Alley Cats

Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grands

A Halloween Memory

*What did Halloween look like when you were a kid? *Did you have a favorite costume? *Who did you go Trick or Treating with? *Where did you go? 

When I was a little kid, Halloween had a suburban vibe that echoed the pre-packaged lifestyle of the day. The school classrooms and hallways were decorated with pumpkin, bat, and witchy art projects. Teachers sent the pieces home to be taped to front windows and refrigerators before the big day. Bags of lollipops and tootsie rolls lay in the pantry with severe warnings not to open before Halloween. 

Mom usually bought us a packaged costume with a plastic mask that made our faces sweat. I remember a dull Yogi bear and frightening Bozo the Clown get-up.

The best costume was the sequenced cat costume. Number Three sister, Diana, had to take ballet lesson to help straighten her pigeon-toed feet. Consequently, Sister One (me) and Sister Two (Mary) also had to join the ballet class. Not one of us showed any dance potential as per our teacher, an ancient woman who leaned on a cane as she demanded grace and balance. The only positive outcome of the ballet lessons was the green sequined costume with fluffy black tutus and kitty-cat headbands. We wore these gems for the encore recital and danced the Alley Cat on stage. That night, we bowed and happily hung up our ballet slippers. Diana’s orthopedic oxford shoes were doing a better job straightening her feet than ballet lessons.

Mom did not want to waste perfectly good and expensive costumes so the three Truglio sisters were glittery alley cats for Halloween 1965. The costume had skinny sequin straps that were too thin to hide an undershirt. A sweater under or over the bodice would ruin the look. How could we show our dance in a sweater? Mom compromised and made us wear coats. Mary continued her argument adding that no one would see our tails if we wore coats. Mom said if we didn’t wear coats, we could not go Trick or Treating. We marched out the door into a brisk Halloween afternoon with coats buttoned up our necks. 

Baby Brother (Billy) was too little to go Trick or Treating and stayed home with Mom waiting for the neighborhood Trick or Treat-ers. Sister Four (Barbara) probably wore a non-flame retardant hand-me-down Ricochet Rabbit costume and mask. Mom drew whiskers on each of cheeks with her eye liner and put pink lipstick on the tips of our noses.  

It was a cold October 31st. Armed with pillow cases as our treat bags, Mom told us to keep our coats buttoned, say thank you, hold Barbara’s hand, and DON’T eat candy! We had to eat dinner first then a treat. As we walked out the door, Mom added not to walk through puddles, don’t lose Barbara, stay on our block, and DON’T lose Barbara.  “Antoinette, you are in charge.” I was eight years old.

Before we knocked on our first neighbor’s door, Mrs. Haynes, Mary reasoned there was no sense in wearing coats. How can anyone see our costumes? She had a point and was very convincing. Mary was almost seven years old. We looked adorable in our sequin cat costumes and the coats were in the way of our adoration. We stuffed our coats in the pillowcases. I unbuttoned Barbara’s coat but made her keep it on. She didn’t argue since it was cold and she saw her three “wiser” sisters were shivering. Mrs. Haynes opened the door and before we could chant “trick or treat”, she asked me why we were outside in these skimpy clothes without our coats. 

“Your mother knows better than to send her daughters out on this  bitter night (actually mid-afternoon) without coats.” She was a large woman, always well dressed and coiffed, and was always proper and right. Mrs. Haynes made us put our coats on and scolded me over how I should take care of my sisters better and the sloppy way I buttoned Barbara’s coat. “Start from the bottom and button up to her neck.” 

Mary bravely asked her if she liked our costumes. 

“They are very nice, but you girls are pretty enough to not need such costumes.” 

“But we are pretending to be cats,” reasoned Mary, “See? We have cat ears and cat tails.”

Mrs. Haynes smiled as she dropped one Juicy Fruit gum stick into our pillowcases. We didn’t ask if she wanted to see the Alley Cat dance. 

Mary led the way back to the sidewalk as I brought up the rear holding onto Barbara’s hand.  

“It’s not that cold,” said Mary. She unbuttoned her coat and stopped to help Diana with her buttons. I nodded, freed my buttons but left Barbara bundled in her coat. 

The other neighbors were delighted to see our costumes. Most saw that we were cats. Mary embellished and said we were alley cats. No one wanted to see our dance since it was too cold to keep the door open and for us to take off our coats. We were rewarded with an apple, dimes, or a lollypop, anyway.

Through the rest of the block our feet found every leafy puddle on the sidewalk and gutter. Our shoes and tights were soaked by the time we climbed the brick front porch of the Rosenbush’s house on the corner. It was a dark red bricked house shaded by barren maple trees. It looked spooky, but the Rosenbushs were friendly neighbors and were always happy to see the Truglio girls. Most mild afternoons they would sit in their aluminum rocking chairs waving to children as they walked home from school. They knew everyone’s name. If Mom walked with us pushing the pram with the baby inside and Barbara standing on the back, Mrs. Rosenbush would scurry down the brick steps to admire my brother. 

Mrs. Rosenbush opened the front door and stepped onto the porch before we could ring the bell. She was a thin grandmotherly looking woman with two steel-gray braids crowning her head. She wore a thick knitted sweater over her housedress and a white apron over the sweater. 

“Oh, Karl—the Truglio girls! Come see.” The Rosenbushs spoke with a Yiddish lilt. I knew it was Yiddish since I asked my dad why their accent sounded different from some of my Italian aunts and uncles accents. 

Mr. Rosenbush shuffled to the door. He too wore a thick knitted sweater and a broad friendly smile. Mary said we were alley cats, except for Barbara who had stuffed her Ricochet Rabbit mask in my pillowcase after Mrs. Haynes house. 

“Ya! Ya!,” exclaimed Mrs. Rosenbush, “Such pretty costumes.”

“Do you dance?” asked Mr. Rosenbush. 

That was our cue! Mrs. Rosenbush took our coat (except for Barbara who was not an alley cat). We lined up, including Barbara (who put her mask on) since she had been practicing with us. I started the count like our sour ballet teacher. Mr. and Mrs. Rosenbush’s clapped the rhythm and sang the Alley Cat tune in “Dah-dah-dah” words. We stepped to the right, to the left, back, knee kicked then jumped and clapped. I think Diana kept her feet perfectly straight. 

“Vunderful! Vunderful!” applauded Mr. and Mrs. Rosebush. We held hands and bowed.

“Deserve a treat,” said Mrs. Rosenbush. “Karl, get cookies for the pretty kitties and bunny rabbit.” 

Mr. Rosenbush retrieved seven large linzer tart cookies each wrapped in wax paper. He gently placed one in each of my sisters’ pillowcases. He gave me the extras and said they were for Baby Brother, Mama, and Daddy. 

We chanted “Thank you! Thank you” as we put our coats on. Mrs. Rosenbush commented on how well I buttoned Barbara’s coat and took care of my sisters.

We walked straight home with Mary leading the way and me bringing up the rear holding Barbara’s hand. Night was falling and we were cold and wet and eager to eat  dinner and then a treat.  

What is your favorite Halloween memory?

Happy Halloween, Everyone!

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