Beet harvest is in full swing and, between trucks and deer, it’s a dangerous deal for drivers out here in the Panhandle. Going to town the other day, I noted several sugar beets on the road and was reminded of a time when I, along with some other fools, put one in the bed of a retreat leader who somehow deduced the names of the culprits and shortsheeted our beds in return. We were all old enough to have put childish tricks behind us, but after all, it was a late October weekend.
What is it about humans that makes us pull silly pranks, even if it means we will experience retribution? I remember classmates putting a tack on the teacher’s chair, a snake in her desk, and soaping her car windows. They always got caught, because there were one or two notorious troublemakers, and it was a simple process of elimination. Besides, the one who soaped windows wasn’t smart enough to disguise his handwriting.
In high school, we put iced tea in a whisky flask and hid it in the locker of someone who deserved to get caught; put Ex-Lax in a pan of brownies for the teachers who always ate our home economics desserts after school so we’d have to re-do the project. Somebodies, (not me) put chickens in the schoolhouse an old car on the roof.
Halloween pranks in the little village where I went to school were mostly soaped windows, and an outhouse or two overturned. Easily remedied, and pretty much expected. Not too many kids went out trick or treating. Little ones sometimes, just at dusk, and accompanied by parents. Masks, but no costumes.
My only trick or treat venture happened in Omaha when I was five, while visiting my mother’s parents. Grandpa was big on fun stuff. He bought me a mask, which I hated wearing, but wore anyway because I loved Grandpa and didn’t want to spoil his fun. We went around the neighborhood for a couple of blocks, with Grandpa encouraging me to go knock on doors while he hung back in the shadows. I was a shy kid, and particularly intimidated by other groups of kids who knocked boldly and giggled loudly. I suppose we came home with a bag of candy, but I never cared much for candy so I urged the adults to share.
When my kids were little, we made costumes, and one parent drove them around to nearby ranches while the other stayed to hand out treats. Brownlee was still sort of a village then, so there were several homes to visit and one fella who took pride in scaring the kids who knocked. One year, the teachers fixed up a haunted house at an abandoned ranch, but activities were pretty mild; treats adequate, but not overflowing.
I made up for losing out on childhood pranks as an adult, putting snakes in our outhouse, (yes, we had one until I was nearly grown) string in a hired man’s pancakes, turtles in rural mailboxes, and shortsheeting bunkhouse beds. Even drove through a wire gate that my children’s father shut in front of me, all the while grinning madly, and sure I’d have to get out and open it.
I’m too old for all that now, but then I’ve thought that before. My husband trusts me to act appropriately. I hope I don’t disappoint him.