Pumpkin patches and more

 I remember walking through a pumpkin patch that seemed to go on forever.  Odd-shaped gourds destined to sit on a porch with carved-out faces, often from the imaginations of children. I recall drawing the face with a crayon, then Dad taking charge of the knife and carving it exactly the way I drew it. Mom would soak the seeds in saltwater, then bake them to a golden brown, and my sisters and I ate them until our lips were parched. On Halloween night, the candles were lit, and the ghoul-ish faces came to life as another memory was added to my childhood book of smiles. It was always a little sad to see the once mighty pumpkin reduced to mush and discarded. Still, I only had to wait another year for a trip to the pumpkin patch, when I'd search row after row for that perfect pumpkin whose face I would color in crayon. Dad said maybe next year, but not today, as he took the knife and began carving upside-down triangles and jagged teeth sure to scare even the bravest kid. I never liked the day after, when pumpkins sat atop trash cans, deformed and scorched by the candle's flame, looking like defeated soldiers on a battlefield. But on the upside, we had pillowcases full of candy that my sisters and I would trade for Kit Kats, Snickers, pieces of Double Bubble gum, and more. Our thoughts of Thanksgiving and the grand daddy of all Christmas were on our minds. It was fun being a kid back then, when boxes filled the shelves in the attic, each marked for the occasion, filled with costumes to be handed down and paper turkeys cut out using your hand as a template. Box after box of Christmas decorations, filled with ornaments handed down from generation to generation, and dozens of handmade ornaments made by the kids that were hung on the tree every year. But the most important boxes contained hundreds of strings of colored lights Dad would spend hours untangling, swearing this was the last year he'd do it. But there he was, up on a ladder turning our house into a winter wonderland like he's been doing since I can remember.

I count my blessings for the childhood years I shared with my family, and over the years I've found myself doing the same things for my children and grandkids. We've even started our own traditions, like sitting around a campfire on Christmas Eve, drinking hot chocolate, and singing holiday songs. We invite neighbors over to share in our bounty, and every kid exchanges small homemade gifts with one another. We still visit that pumpkin patch where we let the grandkids run from row to row in search of the perfect pumpkin to draw faces on with a crayon, and I finally get the honor of using the knife to carve exactly what they drew, no matter how they looked.

Mike  2026