Even Dinosaurs Love a Parade

 

It’s not every night you can watch a Halloween parade while standing next to a dinosaur.  Possibly only in my hometown can it happen. 

I believe it was about thirteen years ago that the Halloween parade tradition started in my little town.  We may not have everything here, but we have some dedicated Halloween enthusiasts.  For many years before the parade, West End Avenue was known as the “official” Halloween street.  Hundreds of costumed folks, young and old, patrolled the street near the town square every October 31^st, partly to collect candy but mostly to view the decorations and visit one house in particular.  At the foot of a steep hill just off the square, the McFarlin family created a haunted yard, a spooky wonderland.  Other homeowners made vain attempts to match their extravaganza, but it was impossible to measure up.  The huge crowds led to more events on the square – pumpkin carving, a costume contest, popcorn, candy giveaways by stores around the square and a good old time for all.  Even the local funeral home got into the act, creating a haunted encounter sure to scare those brave enough to enter.

As things happen, the Halloween family sold their house and moved across town.  But there were all those decorations.  So why not start a Halloween parade? It made perfect sense to the folks in Centerville.  Everybody loves a parade.

The Halloween parade takes place on the Saturday night before Halloween night.  As it happens every few years, sometimes that means back-to-back nights of festivities.  This year is such a year.  Last night, throngs of excited children (and adults) lined the streets along the route and watched friends and neighbors drive trucks, cars, jeeps, fire trucks, and gators along the streets, throwing enough candy to send everyone in town into a diabetic coma.  Spooky jails, pirate ships, cemeteries, and decorated hearses passed by us. 

 

A pirate ship sailed down the street!

The Ghostbusters were out and about, as well as the Jurassic Park vehicles.  The Flintstones even made an appearance in their stone age car, with shouts of “Yabba, Dabba, Do” along the parade route.  As I looked around, I thought about a Norman Rockwell painting, and of a time of innocence and wonder, when monsters only seemed to appear once a year and children knew deep inside that they were only ordinary people dressed up in costume.

 

 

Hayrides are still a thing in this rural area.  I haven’t been on one is decades, but I remember the thrill well.  My daddy would hitch the hay wagon to the tractor, throw some bales of straw on the back, and away we would go.  It was a favorite pastime of courting couples, always looking for an excuse to cuddle in the cold air and sneak a few kisses in the moonlight.  I expect that many a girl got her first kiss sitting on a bale of straw wrapped with her boyfriend in an old quilt.  We would return home after an hour or so to a bonfire with hot dogs and marshmallows to roast.  In later years, my daddy drove many a hayride for our local church group.  Some of them still talk about those times.  I always meant to dress up as the headless horseman and ride my horse across the field during these excursions, but somehow never got the courage to do it.  It’s probably a good thing.  My horse didn’t always share my enthusiasm for things I thought would be fun, and I would probably have ended up being the headless horseman walking home without his horse.

One year we built a haunted house.  A bunch of friends got together and decorated an old, empty house and charged people a couple of dollars to brave the mummies, ghosts, and witches we created.  We were so successful the first night, our customers kept turning around and running back out the door.  We solved that problem by sending one of our mummies to follow along behind the crowds and scare them back on the correct route.  It was a roaring success.

Another generation of citizens has come along to continue the Halloween tradition.  Another street has taken over the designation of Halloween street in Centerville and neighbors compete to see who can come up with the biggest, most outlandish display to entice youngsters to their door.  Tonight was a perfect night.  Cold enough to encourage shivers, partly from the weather and partly from nerves.  Tiny cowboys, dinosaurs, baby sharks, princesses, clowns, puppies, cows, and every other character imaginable trooped up and down the streets and around the square, shouting the same entreaty children have shouted for over one hundred years in this town.  “Trick or treat!”