“MY MOM’S HANDLEBAR MUSTACHE”

First, do you know what you call a goblin that gets to close to the bonfire?

It was Halloween and the Ladies Aid Society was having a masquerade party in the basement of our little country church. Of course no one could afford to go out and buy costumes back then. You just scrounged around the closets for something that would work

Hard to believe that now around 1.5 billion will be spent on adult costumes this year; actually more than is spent on kid’s Halloween costumes, around 1.3 billion.

Anyway, Mom put together a gypsy outfit with a red skirt, some beads and baubles and a bandana around her head. I thought she looked pretty sharp and would surely win the contest of being the last one guessed. But wait, she had no mask. “That’s okay” she said, “I’ll just wear this old mask” she declared, picking up a beat up false-face from the bottom of a trunk.

“No, mom” I declared. “You can’t wear that. It has a mustache! You need a ladies mask.” After all, this little hobo was going with her and in my six-year-old logic that just wouldn’t do at all. I wanted us to win. The rumor that had circulated around the Sunday school classes the week before was that the first prize was going to be a bag of candy corn! Of course, for a little farm girl that sounded like heaven to me.

But my mother wasn’t about to spend money on a new mask and off we went to the party. Needless to say, I was embarrassed and humiliated. I was afraid they would laugh at my mom.

Then as the evening wore on different people were recognized in their disguises and their names were called out, but no one had recognized her. Everyone was puzzled. As they milled around her I heard one party goer say, “ Is that a man dressed like a woman? Can’t be a female. None of the ladies would wear a mustache.”

But then everyone’s identity had been guessed but us and guess what? We won!

I remember riding home in the back seat, clutching that bag of candy corn and thinking, maybe my mom was pretty smart after all!

By the way, a goblin that gets too close to the bonfire is a toasty-ghosty.