Do you remember those characters that were so common in children’s media in the 80s and 90s? Those women who lived alone, or maybe with cats? Perhaps they had some sort of physical ailment or deformity that made them stand out in a not-so-great way? The ones all the neighborhood kids feared and wouldn’t so much as pass by her house alone? The one they called ‘Witch’?
I should’ve known I was destined for a spooky existence when I saw those types of characters and immediately thought, as it would be put today, “GOALS!”
In fact, my mother once told me, during some fight we were having, most likely around the time leading into my puberty, that I was so mean, that would likely be my future. Old and alone, and feared by everyone in the neighborhood. When I defiantly responded by yelling “GOOD!”, I don’t think my mother realized that I meant it. I wasn’t just trying to be a brat; I honestly found that kind of life intriguing. I’m not quite sure why, if it was solely the thought of being regarded as scary, or perhaps the luxury of being left alone by annoying children and nosy neighbors, but I always had a fondness and understanding for that type of character. Even the way the worst ones portrayed in movies or TV or books, I never actually thought badly of them, and on some level, envied them. I suppose I thought this was the only way to grow up spooky, when I was a kid.
For some reason, this all randomly popped into my head yesterday, and I started thinking about these types of people, and whether or not I’ve ever actually known any. I had to really think about it, but it turns out, I definitely did know someone who would’ve fit the bill.
When I was very young, there was a woman named Dot that lived down the street. On paper, she was almost the textbook definition of the type of character that would be deemed a witch by the neighborhood children. She was very reclusive, due to many physical ailments, mysterious, yet somehow seemed to know everything about everyone. (My mother once referred to her as the mayor of our neighborhood.) The really eerie thing was, if I looked hard enough, I could actually see one of her windows, off in the distance and through the woods, from one side of my childhood home. I could never actually make out any activity, but it was creepy in some way, knowing that light in the distance was the inside of this strange woman’s home, and wondering how much she could see (probably not much unless she had binoculars) if she happened to be looking out her window at the same time.
I only recall meeting Dot in person once. She lived across the street from a pair of twin girls that I played with sometimes (sadly not creepy twins...they honestly looked nothing alike and were different as night and day in personality) and was good friends with their mother. I remember thinking she was a little odd, but seeing how easy my friends were with her, and knowing how close she was to their mother, ultimately took that spooky intrigue away. And so, I had a neighborhood witch, but basically skipped right to the part in the story where I found out that she was just a kind but sickly, somewhat lonely widow, thus eliminating the adventures in between.
My clearest memories of Dot, of course, are related to Halloween. Because she had such a hard time moving around, she would rope off the entrance to her driveway on Halloween and hang up a big sign stating that all of her candy was at the house across the street, being distributed by the twins’ mother. Even though part of me wanted to perceive her as that neighborhood witch character, I remember thinking it was so incredibly kind of her to even get candy in the first place, when there were so many people who just turned out their lights and didn’t answer their doors. She always got quite a bit, too, and tended to include little extras, including what would become a prized possession of mine for quite some time.
One year, I think I was around seven or eight, Dot had bought skeleton keychains to give out along with her candy. They were a pretty decent size, and each one had rhinestone eyes in a different color. My skeleton’s eyes were pink, and despite still being a little freaked out by the more “horror” side of Halloween, I fell in love with the thing and desperately wanted to take it everywhere with me, but never did for fear of breaking it. Instead, I kept it safe inside of a purse I never actually used, and every so often would pull it out and just look at it, remembering the magic of Halloween and trick-or-treating. And I would always, of course, think of Dot, and her kindness and generosity despite not being able to truly celebrate Halloween.
As I remember her now, there is a part of me that wonders if perhaps she was a witch after all, and maybe had more important places to be on Halloween night, but a good witch who still wanted to spread joy to the children and maybe help them to find their spooky selves.
Did anyone else have a neighbor that would’ve fit the “neighborhood witch” description? Or did anyone else want to be that neighbor? I would love to know!
Stay spooky, my friends.
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