudly. And, an old grandfather clock would chime eerily from the rear of the home. She knew about the very old lady that lived alone there. By the time we reached the front of the house I was totally petrified. As we waited for that old lady to finally make it to her door, I could feel my knees knocking. The house seemed enormous. The porch steps groaned. The house had a spirit of its own. And, Linda had convinced me that the old woman was insane. But, we were too curious to turn back.

The large front door, carved of ancient, heavy wood, opened very slowly. There she was, standing there looking like she had just stepped out of a Bette Davis horror flick. She was extremely thin and pale. Her filmy dress seemed to float around her. Flames from several candles flickered against the wall, casting ghostly shadows that danced down the hall. She spoke to us with a shaky whisper and asked us to hold out our bags. Then, with grand ceremony, she used a large silver spoon to dish out jelly beans from a huge bowl sitting on a table just inside the door. We had to step in to retrieve our treat. She gave each of us one spoonful.

Then, like lightning, we were running back down those steps. I remember thinking “Don’t let me fall, don’t let me fall” I was certain I’d be trapped with the old maid forever if I didn’t get off that porch. We were both screaming from fright, and giggling with delight and wonderment, at the thought of anybody giving out loose jelly beans as a treat.

There were houses in the neighborhood decorated with far more elaborate attempts at scaring all of us kids. But somehow, we knew it was all for show. That big, old, dark house was the real deal…at least in our adolescent minds anyway. I know now that that dear lady didn’t have much contact with many people. And, I know that she delighted in seeing us in our crazy get-ups. I’m sure she got a laugh out of our running, screaming from her home. But, I also think she was a bit sad that none of us stayed too long or came back to visit. And I’m pretty sure that all of those candles were lit so that she could keep her electric bill down.

Dear Abby assured the letter writer that what she was describing was a feature of Halloween that many children enjoy…that you can’t “protect”your children forever…and, when they were old enough to understand, she could explain to them that it’s all done in the spirit of fun, and it’s not real or dangerous.

You go Dear Abby. I’m still a fan. Meanwhile, we will all be dressing up at the salon as usual this Halloween. I’ll share some photos on the Sandy Colored Hair facebook page. Happy Halloween everyone. Have fun and be safe.

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