Haystacks and Scarecrows Made My Youth Worth Living
Halloween is just around the bend
In a few short weeks it will be Halloween. I am not going into the debate if Halloween is for the Devil or just an innocent holiday aimed at kids collecting candy in a national tradition called Trick or Treat. I do not have time to “open that can of worms,” when it is not necessary.
When I was a kid I dreamed of one day being able to play around (and inside) of a haystack. Not hay bales, but loosely-stacked hay somewhere in a barnyard where I wouldn’t be hurting anyone. Then my dream expanded to including a good old-fashioned scarecrow—homemade, not that perfect, and just right to be my buddy.
My dream is still alive
Those days never came. And now I am a man of 60, and I still have this childhood dream of allowing my imagination run wild and go where it will take me with my haystack and my scarecrow. You cannot beat these two traditional-items for passing the hours of a warm fall day when the leaves are turning colors and you have some time on your hands.
My scarecrow’s name would be “Max,” to honor my pet Siamese who was killed when I was 19. I do not know any names for haystacks. Sorry to everyone who love these items as much as I do.
Here, in honor of the fall season, and 10-year-old’s everywhere, here is my piece entitled:
Haystacks and Scarecrows Made My Life Worth Living
- Use the haystack as my haven to keep monsters from eating me alive. Did you not know that covers on a bed and inside a haystack are perfect for fending off horrible monsters?
- Taking a long nap inside my haystack. Take my word for it. I know naps. And inside a warm and quiet haystack is the perfect place for a nap. Now who would think of looking for me inside a haystack?
- Imagining that “Max,” is my bodyguard and positioning him beside my haystack that I imagine is a castle. Or . . .
- Imagining that “Max,” is a fire-breathing dragon about to attack my impenetrable haystack that is still my castle.
- Talking to someone passing by my haystack and watch the fear surface on their faces from not knowing where this voice is coming from.
- “Max,” could be my Marine drill instructor and he could train me to be a man who fears no man or beast.
- Inside a haystack is a perfect place to dine on coconut haystacks, a Christmas cookie treat. Of course I would share them with “Max,” who taught me the virtue of sharing.
- Oh, I guess if I were in a good mood, I would take whatever pet I had at this time into my “secret hideout,” my haystack to spend some time with “Max,” and myself.
- Read “Max,” my favorite poem, “The Raggedy Man,” by James Whitcomb Riley.
And if evening shadows catch me fast asleep, “Max,” would kindly take me to my house and lay me in mama’s sewing room so’s she won’t weep.