Halloween costumes pulled from the rag bag

Dad’s idea about old stuff was, "Throw it away where you can find it." He and Mom were short and heavyset, so their discarded clothes were about the right length. They could be stuffed with pillows to make witches and goblins. Old, ragged sheets and a handful of safety pins created wonderful ghosts. We made false faces out of brown grocery bags, using bright-colored crayons for hair, mouth and eyes. Sometimes we bought a false face, and I’ve not forgotten how those papier-mâché masks smelled - and tasted.

Only my best friend knew which one I was at the school party. On party day, we’d roll up our rag-bag costumes and stuff them in a sack.

After the last bell, we’d hide somewhere and put on our grabs. What an array of creatures appeared minutes later. Once, when our youngsters went to the rag bag, Nancy created the Mad Hatter, without my help. The hat was more than 2 feet tall, made with blue poster paper and came down almost to her knees. She wore her brown tights and my shoes.

Walt wanted to go as a headless man. We covered a cylindrical oatmeal box with skin-colored paper for the headless neck. I mounted this in a pillow, which made shoulders. He put on Chub’s shirt and tie over neck and shoulders peeked out between shirt buttons. My long all-weather coat completed the outfit, which almost dragged the ground.

Now about that black cat costume Mom made when I was a kid: Ethel, our neighbor, wanted to see me in that cat suit. About dark on the day of the school play, I dressed up, cat mask and all, and scratched on Ethel’s door, meowing in a strange voice. Ethel’s husband, Alex, who was a bit superstitious, cracked the door to see what was making those weird noises. Bang! He slammed the door. I scratched and meowed again, and he cracked the door, poked a broomstick through the crack and jabbed at me as if to do away with this monstrous thing in the dark. I swung around to avoid being poked.

Mom had made the cat’s tail out of one of her long black cotton stockings, stuffing it tight. When I swung around, Alex made a quick getaway. I heard Ethel trying to stop him. "Alex, it’s Sue! It’s just Sue dressed up!" I stood there, wondering whether to run or knock again. Suddenly the door opened wide, and Alex had the water bucket. Before I could get away, he had doused me with about half a gallon of water. I jumped back quickly, ripping off my wet cat mask. Alex was sorry, and I was able to dry out enough to go on with the performance at school. Later he said, "It was that big black tail that scared me."

As for me, I can still smell that wet papier-mâché mask.


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