Skip to main content

Misfits at Halloween

In this episode - Misfits at Halloween . . .

It’s autumn, and Halloween is approaching - how do you capture the experience, the smells, the rustling sounds of multicolored falling leaves, the quiet, peaceful feeling, the solitude of life in a small town? News flash, I’m here to tell you it’s not always as tranquil as sentimental storytellers like to depict it.

Admittedly, like all agrarian communities, Cuba had its pranksters. Thankfully, though, in our small, rural farming community of the late 1960s and early 70s, I’m happy to report there was no teen violence, no gang shootings, and no serious vandalism.

Well, ok, we did torment the local policeman, who we dubbed Barney Fife (I don’t remember his name). In the fall, most families would have harvested their gardens by Halloween, but inevitably, there would be leftovers.

A group of us would hide behind Jim Welch’s garden fence on Main Street and hurl the leftover, soft, rotten tomatoes at Barney’s squad car as he patrolled the town.

For those of you who grew up or now live in a metropolitan area, patrolling our town meant cruising up and down Main Street at about 15 MPH, a remarkable distance of 0.6 of a mile.

Anyway, we were cunning. After dark, we would fill paper bags with rotten tomatoes and shower Barney’s car as he patrolled Main Street.

There were three of us, Perry, Nathan, and me.

Immediately after a tomato clobbering, we would high-tail it over fences, through backyards, to Nathan’s house, casually resting on his front porch as Barney drove up in front of the house.

With trepidation, Barney would roll his window down and ask, “What are you boys up to tonight?”

“Nothin’, Just hangin’ out.”

As soon as he pulled away, in a flash, we were back behind that fence on Main Street. And yet again, he would get pounded with rotten tomatoes.

We were stealth masters and projectile launch angle experts. Barney never caught us or even figured out it was us. The blame always went to the local high school boys who raced around town standing in the back of an old pickup truck. They were loud, obnoxious jerks. They deserved it.

Ah, yes, Halloween memories. I can’t imagine kids doing anything as docile as that today. On second thought, maybe you have a dramatic story to share?

This is Patrick Ball. Thanks for listening, see you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Anonymous said…
I remember one Halloween when 3 of us...I won't give names since our classmates might read this...set out to soap the windows on a certain house. That house belonged to Mrs. Neff. Cuba High people know who Mrs. Neff was...a substitute teacher who most of us hated. So on a Friday night we 3 went to the football game. We told our parents that anyway. Instead we went Mrs. Neff's house in darkness and soaped the windows on one side if the house. We were almost done when *BAM* the door swung open and Mr.Neff was running at us! We ran like hell and went to the football game. We were standing together talking when I saw Mr. Neff and a cop coming our way. Turns out his son in law was a State Trouper. Mr. Neff told us to give him our names. Which we did. Our parents found out about it from the Neffs who were going to turn us in to the State's Attorney! Instead our parents made us clean the Neff's windows and they let us go with a warning to never do it again. I'm sure it was embarrassing for two of our parents who had businesses. Needless to say...we never went near Neff's house again! :)
October 7, 2020 at 8:59 AM
Randy said…
I remember Perry telling me that.. LOL!
October 12, 2020 at 10:47 AM
Patrick Ball said…
Yes or no, Anonymous is Marty? I'm sure there are many more stories that have been forgotten.
October 13, 2020 at 5:24 AM
Anonymous said…
The only clue I can give you is...who did you sit by in Mr. Coleman's Algebra..or was it Geometry class? :) In other words...you guessed it. :)
October 16, 2020 at 1:34 PM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...
Post a Comment
Read more

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...
2 comments
Read more

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...
1 comment
Read more

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode,  The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...
Post a Comment
Read more