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A HALLOWEEN TRICK - AND A PAINFUL LESSON LEARNED A
Memory by Mildred Filbrun Heck |
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Ohio farmers in the
1920s still cut their fields of corn by hand.
They tied the stalks of corn into bundles with strong binder twine.
Then the bottom of each bundle was fanned out so it would stand up
firmly on the ground. About
14 to 20 bundles were stacked upright and closely together to make a
circular corn shock. In the
early winter months farmers would go into their fields and hand-husk –
or shuck - the ears of corn from each stalk and toss the ears into a
wagon.
The
setting for this particular Halloween trick was just such a field of
newly-shocked corn belonging to Jessie Booher, a neighbor who owned a farm
on the lonely old Wildcat Road in Wayne Township (now Huber Heights) in
Montgomery County, Ohio. It
was the custom at Halloween time in the 1920s for the teenage farm boys
(and a few girls) to roam their rural neighborhood at night and play
tricks. They might remove a
farm gate from its post, tip over an outhouse or pull a farm wagon by hand
to the next farmer’s yard. It
was quite a feather in the caps of the boys who accomplished the most
unusual and difficult trick without being caught.
It was all tricks then at Halloween
– treats were considered tame ‘fun’. My
brother, Bob, was two years older than I was so he was allowed to go on
such outings. I was only 11
on this particular Halloween, but I begged to go along.
Bob said I was too young, but then I overheard him and some other
boys planning a new trick of pulling a spring wagon onto a low-roofed barn
at the Booher farm. I told Bob I would tell what they were up to if he didn’t
let me come. He had no choice
but to let me tag along. On
Halloween night, we took off in two Model T Fords packed full of boys and
two older girls – and me. The
cars were parked as quietly as a bunch of teenagers could manage on the
narrow gravel road beside Jessie Booher’s big field of shocked corn.
Bob got even with me then for spying on the boys’ planning
meeting by telling me I was too little to go to the barn with them.
I was to stay by the cars and be their lookout. I
was really angry about missing all the fun of putting a new trick over on
Mr. Booher. So I decided to
play my own Halloween prank. I
ran from corn shock to corn shock, pulling each one apart and throwing the
bundles on the frost-covered ground.
The boys were gone a long while giving me plenty of time to pull
apart all of the shocks near the road.
When the boys returned, they were in such a hurry and so elated
about pulling the wagon to the peak of the barn roof that they never
noticed what fun I had been having. The
next morning the school bus driven by our father took its usual route down
Wildcat Road and past the Booher farm.
The older boys were happily pointing to the wagon perched on the
very ridge of the Booher’s distant barn roof.
They were feeling pretty smug about the success of their newest
trick. My
father brought the bus to a sudden stop, not because of the wagon on the
barn but because he had seen all those corn shocks scattered about.
He asked the older boys if they had torn them apart or knew who had
done it. No one knew.
That night at supper Dad asked Bob again if he had any part in that
mess in Booher’s corn field. What
a hardship repairing the damage would be for Mr. Booher who was
handicapped with rheumatism, our father said. |
Bob finally told our folks that he had helped pull the wagon onto the Booher barn roof and that I should know who did the damage in the corn field for he had made me stay by the road with the cars. He added sheepishly that he and the other boys planned to get the
wagon down after school the next day.
Meanwhile, I sat silently and dumb. I
finally admitted that I was so angry at being left out of the Halloween
fun that I got busy and made my own fun.
Dad said, “Fun? Fun?
You think that was FUN? We’ll
see about that!” Nothing
more was said that night. The next morning well before school, Dad handed me a sandwich in a paper bag and told me to get into my oldest coat and my galoshes, to put a warm pull cap on my head and hunt up a pair of heavy canvas gloves. Dad drove me to the Booher farm; back a long, long lane. He
told Mr. Booher, “This is the my daughter and she is going to reshock
all the corn bundles that she tore down – and with no help from
anyone.” Then
he dropped me off at the field beside the road, saying, “Get to work and
have some more ‘fun’.” I
looked at the awful mess I had made and wondered how on earth I could ever
have thought I was having fun that Halloween night.
Since I had helped to shock corn many times at home I knew what to
do. I had just gotten a good
start when the school bus came down the road.
Bob had already told everyone to watch for me working in the
cornfield so the kids were yelling and shouting derisively as soon as the
field was in sight. That made
my embarrassment and humiliation complete. I
learned quickly that it was going to be much harder work and take much
longer to set up those damn shocks of corn that it had been to tear them
down. The cold night frost
had made the bundles heavy and stiff.
The day was cold and dark. I
had never done so much work completely alone before.
I kept thinking that surely Dad would come to help me for he must
know that by afternoon I was aching something awful.
When I saw Mr. Booher walking towards me, I was afraid he was
coming to inspect my work. But
he brought me a fruit jar of hot, sweet tea and some oatmeal cookies. As good as they tasted, his kindness somehow only added to my
humiliation. As
the afternoon wore on I sensed when it was time for the school bus to
bring the kids home. As soon
as I saw the bus coming, I hid behind one of my corn shocks.
The kids in the bus yelled and laughed anyway since they saw
bundles still on the ground. They
knew I must be in hiding somewhere nearby. The
next day was Saturday. My
muscles were sore, my hands were full of blisters and my pride was
wounded. But I was hauled
right back to that field to finish the job.
Now, let me tell you, from that time on I have had the greatest
respect for the hard work that farmers put into every field of corn –
from plowing, planting and harvesting and, especially, shocking the corn. Do I need to say that I never went on another Halloween tricking spree? I can well remember the lesson my father taught me about humility and about destroying other peoples’ property. And I can still remember the blisters and sore muscles that taught me such a painful lesson one Halloween long ago.
- This story has been edited by Mrs. Heck’s brother, William S. Filbrun - |
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