Halloween has always been a fun time around the Coleman home.
Posted on 10/26/13
By Lee Coleman
My mother is the epitome of dressing up, planning funny pranks and laughing through it all.
As time has gone on, Mom can’t do those things any longer. Sad really but the memories she helped create for her kids goes beyond comparison.
And it was always about having fun and not the dark side of the moon.
But as kids, we heard the stories of ugly old women flying around on broomsticks and creepy crawlers lurking around every corner.
When I was about five or six years old, I recall the Halloween where I just loaded up on all kinds of goodies around the neighborhood.
After we were made to go home and stop ringing door bells, I slipped into my Batman footie pajamas and eased my way onto our front porch with my candy stash in tow.
It was a clear night with a full moon and my candy waiting. I was enjoying the precious morsels but really, I was waiting for said broomstick rider to appear overhead.
[Note to self- Charlie Brown and the pumpkin patch had nothing on this].
Instead of sitting there and scaring myself right out of my beloved pajamas, I started thinking about how cool it would be to be able to jump on a broomstick and just haul buggy.
To no where in particular, just wherever I wanted to go. And, all the kids in the neighborhood would want a ride.
I could make a mint and save enough money to buy that new Red Ryder BB gun I saw in the hardware store.
[Note to self- Another story for another day. Not everything will not put your eye out].
As I faded back into reality, I heard a noise behind me. Turning around, all I saw was the broomstick rider with her green face and black hat telling me to come inside.
After I shivered in my timbers and marked the spot where I sat, I realized it was Mom and she just laughed.
I stood up and felt a terrible pain in my stomach. Was it the nerves from my exciting broomstick adventure or my fancy with the mounds of candy I had just engulfed?
I told green-faced lady my tummy hurt. Swooping through the door, she laughed again and said,” Come inside. I’ll get you taken care of my pretty!”
But wait, broomstick riders aren’t supposed to be pretty. Surely she wasn’t talking about me.
Good thing I made it through that. And just to think, Thanksgiving is a mere few weeks away. More food, more fun.
Castor oil taint my friend.
Coleman is the editor of the Republican and can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.