As an alum of Ms. DeLong’s kindergarten class, I knew all too well that the girls’ restroom in the basement of the old Tutwiler Gym was indeed the scariest place on earth.
Going down a flight of cement stairs that switched back on itself left a perfect place for goblins to jump out at you, and you already had to use the facilities so it was a very tedious time waiting for the entire group of girls to go at once.
Going alone was surely a death sentence. Dark and dank and void of any welcoming frills, it was a perfect place for the yearly community haunted house, and thus the reputation grew yearly.
Tutwiler held a Halloween event, not on Halloween that I remember, but before. This was back when the entire county had a slew of baby boomers and parents ready to roll up their sleeves and do fun stuff for the community.
My mama told fortunes, Coach Cox manned the apple bobbing. Ladies sold caramel apples, popcorn balls and brownies. There were lots of games, but I forgot what all, because I kept looking over my shoulder at the round window to the heavy door leading down to the haunted house. I was scared in anticipation — the kind that tickles your tummy and gives you goose bumps. I knew I was gonna go, but I was delaying the inevitable when my friends said it was time. We lined up, because only a few at a time could go down.
Bigger people escorted us down, not speaking, and, yes, there were goblins jumping out around the stairs. We were led to a grave we walked on that gave way when walking, much like a metal spring mattress covered with a pad.
Next, the bathroom stall had a bowl of eyeballs and one had warm brains. There was screaming and the bigger people tried to calm us. It sounded like high school girls from church; no less scary since they were in high school. When over, we bolted to the gym floor screaming and laughing and wishing we had used the facilities.
During this harvest time, the church ladies, at least the Methodist church ladies, had use of a storefront downtown to sell their crafts. My mom and Aunt Evelyn spent months looking for unique things to make. Aunt Evelyn special ordered buttons with two large holes. She glued them on card stock and made owls by putting dots in the button holes for eyes. She sold so many for a pack as gift cards.
My mama always made caramel candy with pecan halves on top — a family recipe I may have misplaced.
Other ladies made aprons, dish towels and embroidered pillowcases. I buy those pillowcases today just because, I’m fixing to have a great-granddaughter and I think they would be a great gift. I’ve seen dresses and things made from pillowcases, but I remain a church lady pillowcase snob in this regard.
That’s what I miss about community, when folks all came together for a good cause, rolled up their sleeves and did things other than write a check.
I am much grateful there were no cameras on Halloween night to catch the Ivory soap in my hand as I ran amok on storefront windows. I am more grateful the store owners supported all of our youthful sporting and band efforts with uniforms and booster clubs and maybe, just maybe, laughed a bit as they washed off the Ivory soap.
