A Hand-made Halloween

During those seven magical years growing up on that old familiar street not so far away, there’s no other way to say it – dad was cheap. He’d continually go around the house switching off lights and then asking us, “Who left the light on again?” What does my dad, the light police, have anything to do with going cheap on Halloween? Just keep reading, Dear Reader, we’ll get there eventually and learn a life lesson too.

Dad’s cheapness didn’t stop with lights. When we complained about being hot during the summer, instead of running the air-conditioner, he said, “Just open the window. It’s fresh cool air, and it’s free.” Of course, that really doesn’t work so well during July and especially August. August in Georgia is so hot and humid even dogs under front porches won’t come out and bark at you. You’d think Dad would break down and switch on the air-conditioner then, but nope. He simply bought box fans and placed one in our bedroom window.

Even as a kid, I quickly realized three things about a box fan in a window. First, it sucks the very hot outside air into the room. Second, it blows said very hot outside air all around the room. And third, it does absolutely nothing to cool off the room. You’ll still be lying in bed sweating trying to go to sleep, praying for dad to cut on the air conditioner. Which of course he never did. But there’s more to my dad’s efforts to save money while we all lived on Flamingo – especially when it came to paying for water.

Around bedtime, Dad switched hats and became the water police. He’d time our showers, and if we went over the time allowed, he’d start banging on the door, “Times up! We don’t have an endless supply of water.” Didn’t take long for us kids to realize if we didn’t want to go to bed with a head full of conditioner, we needed to take quick showers. 

Just recently I tried a similar water-saving technique with one of our granddaughters as she walked to the bathroom. “Please don’t spend forever in there. It’s late and we want to go to bed.” 

The Wife turned to me and asked, “Since when did you turn into your dad?” 

Upon hearing this, I called through the bathroom door, “Sweet Caroline, take as long as you want.”

The Wife smiled and said, “Now let’s talk about how low we’re going to set the air tonight.” But I digress, this story isn’t how Dad’s cheapness has followed me through the years. It’s about a cheap Halloween. (See, I told you we’d get there eventually.)

As cheap as our dad was with money spent for lights, air-conditioning, and water, he outdid himself being cheap when it came to Halloween. During all those years spent growing up on Flamingo, none of us kids ever wore a store-bought costume. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to, but rather each year, Dad would say, “Not going to buy you five kids something you’re gonna wear only once. Don’t have a money tree in the backyard.” I already knew this. 

If we had a money tree in the backyard, we could run the air-conditioner so it would be freezing in our bedrooms at nighttime. Every light in our house would never be turned off, and endless showers would be a reality not just a dream. Alas, this never happened and neither did store-bought costumes; instead, we had to make our own.

For Halloween, my three brothers, The Sister and I spent days making our own costumes, and each year they were different. Some years we made them together (like the ten-legged horse), other years we competed against each other to see who could make the best and thus receive the most candy while trick-or-treating. Eventually the time we spent living on Flamingo came to an end and, likewise, the time spent walking the street trick-or-treating. 

Many years later, I finally asked my dad why he was so adamant about no store -bought costumes. Why was he so cheap? His answer surprised me and is Life Lesson Number Ten.

Dad’s answer came as a question, “So it’s been over fifty years now, and you still remember each costume and how much fun you had with your brothers and sister making them, right?”

“Yes, I remember every one of them.” Then I smiled, “Yeah, guess it was a lot of fun.”

 “And that’s the reason. How much fun would it have been going to the store and buying a costume? Would you remember that?”

I thought about it for a while then shook my head, “No. Don’t think I would have.” 

Unbeknownst to any of us, every Halloween our dad had given us all a life lesson wrapped up in a childhood memory. Not a cheap trick, but a real treat.

Then I asked, “But wait. What about not running the air-conditioner, constantly being on us to cut off lights, and all those timed showers?”

Dad laughed, “Oh, that. I was just being cheap.”

Life Lesson Number Ten: Some of the best and long-lasting childhood memories aren’t bought in a store – they’re hand-made. This year help your little goblins make their own costumes. You’ll give them a memory they’ll remember for the rest of their lives – and save a few bucks along the way!