Neighborhood spooks

One year my mom dressed me as Carmen Miranda, with a long, split skirt made from an old green drape. I had a hat made from the basket we used for popcorn, filled with plastic fruit. None of my peers even knew who that was. And then there was the year my mom fashioned a witch costume from a black velvet dress, a leftover from a rummage sale of one of my grandma’s clubs. That year, the last Saturday of October was especially hot, and I was miserable the whole day of the Halloween Carnival. 

One of the best events of the school year in Topanga Canyon was the Halloween Carnival. Our small community included so many adults who were artists and in other innovative and creative professions. The planning started early, and the day was highly anticipated. 

I know from the kid's side, most of us were thinking about costumes weeks ahead. Spirit Halloween did not exist at the time. And we truly pitied the child that sadly appeared in store-bought. From the tie on printed tunic to the stiff face mask, the plastic smothering was unbearable. Worse, it denoted a parent who just couldn’t be bothered. Such a child had zero chance of ever winning a prize in the costume parade. Not that I ever won such a prize. 

There were always witches, princesses, cowboys, hobo’s, and mummies. Requisite sheet ghosts followed assorted pumpkins. As the decade of the ‘60’s progressed, genies appeared, as well as rock stars and hippies. One year a girl won most beautiful with a very complete, elaborate wedding dress with a full veil. One year Alice Eide, my friend Lila’s younger sister, won most creative. Her dad made the costume, a witches hat. The brim was cut from plywood and painted. There were arm and eye holes cut in appropriate spots. It was truly impressive, but hard for her to walk in. When they came trick or treating, she couldn’t fit between the cats in our driveway. 

My Eide also had a huge hand in constructing the game booths that started appearing on the playground a day or two before. These were not pre-packaged carnival games. Still, they were fairly standard. There was the fishing pond, where you always got something for your ticket. Then there were various skill games of tossing bean bags or knocking things down with balls. The most popular booth every year was the one Mr Eide ran himself. It was simply a race between the next two people in line; who could hammer a big nail into a thick board first. 

Each game cost a ticket or two. I have no memory of how much the tickets cost. There were consolation prizes; a candy or small toy. I loved the red fortune telling fish. Winners won prize tickets that could be spent on bigger prizes in the cafeteria. Like an arcade, you had to be able to spend a lot AND be good at the games to ever get any of the good prizes. 

When I was in 6th grade, they announced a new contest for students, a cake decorating contest. I had recently mastered baking an applesauce cake from my mom’s Betty Crocker Cookbook. I picked out some small plastic Halloween figurines and orange and black sprinkles from the cake section at Safeway. My mom had to help me with the frosting, that was beaten stiff egg whites combined with grape jelly melted in the double boiler. The jelly made the frosting a light purple. I did a layer cake, stacking a round layer on top of a square layer. There was a figure on each protruding corner of the square and sprinkles on top. 

When I saw the array of creepy cakes with more elaborate icings, I had little hope. But I actually won! Well, at least for the category of prettiest. The cakes were sold, I think it was an auction. 

Our neighbor across the street, Mrs. Trindle, came just to see my cake and she bought it. She praised me for how good it tasted. She was always so kind to me, I would have made her a cake for free. 

I can’t imagine such a simple carnival would appeal today. Even in our suburban neighborhood, we don’t get many kids going door to door, they go to fancier neighborhoods. There is more chocolate and fewer wax lips. Still, this is the time of year that I most miss our connected community and trustworthy older neighbors who were there for any kid.