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No Ho-Hum Evening

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The Tampa Tribune

Published: October 22, 2008

I thought of Halloween when I saw the decorations for the holiday already in stores at the end of August, and it made me reminisce and wonder if today's kids have Halloween fun as we did long ago. Actually, if they do some things we did, they might be arrested in this day and age. Of course, there were the parties, sometimes with costumes, hayrides, and/or bonfires. The most fun for me, though, was going "Halloweening." One such adventure follows.

Babysitting seems like an activity in which there's not too much chance for excitement. It was usually a pretty boring job, except possibly, when a young charge put his shoes in the oven and turned it on.

I didn't like to baby-sit, but it was my father's idea of teaching his 13-year-old daughter responsibility. My father did not allow protestations, so I tried to make the best of it. My father gave me rules for babysitting - no eating, no sleeping on the job, and the oft-broken rule, no talking on the telephone to friends. The one rule that was paramount, though, was I was never to allow friends inside the house.

This latter rule was a difficult one for me as I was madly in love with Jerry, who was one year older than I, and the son of the shorthand teacher who had one blue eye and one brown eye, but that is neither here nor there. I always tried to be obedient, so I never allowed Jerry into the house. However, we became very adept at kissing, with him standing on the outside of the back door threshold and me on the inside of it. Although uncomfortable, he never entered the house and so I felt quite justified in this form of entertainment after I had put my charges to bed.

One evening, the parents arrived home early. The headlights in the driveway tipped us off, so Jerry took off running, jumped the back fence, and split his pants wide open. However, except for this one small mishap, we were never caught.

In October, Jerry and I had a lot of fun going Halloweening when I wasn't babysitting. My dad had told me stories from his youth of tipping over outhouses, tying them to car bumpers, and tying people in their homes, so compared to his tricks, ours were pretty harmless. Our tricks included letting the air out of tires, including those of our English teacher, soaping windows, and sticking car horns.

When the actual Halloween evening came, I was disappointed I had to baby-sit with Skippy, a six-year-old. One of the last things his parents told me was Skippy had been bugging them to go Halloweening but he wasn't, under any circumstances, to go out of the house. I agreed and started playing with Skippy until my girlfriend Joann called. I complained I couldn't leave the house. She commiserated with me and then hung up. I continued playing with Skippy, but it was difficult, as he was constantly begging me to go out. I began to understand "bugging," the word his parents used. He was relentless.

As usual, Jerry came by but didn't enter the house. He knew the rules. He wasn't interested in kissing though; he wanted to go have Halloween fun. When I told him I couldn't go, he bugged me, and little Skippy joined in, "Please let me go, too."

Although definitely not a bright decision, I agreed to go with Skippy in hand. He promised he wouldn't tell his parents. I told him I would never be able to baby-sit with him again if he told. As I knew he considered me his best babysitter, I was fairly sure he wouldn't tell.

Off we went, the three of us. We continued the usual Halloween tricks, probably teaching Skippy a thing or two along the way. We had a great time, especially Skippy. He thought our tricks were great fun. Fortunately, I knew the time his parents were due back so I had it planned to arrive back before them.

In the meantime, while we were up to some mischief, Joann called several times, never able to reach me. Being somewhat excitable and knowing I said I couldn't go out, she assumed the worse and called the police to report something amiss at Skippy's home.

As we rounded the corner to Skippy's home, we saw two police cars with lights flashing and several policemen milling around the yard. Having no idea what was happening, we continued and, at their behest, explained we had taken little Skippy "trick or treating". They didn't notice Skippy had no bag of candy. I had several moments of concern, worried his parents would arrive soon.

The police were satisfied with our explanation and left, as did Jerry. When the parents arrived, they asked Skippy if he had had fun. He was very enthusiastic which brought the question of what we had done. "Oh, nothing much," Skippy said. I was relieved and vowed to go back to kissing over the threshold. I was never asked to baby-sit for Skippy again and, to this day, wonder if he told on me.

Rosie Clifton is the author of "Kissing Lots of Frogs, a Long Journey to Love." She may be reached through her Web site at rosieclifton.com.

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