The Halloween Trunk

Halloween is tomorrow, and for the first time in decades my husband and I are decorating and preparing to receive neighborhood kids and pass out treats. We now live in a 40-ft RV in a secluded upscale RV park, and quite a few of the residents are long-termers, as are we. Quite a few of the families have children, and so this year the management decided to publish a map of which rigs would have things to pass out. The list was a bit sparse, so we were happy to add our names to it. And of course, I'd have to figure out a costume.

No store-bought costumes for me; my father would roll over in his grave. As I was considering what to dress up as, memories of the 'Halloween trunk' in the attic or basement of whatever house we were living in came to mind. I always thought my dad in another life would have been a stage manager or some sort of role in the theatrical department, because he took great delight in hauling out that trunk each Halloween and letting his imagination run wild.

My siblings and I never knew what we were going to be for Halloween; that was decided when Dad got home, and it often depended on the weather. Really cold? Something loose that would permit snow suits and long underwear underneath. Rainy? Something waterproof. And while we kids were eating an early supper, Dad was rummaging through the trunk. It contained all sorts of things that could transform a kid into almost anything. There were old wigs, burned cork, makeup long past its prime, curtains and tablecloths that had seen better days, and scraps of lace and ribbon rescued from my grandmother's sewing bin. A lens from a broken pair of sunglasses got made into an eye patch. A broken cap pistol might live again as a cowboy's six-shooter.

And each year new contributions went into the trunk. I remember one year my brother Tom was a pirate; is head was wrapped in some black fabric, held in place with an old rather loud tie of my dad's. The sword my dad crafted with aluminum foil and cardboard came out multiple years. In fact, rolls of aluminum foil were standard for that trunk. One year my little brother was a Martian, with a disposable pie plate for a helmet; a broken TV 'rabbit ears' was affixed to the top for his attennae.

There was even a hospital gown from my tonsillectomy on my 6th birthday. (How he managed to smuggle that one out of the hospital is still a mystery.) Of course, working for 3M he had access to the company store, and some of the clearance bin stuff made its way into the trunk, too. Even empty plastic rolls from tape and ribbon could be useful. Often broken household items got tossed into the trunk - they might be put to good use some day.

As I look back, I think that experience was what formed my Halloween costume approach. We never bought costumes for our kids. And while I didn't have a trunk like Dad's, the thrift store was my costume bin. One year it was going to be really cold, and so an vintage woman's beaver coat became a bear suit for our son, Andy. Pretty simple - I cut off the sleeves and he wore them held up with suspenders over his snow pants. The hood of the coat made a perfect bear head, with little scraps from the sleeves made into ears. What was left of the coat body was easily fashioned into the rest of the bear. And that little guy stayed nice and warm!

I think the best costumes of all for our kids were the ones we created for the Halloween blizzard of 1991. A clearance white hooded sweatsuit several sizes too big was perfect for Andy the cow....warm clothes underneath, and horns made from old pink rubber glove fingers. Jess picked her own costume out - another thrift store sweatsuit plus some scrap fabric, a warm hat, and leather gloves with hand warmers and she was a delightful Minnie Mouse.

Nothing like a bit of creativity. I'm already working on my cat costume for tomorrow night. I think Dad would approve.