As I’ve mentioned before, when I was younger, all of the Halloween decorations in my home had personalities and backstories.
Most of the decorations, in my childhood, were given spooky but silly storylines, in the vein of something you’d see in a kids’ Halloween cartoon special. My interest in horror actually didn’t pop until I was fourteen.
There was one decoration, though, that danced a fine line between silly-spooky and sinister, to me at least: A scarecrow window cling that my mother had had since before I was born.
(This is not my photo. I actually found him listed on eBay several days ago as part of a lot, the first time I’ve seen him in many years, thanks to a conversation with a friend, that, oddly enough, originated with Easter decor memories.)
He may not look so intimidating now, but something about his dead stare just got to me in my youth. He usually wound up on our main kitchen window, extended arm pointing directly at the door where trick-or-treaters would soon be knocking. I always thought it very appropriate. He definitely looked like he was presenting something; leading the way somewhere. But was he leading the trick-or-treaters to their joy, or their doom? His dead stare could never allow you to be sure. Every year I would look at him, and every year I, more and more, got the sense that he knew something I didn’t. What secrets lurked in the pumpkin patch that he watched over? Did he protect the fields, or terrorize them? Was there something he could see, off in the distance on an autumn evening, that I just couldn’t? He had to be staring at something, didn’t he? I wish I had written down all of these thoughts and visions I had as a child. There was a whole world that I could see, that went so far beyond what was actually on either side of the window. I think I’ve always been able to see full worlds when I look at most Halloween decorations, but this particular one told a story unlike any other that I’d previously dreamed up.
In hindsight, I have to wonder if this guy is the ultimate reason that a big part of my personal Halloween decor aesthetic leans toward creepy scarecrows and ominous pumpkin patches. I often collected scarecrows in my childhood, likely because they were almost always within my allowance-and-birthday-money price range, but none of them ever spoke to me in quite the same way this one did, the eerie ruler of a pumpkin patch I couldn’t quite describe, that always seemed to be watching everyone’s every move.
Is there a certain piece of decor or a childhood memory that you believe may have influenced your personal Halloween style as you grew up? I would love to know.
I’m hoping one day this scarecrow appears again for sale, as an individual listing, because I would still love to have him in my current collection.
Stay spooky, my friends.
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