Found this piece I’d written in a box of personal memorabilia, probably written around 1998, it captures some fond memories of my childhood.
I was thinking my sister, Carol, her husband, Joe and I should carve pumpkins on Friday or Saturday… (They were visiting me in Seattle during October.)
That, you could imagine, was always a big family production growing up. Carving pumpkins.
After an afternoon drive to a farm stand somewhere a bit further east on Long Island and finding two perfect pumpkins, we’d arrive back home in East Williston, with the crisp fall night spreading over us, and Carol and I would march into the house, pumpkins in arms. We’d be instructed to spread newspapers across the kitchen table and sit down and draw our designs on our pumpkin. Then Dad would, naturally, do all the carving for us. (Not sure if this was because we were too young to handle a knife, or just his constant desire to do everything for us.)
Mom would set about to wash and roast the pumpkin seeds at the same time she would begin prepping for dinner. There we sat, it was not the first time the kitchen table had been taken over as a make shift work table, all four of us, all right there in that small robin egg blue kitchen!
I would always envision some elaborate detailed design, which Dad would say, couldn’t be done with an ordinary kitchen knife, and then I would always be disappointed that my creative inspiration did not quite come to pass. (Clearly, just a case of being ahead of my time, since pumpkin carving kits are now available in October in every store.)
Once the pumpkins were carved, we’d carry them to the front center hallway, and place them in the side windows, parallel to the front door. Of course this was after we waited for Dad to move furniture around and he had found two plant stands that would raise our pumpkins to waist height to be seen from the outside. There they would be placed, one on each side of the front door and we’d light the candles that Mom would have found without us knowing from her cupboard.
Finally with the pumpkins properly placed, Carol and I would run outside and shout back to shut the door and turn off the overhead light. Most likely a spooky witch on a broom or black cat paper cut-out from the Big D (our local five and dime shop) had been taped to the door earlier that day. Now outside, Carol and I would look back at how spooky we thought it all was, start to dance around and probably I would throw leaves on Carol and we would scurry around with Pepper, our cairn terrier, who by now would be chasing us.
Once called back inside, we'd find Dad on his knees, starting a fire in the living room fireplace and Mom would have decided that we should roll her maple tea-cart out into the living room, open it up and eat dinner in front of the fire with the pumpkins lit in the hallway. Funny, I can see the tablecloth she’d always pull out for the teacart vividly in my mind. Dinners by the fire in the living room were special. And fun! It all was just part of the joy of Fall. And it seemed you could count on these traditions, every year. Trick or treating with our neighborhood friends was still a week or so away, but carving pumpkins was about family.
I was raised being able to count on a lot of traditions and thereby learned to take much for granted about being part of a family.
After an afternoon drive to a farm stand somewhere a bit further east on Long Island and finding two perfect pumpkins, we’d arrive back home in East Williston, with the crisp fall night spreading over us, and Carol and I would march into the house, pumpkins in arms. We’d be instructed to spread newspapers across the kitchen table and sit down and draw our designs on our pumpkin. Then Dad would, naturally, do all the carving for us. (Not sure if this was because we were too young to handle a knife, or just his constant desire to do everything for us.)
Mom would set about to wash and roast the pumpkin seeds at the same time she would begin prepping for dinner. There we sat, it was not the first time the kitchen table had been taken over as a make shift work table, all four of us, all right there in that small robin egg blue kitchen!
I would always envision some elaborate detailed design, which Dad would say, couldn’t be done with an ordinary kitchen knife, and then I would always be disappointed that my creative inspiration did not quite come to pass. (Clearly, just a case of being ahead of my time, since pumpkin carving kits are now available in October in every store.)
Once the pumpkins were carved, we’d carry them to the front center hallway, and place them in the side windows, parallel to the front door. Of course this was after we waited for Dad to move furniture around and he had found two plant stands that would raise our pumpkins to waist height to be seen from the outside. There they would be placed, one on each side of the front door and we’d light the candles that Mom would have found without us knowing from her cupboard.
Finally with the pumpkins properly placed, Carol and I would run outside and shout back to shut the door and turn off the overhead light. Most likely a spooky witch on a broom or black cat paper cut-out from the Big D (our local five and dime shop) had been taped to the door earlier that day. Now outside, Carol and I would look back at how spooky we thought it all was, start to dance around and probably I would throw leaves on Carol and we would scurry around with Pepper, our cairn terrier, who by now would be chasing us.
Once called back inside, we'd find Dad on his knees, starting a fire in the living room fireplace and Mom would have decided that we should roll her maple tea-cart out into the living room, open it up and eat dinner in front of the fire with the pumpkins lit in the hallway. Funny, I can see the tablecloth she’d always pull out for the teacart vividly in my mind. Dinners by the fire in the living room were special. And fun! It all was just part of the joy of Fall. And it seemed you could count on these traditions, every year. Trick or treating with our neighborhood friends was still a week or so away, but carving pumpkins was about family.
I was raised being able to count on a lot of traditions and thereby learned to take much for granted about being part of a family.
love the idea about eating dinner in the living room while the lit pumpkins glowed for all to see. What a cozy image.
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