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| Three ones and one two |
VR and I live like hermits. We don’t get out; new acquaintances are rare to non-existent; significant conversations are via Skype rather than face to face. Blame illness and the inertia of old age.
Yesterday this routine was shattered – charmingly.
I was considering a problem in the upper-floor lighting circuit and the door-bell rang. Outside were two ten-ish children, boy and girl, friendly, animated, even well-dressed. I said haltingly, “This is to do with… er…um… Halloween?”
They pointed to a sign I’d put over my bell-push. “We are deaf. Please use the bell.” Most neighbours were showing Halloween non-participation statements and I’ve usually done it myself. This year I forgot; my sign had seemed encouraging.
I said, “Trouble is I’ve got no cash.” Smiling they shook their heads. No cash. I reminisced. In my UK youth Halloween (Guy Fawkes Night then) was preceded by Mischief Night. Tricks on neighbours. Writing on car windscreens with candles. Unhooking a garden gate and hanging it on a lamppost. My two visitors listened attentively.
Then I recalled Halloween in the US. “I don’t even have any sweets.” But they weren’t fazed. “That’s all right,” they said cheerfully. I rambled on; they were so agreeable, those kids. Then a thought. I returned with a bag of VR’s fruit pastilles. The kids seemed overwhelmed, reluctant to take the bag. Finally it was over.
Again the door-bell. Same two kids, same smiles, each holding something small. Money! Thrusting six pounds ($7.11) at me. “What for?” I asked, flabbergasted. “It was a whole bag,” they said. “It’s all the wrong way round,” I said.
I tried to refuse, how I tried. Laughing they insisted. Eventually the girl reached past me and put the coins on the hall table. Bid me goodbye
And there the cash still lies.
That is such a great Halloween story. I read it out loud to Roger. We both enjoyed it so much. Your Halloween treat was sweet in every way. (NewRobin13)
ReplyDeleteNewRobin13: Not just sweet. Unexpected, unexplained and ultimately unexplainable. Though Rachel Phillips (see below) has a theory.
DeleteIn the vernacular of present day youth (and almost everybody else) "amazing." Similarly my heart is warmed when encountering parties of Duke of Edinburgh's Award kids cheerfully making the best of plodding through the rain with heavy rucksacks.
ReplyDeleteI hope you don't give in too much and welcome the Jehova's Witnesses in, although son W used to do that with his mates just for entertainment.
Sir Hugh: Not as prevalent as "incredible". I doubt that the JevWits are likely to call ever again. The last time - about ten years ago - I answered the door in a very bad temper due to some other reverse in life. I addressed them over my shoulder as I opened the garage door. Asking how was it that the most powerful being in the universe couldn't think of a less sickening event as representative of the religion he had recently launched. Frankly, it made my gorge rise. The older of the pair made two or three attempts to answer me but wasn't able to finish his sentences. I drove away not so much as in a car but in a high dudgeon.
DeleteMum probably took one look and said they had to pay you, or they told mum you looked rather poor and could they have some money to give you.
ReplyDeleteRachel Phillips: I did say although I was "comfortably off" ( a middle-class locution I'm especially fond of) I couldn't lay my hands on much in the way of specie. Yes, since I rarely change my clothes, I may have looked poverty-stricken but it's more likely they reported me as hardly capable of keeping body and soul together. However, while working in the USA I was accused - more than once - of being a panhandler.
ReplyDeleteTotally charming incident. We had 3 trick or treaters---it snowed (first of the year) and then dropped to our 20 degrees, which is hideous for the season. I think it was 80 last week. Now the trees will dump all their leaves at once. Yikes. Such is the lovely midwest. Sandi
ReplyDeleteSandi: Certain comparatively restricted locations are said to have their own micro-climate (ie, differing from that of the surrounding area). In Chicago's case a more appropriate prefix would be "macro-". Also "windy" admits to only one of its meteorological failings.
ReplyDeleteWell that is a sweet story! I bet you made an impression on those girls. I tend to agree with Rachel on this one.
ReplyDeleteApart from the utter reversal of events in the story, quite inexplicable, even amazing and incredible, I am left in admiration of your smashing hall table, topped with a power bar no less, a device without which a home no longer functions. The kids will have a great tale to tell their friends of the repentant curmudgeon - a true apparition of Halloween!
ReplyDeleteDMG: The table was made by my great-grandfather who did this sort of thing as a hobby. I'd call your "power bar" a "four-socket extension lead". Curmudgeon yes, but not exactly repentant. Baffled throughout better describes my state of mind.
DeleteDMG: The table was made by my great-grandfather who did this sort of thing as a hobby. For "power bar" read "four-socket extension lead" in the UK. Hardly repentant, more like baffled.
DeleteWe, too, used to put a notice on the door "no trick or treat". But I have purposely stopped this since my wife died as, living alone I welcome such visits these days. They are usually polite young children and have usually made the effort to disguise themselves as Hallowe'en characters.
ReplyDeleteI bought a large box of varied chocolates this year and left the outside door light on. (shades of the wicked witch in the gingerbread house). A number of calls were made by kids, usually accompanied by parents in the back ground and of a primary school age.
One small girl came to the door alone but her father, walking the dog was on the main pathway keeping an eye on her. She thanked my prettily and made off. Almost immediately the doorbell rang again. She had obviously been back and encouraged an older sister to call too, This child was dressed in full Hallowe'en fig but stood quietly and refused to look at me, I encouraged her to take a handful but she turned her back on me and beckoned frantically to her younger sibling. I thought she might be deaf, but her father shouted encouragement from the pavement. She was obviously painfully shy and her parents were encouraging her to mix in.
She turned to me and I said if she wanted the sweets she must take them herself. She did, without a word and turned to run to her dad who waved and shouted his thanks.
I cannot cap your charming reversal story, but this was a new oddity to me - a child who had made the effort to full disguise but was being almost led round by a younger sibling to join in her fun.
Avus: I rather thought shyness had gone out of fashion. It hardly seems to characterise twenty-first century youth. One trusts she will be able to grow out of it; hardly an asset.
ReplyDeleteFaith in human nature is restored by such acts.
ReplyDelete