When I was growing up our house was really only decorated once a year–for Christmas. The other holidays and seasons received little more than a nod in our home’s decor. We had very few Autumn decorations and even fewer Halloween ones. Here’s what I remember:
Two straw brooms with small miniature pumpkins and fake fall leaves glued awkwardly under an orange and brown bow.
A ceramic light up Jack-O-Lantern, a ghastly light up Haint, E.T., and a lidded Jack-O-Lantern, that were lovingly hand-painted and gifted to my family by Mrs. Juanita Wheeler, an old and dear friend of my maternal grandmother.
A Kitchen Witch, a small covey of brass quail, a brass pheasant and a ceramic votive-holder owl, all of which remained out for display no matter the season.
There weren’t any black cats, witches hats, skeletons, spiders or tombstones in the mix. No, not a one.
Maybe because there were so few, they made an impact on the memory. And because a memory just isn’t a MEMORY in my family unless it is accompanied by a tangible object, most of the objects remain. I believe the technical term for this is hoarding.
The straw brooms, or at least one of them, remain at my mothers.
The Jack-O-Lanterns and Haint are on display at the home of Sister the First, who graciously photographed them for me.
The Kitchen Witch is missing in action, presumably packed away in a box or stashed away in an drawer; kidnapped by a sister, but nobody’s talking, at least not yet, which probably means Sister the Fourth is involved. She’s the quiet one.
The ceramic votive owl is at the clubhouse with my daddy. I’ve claimed him, but so has Sister the Third, so I’ll probably have to duel her for it; then in a gesture of benevolence gift him to Sister the Fourth.
E.T., unfortunately is no longer with us, he phoned home!
I have the brass quail.
Sister the Third has the pheasant.
Perhaps because of the scarcity of decoration growing up or maybe because I’m a prime example of rampant consumerism, each year I’ve added a new Fall bauble to my own collection.
Here is a small sampling:
And since nothing goes away, my children will one day receive them ALL, memory-imbued objects to duke it out over or dispose of at their whim. Of course, since they are my children and are already a murder of crows distracted by anything shiny, I’m pretty sure they’ll keep it all. Good thing they have to split it!