The Giant Pumpkin Caper (Why I Never Liked Halloween)

Growing up, I never really got to experience Halloween. My grandfather, who basically raised me along with my mother, was a very religious man and ideas of it being a pagan holiday were constantly drilled in my head. With that said, I really can't recall ever going out trick or treatin’ or wearing a costume on October 31st, but I do have one Halloween-related story that's etched into my memory.

I must have been about 4 or 5 years old at the time when my kindergarten teacher announced that the class was going on a field trip to a nearby pumpkin patch for Halloween. Needless to say I was excited about the idea of carving out my first jack-o-lantern.

As soon as my mother came home I bombarded her with please-mommy-pleases so she could sign my permission slip for the trip. She may not have celebrated Halloween, but she signed with no problem and I was one happy camper.

On the day of the trip, my classmates and I piled on to the cheese bus and drove out to the pumpkin patch on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Once there, we were told we could pick out any pumpkin our little hearts desired and we each stormed the field looking for the most perfect one of all.

Wide eyed, I set my sights on the largest most biggest pumpkin ever. I swear it was the size of a small pig and probably weighed more than me. Matter fact, the pumpkin wound up ripping through the plastic bag the farmer gave me to carry it in. That didn't matter, though, it was mine and was coming home with me no matter what.

My grandfather, who lived across the hall from my mom and I, picked me up from school and was amazed by the size of my pumpkin. The whole ride home I told him about my trip and my plans to carve up this giant pumpkin into my very first jack-o-lantern.

When we got home, my grandpa used his spare keys to let me put my prized possession on the kitchen table in my mom’s apartment. After that I headed back across the hall to do homework and watch cartoons at my grandparent's place until my mom got off work.

The next morning I got up bright and early and smiled as I passed the pumpkin on the kitchen table. It was a Saturday morning and after watching cartoons, my mother dragged me out of the house to follow her on a few errands. The whole time I fantasized about what my jack-o-lantern would look like and couldn't wait to get started on my design.

Sadly, that wasn't in the cards for me.

When my mother and I returned from the store, I walked into the kitchen and noticed something was missing. My giant pumpkin was nowhere to be found.

"Mommy," I said, frantically. "What happened to my pumpkin?"

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head.

"Did you move it?"

"No, it was right there on the table when we left this morning."

Distraught, I looked under the table and any other possible place it could have been, but no luck. I had been pumpkin-napped.

“We’ve been robbed,” I cried out.

“No, we weren’t,” my mother assured me. “Who would break into a house and just steal a pumpkin?”

It sounds quite silly now, but at 5 years old that had to be the only answer. Some jack-o-lantern jackers must’ve broken in and stole my pumpkin because it was the bestest pumpkin ever. I was sure of it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll get you another pumpkin.”

“I don’t want another pumpkin,” I wined. “I want my pumpkin.”

“Well, it couldn’t have just gotten up and walked out of here. I’m sure it will turn up.”

I mopped around for the rest of the afternoon until we headed across the hall for dinner at my grandparent’s place. I forget what we had for dinner but I’m sure it was good.

After my grandmother cleared the table, she asked if anyone was up for dessert. A 5-year-old is always up for dessert so of course I raised my hand and said, “Yes, please.”

A few moments later my grandmother emerged from the kitchen with pie and ice cream. She cut me a slice and topped it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I greedily dug in but was unfamiliar with this dessert. It wasn’t bad; it was just different. The only pie I knew was apple pie and that’s not what this auburn colored confection was.

“What kinda pie is this, grandma,” I asked, inquisitively.

“It’s pumpkin pie, sweetie,” she replied, nonchalantly.

“Pumpkin!” I said, dropping my fork on the plate.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

“Where did you get the pumpkin from?”

“Oh, I found this big pumpkin sitting on your mother’s kitchen table and thought it’d make a great pie.”

“That was my pumpkin,” I shrieked. “I was gonna make a jack-o-lantern with it.”

My grandmother begged my forgiveness but it fell on deaf ears. She had stolen my precious pumpkin and then made me eat it.

“Is there any left,” I asked.

“No, it’s all gone,” she replied.

I was too distraught to finish eating and I never got to make my first jack-o-lantern.

Fin!

Did your parent(s) let you dress up for Halloween? Or did you hear that it was a pagan holiday, too? If you did dress up for Halloween, what was your bestest costume ever? Do you still dress up now or do you find the whole thing to be a bit silly? What’s your favorite Halloween candy? Did you ever get egged or do the egging around Halloween time? Do you think that all the mischief that happens on Halloween takes away from fun of it now? Were you ever scared to go to school on Halloween because of rumors about gang initiations or kids robbing people? What’s your most memorable Halloween moment? What are you going to be for Halloween? Was I being a spoiled little brat about my pumpkin?

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VIDEO BONUS: Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin