This is a true halloween story that happened to me and my family the first halloween after we arrived in England in 1953.
We were living in Cambridge, in a house that had been built in 1863, per the date etched into a stone, above the front door on the second floor. The house was a three story house, and did indeed look old.
My parents decided it and its style would fit perfectly for a halloween party they had decided to hold for their friends from Molesworth RAF Station where my Dad was stationed. They had also invited several of the English families that we had become friendly with since arriving. There were halloween decorations both outside and inside, many never seen in England before, from what we were told by our neighbors.
As the time came about, we became aware of the fact that English children did not celebrate halloween in the same manner we did, so this party was also designed to show them how a "typical" American halloween party was done.
My Mother had made up "cats eyes", (peeled green grapes partly dipped in red food coloring), (worms, boiled parts of spaghetti), fresh eggs to step on (soda crackers in their place after blindfolding the person and spinning them around), (secret messages, written in lemon juice and brought out by moving across an open flame), and oh so many more neat little things.
All the American kids and English kids had arrived before the parents, as we were having a children's party first, followed by a family type meal for everyone, then the adults were going to have their party while the childern got to watch movies up in my bedroom, that my Dad had gotten from the Air Base.
My parents had decided to use my bedroom, which was the whole top floor, as a gypsy fortune teller's tent, and my Dad had gotten an old large orange and white cargo parachute from the base, and hanged it in there in my bedroom to form the tent. All the stair lights were turned off, and only a flashlight (torch to the English) was allowed to make ascent to the bedroom, which was also in the dark, except for candles. My Dad was dressed as a Gypsy Woman fortune teller and I was dressed as a girl assistant to escort the other children up the stairs. Before we had started this part of the party, my Mom had written a message pertaining to each child on a paper in the lemon juice, gave to them, telling them to hang on to the paper, as it was important and would be needed later. When the fortune teller time came around, we started taking kids up the stairs, but NONE of the English children would budge from where they were either standing or sitting and most had very large, astonished looking eyes staring at me. We kept telling them they needed to go up and see the Gypsy fortune teller and none would budge, only saying, "NO", and several of the younger children were starting to cry. We were really puzzled about all this reaction, but did not know how to overcome it. About 5-10 minutes after we had started, one of the English boys parents arrived and we were finally able to find out what was wrong and what was going on. Apparently in that time period (I don't know if it is still done today or not) many parents would tell their children "if they were not good, the Gypsies would come and take them away". So, we had unknowingly "stepped into it" by doing the Gypsy fortune teller routine. They were not going any where near a Gypsy, for any reason.
This was a very different halloween to be sure and one I have always remembered in my mind and heart, as it took us a long while to regain the trust of our childrood friends.
I felt this was more of a blog type entry rather than a halloween story as would be read in the halloween story offerings.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERY ONE, BOTH NEAR AND FAR, Janice Lynn
Comments
It's true ...
... when I was at school in the 1940s and 50s very few children would have even heard of Hallowe'en let alone celebrate it. Even when my half siblings who are 9,11 and 13 years younger than I were at school the same thing applied. Certainly for me it's a totally alien concept and mostly ignored. Our Autumn festival is Bonfire Night (aka Guy Fawkes Night) when we symbolically burn the person who attempted to blow up Parliament in 1605 together with the King in a Catholic plot.
In reality not all that many people are aware of the details about Bonfire Night either. I think one of the reasons for its longevity is that November 5th is a good time to be burning all the dead stuff in our gardens and the evenings are dark enough early enough for a good firework display.
On gypsies, I vaguely remember the rhyme - I think it's skipping rhyme
"My mother told me that I should
Never play with gypsies in the wood ... etc"
There was certainly a tradition that gypsies were dangerous people who stole children. Nonsense, of course, but travellers and gypsies are not well liked by the so-called settled community for all sorts of reasons ... some of them justified to a limited extent. So I can understand the reluctance of youngsters in 1953 being suspicious. It's an interesting story.
A house built in 1863 isn't as unusual as US citizens may think. I guess that our cottage is at least as old - I've never checked. And we used to use the term flashlight when we sold them but torch is the more common term here.
Thanks for the reminiscent story. It rings very true to me.
Robi