I have always loved Halloween, and like everything else she did, Mom made it special. We never had costumes from a box. She made them herself. One particular Halloween remains vividly stored in my memory bank. I must have been about 7 which would make Tomi 5 and Ben 2. That year, Mom had made me a witch costume—hat and all—and Tomi dressed as a black cat, complete with whiskers and a long tail. Ben was a clown, I believe, but since he was a two-year-old, I had little interest in his existence at the time.
As much as I loved the magic of Halloween and adored to dress up, Tomi absolutely detested it. She, like all of us, enjoyed the candy aspect, but she hated to be costumed beyond her comfort zone—something that continues to be true—and abhorred a mask of any kind. In those days, masks were not plastic or rubber. They were constructed of a gauze-like material that had been hardened with perhaps a corn starch. Whatever their physical makeup, they got goopy around one’s mouth after a bit, and this was an irritation beyond Tomi’s ability to endure. I, on the other hand, adored both masks and green makeup. What can I say? Pretend is a world I have always loved to inhabit.
On Trick or Treat night, Mom took us up and down Front Street in Vanceburg as we lived at my Grandmother Pugh’s house at the time. (We called her Hama, and later, just Hame.) We’d just approached the alley by Nellie Himes’s home—across from the utility plant—when Tomi threw a hissy fit. By this time, we’d gone but two blocks, but Tomi's cat tail dragged the ground and sometimes tripped her. Added to that inconvenience, her mask had reached a very goopy stage. Plus, she said she was hot, and Tomi does not like to be hot, ever. “My hair is sweaty,” she complained. Mom tried to console her, but Tomi was having none of it. I became selfishly concerned. What if we didn’t make it to the Mrs. Danner’s house? She always gave us great candy!
Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I pretended not to notice that our little procession had halted at the alley and walked quickly ahead. I heard Mom call to me as I knocked on Nellie’s door, but I pretended not to. “Karen. Come here this minute!” she commanded. I continued to be deaf to her orders, thanked Nellie for my candy, and walked briskly on ahead. I just knew I could make it if I just kept going forward. Fears of consequences for disobedience were deadened by my love of chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. I was really booking it when I heard Mom again, this time in her “I Mean Business” tone. “Karen Pugh! Stop this minute!” I brazenly ignored her again and continued on to what I now considered to be The Promised Land. (Little brothers and sisters can be such a nuisance to the oldest sibling.)
The next thing I knew, Mom was grabbing my arm and yanking me around to face her. “Did you or did you not hear me, young lady?” Wow! The “young lady” had come out. I knew I was in for it then, but I exacerbated my crime by lying.
“Hear what?” I asked, trying to look as innocent as one can while wearing green face paint, a black half mask, and a pointed witch’s hat.
Mom did her killer glare, kept my arm firmly in her grasp, and practically dragged me to someone’s house. The owner of that house stood there, haloed in the beam of a porch light and a glowering jack-o-lantern’s face. She, evidently, had been quickly enlisted to mind Tomi and Ben. “Mom’s gonna get you,” Tomi hissed. She no longer wore her mask and her tail had been knotted several times so that it no longer reached the ground.
Not giving up pretense for one moment, I looked at Tomi and said, “Why? I didn’t do anything.” Isn’t that the defense of every guilty child if there is no one else to blame?
Trick or Treat was over for for me that year. Mom carried Ben and Tomi happily walked by her side. I-- obviously the wronged one--plodded along behind. Mom didn’t even look around to see if I were there. She knew I would be at that point. Besides, it was getting really dark out.
Usually, when we returned from Trick or Treat, we got to sit in the living room, dump out our candy into a big bowl, and eat some of the loot. Not that year for me. As soon as we entered the door, Mom left Tomi and Ben with Hame and then looked at me. Joyce Elizabeth Stout Pugh was very petite and gloriously beautiful, but when she gave the mother look, I knew I had dues to pay. “March, young lady,” she said to me. Two “young ladies” in a single evening. I was in for it for sure.”
When we reached my bedroom, Mom told me to take off the costume and then report to her room. “Don’t let Tomi eat my candy,” I muttered. Let’s face it, as the wronged one, I felt all the more audacious. Of course, we adults know that this is nearly suicidal, but children don’t think that far ahead. I certainly didn't.
Mom initially said noting and went to her room, shaking her head. I could be a trial from time to time, I must admit. Within moments, I was standing in my underwear in Mom’s room, and she began removing the green makeup with her cold cream, being none too gentle, I might add. “You, young lady—Good Grief! Another young lady—don’t have to worry about your candy. You no longer have any candy.”
I could not believe my ears. I had no candy? How could I not have any candy? I had a pillow case over half full of candy, and I hadn’t even gotten to Mrs. Danner’s house. “Yes, I do,” I foolishly replied. Mom shook her head. "But where is it? Where did it go?” I could not believe my ears. I never had sense enough to let things go, not then and not for far too many years.
When would I ever learn not to talk back. “Your candy, young lady—There it was again—is in the trash can.
This travesty was beyond my comprehension. “Why?” I bawled. You can see that I was not too smart when I felt an injustice had been done. “It’s Tomi’s fault. She’s such a baby. We didn’t even get to Mrs. Danner’s house.” Mom’s non-verbal reply was quick and final. She took me by the arm, marched me to my room—practically dragged me--pointed to my bed, and still said nothing.
As I pulled up my covers, pouting and more than likely weeping—I was always quite the weeper—Mom said, “Good night. Say your prayers,” and then she shut the door. Just shut it! I was indignant. I was so misunderstood. So poorly treated. Punished without cause! How could she do this to me?
I could hear Tomi, Hame, and Mom downstairs, probably eating my candy, and having a grand old time of it. I thought about running away for the forty-eleventh time. I always featured myself to be a heroine done wrong, but the only time I actually did run away, I only made it to the Chevrolet Garage on Second Street.
I must have fallen asleep, because I never heard Tomi come to bed. She and I now have such a great relationship,and we have since we were teenagers, but at Halloween, I sometimes remember how she managed to do me out of my candy. I can’t bring that up though, or she will again blame me for breaking her leg when she bicycled into the back of a horse I was riding. Siblings: a blessing and a curse!
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