With Halloween approaching, I find myself reminiscing about the pleasant late October evenings of my youth in Clinton, Illinois during the early 70's.
Football season, Homecoming, and the Apple & Pork festival, wrapped around Harvest Time and ending with Halloween, was always a favorite time of year.
The groups of guys that I "ran with" were good guys in that all had respected their parents and elders and in turn earned their respect.
There was ...
one Halloween, when we became possessed by the mischievous nature of young teens.
As a child, the carving of the pumpkin was a family event.
With a couple of large spoons, a big knife, a small knife, and old newspapers covering the table, the "Pumpkin Operation" was ready to begin.
Removing the top from the pumpkin, revealing the stringy, pungent smelling "goo", always resulted in a repulsive expression on my face.
After cleaning out the cavity, the face was carved, candle inserted, and yes, we gave it a name before setting the new family member on our front porch.
Most of our pumpkins would make it through Halloween without incident, however, on two or perhaps three occasions, our pumpkin fell victim to unknown assassins by being smashed on the street in front of our home.
I would later learn that my friends had also suffered their own losses.
It was both a sad and frustrating time for all.
Many Halloween's later, my friends and I decided that we were going to assassinate a pumpkin.
With painted faces and wearing dark clothes we went hunting for the perfect orange specimen in our small town.
Between the five of us, we could not find a pumpkin that did not belong to someone near or dear to us! The frustration would build with every glowing pumpkin face that we decided to spare.
From Yard to yard, bush to bush, our search continued.
Running from barking dogs, sliding in dog droppings, sweating, dirty, tired, and smelling like barn animals, we spotted the perfect orange ball of "goo".
The "mark" belonged to a retired English teacher that we all had in grade school.
The pumpkin was big, I mean, 1/3 of a Volkswagen big! As we approached the "beast", we immediately could see that the only thing between the retired English teacher and the pumpkin was a full-glass storm door.
Sitting in her rocking chair, with her back to the door, we moved in for the kill.
It took three of us to lift the "oversized zucchini".
Taking short, choppy, small steps we quietly grunted and laughed our way from the door to the sidewalk with "King Kong" in tote.
Not wanting to get caught, we wasted no time and immediately tried to bust the pumpkin.
I said, "we tried".
The giant pumpkin would not break! It bounced! We tried four times, laughing at each failure.
One guy that tried kicking it only managed to hurt his foot.
We were done! Quickly, we hoisted the "stubborn fruit" back to its original spot on the English teachers front porch, and left.
As I walked home, I wondered, if it was by accident or a result of years of wisdom, that our retired English teacher chose an unbreakable pumpkin.
I am sure it was the later.
Approaching my home, I was greeted by a smashed pumpkin in the middle of the street.
I couldn't help but think, "what kind of jerk would go out Busting Pumpkins"!