Life in Progress: A weblog by Heidi Price

Halloween in Stringtown

I love the way they do Halloween on the street where my grandma lives.

Her Greene County farm sits on a lane with plenty of field between each farm house. It would be a hike for any trick-or-treater and there are no sidewalks to keep them safe from the pickup trucks that fly up and down the winding road.

A few years back, the inhabitants of her lane devised a plan. Typically on the Saturday before Halloween, everyone meets at Tuna's place, just over the hill from my grandma's farm. All the children and parents load up on the flatbed of Tuna's tractor and they ride from farmhouse to farmhouse.

It's easy on the residents too.
The tractor arrives, the kids run up to the farmhouse door, spend a few minutes visiting with a neighbor who gives them their candy and then they leave. And that's it.

I've only been fortunate enough to participate in these festivities once, a few years ago when I accompanied my niece. After the tractor ride, everyone returned to Tuna's place for a Halloween party. There was a bon fire, tons of grilled meat and plenty of beer.

So I felt terrible when, driving to my grandma's farm on Saturday, the day of this year's planned festivities, it started to rain. Still, sometime around 5:30 p.m., Peewee, a neighbor who works on my grandma's farm, called to say they would be coming up the road in a few minutes. Peewee can't be much older than 20 and I know he called because he was worried about my grandma, who is 86, standing outside in the rain.

We ran outside to the front porch with the bags of candy and potato chips my grandma had ready. Even though it was still drizzling, the kids jumped off the tractor bed and came running up my grandma's lane followed by their parents.

It was then that the heavens opened and it started to pour. Everyone ran back to the tractor and they headed back to Tuna's to wait out the storm. As I drove past a few minutes later on my way home, I saw Tuna pulling a tarp over the tractor bed.

A few minutes later, I rounded a bend to go through a stretch we call Bambi's Woods. I passed a pickup truck where a couple sat inside a pickup truck that looked abandoned, waiting to scare the kids.


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