The Pumpkin Man
Written by Chris Zeid
Newspaper. Dad always used newspaper for the stuffing. Once October 1st hit, he’d collect newspaper everywhere he went, from the grocery store to the drug store or even sometimes from those things on the side of the street that always held the current weeks paper or magazine. The name of them seems to escape me at the moment. But he’d start his collection at the beginning of the month in preparation for the eve of Halloween; the day The Pumpkin Man would come to life. Some years he’d find a new hat for him to wear, but for the most part it was old clothes he had found from a bygone era. And of course, there was the carved pumpkin that would make his face. That we would get from the local pumpkin patch at some point early in the month, and we’d keep the pumpkin uncarved sitting at the front porch until the day it was time. I’d come home in the evening’s after school to see the pumpkin on the porch and fill up with excitement and anticipation for the night he would be made.
On Halloween Eve, we’d start The Pumpkin Man right after dinner. Unable to contain my giddy self, I’d scarf my meal down as fast I could despite knowing that Dad had to finish eating himself, and he loved sharing dinner with Mom and me. He wouldn’t rush it. I’d always end up watching them eat their meal together begging Dad to hurry up so we could get started. I had a pure elation that comes from knowing nothing of the world except the current moments being lived—a gift that only a child has. Really, it’s something I think of at times and try to figure out how I can get back there in some iteration.
Eventually and after the excruciating long wait time, the meal would be over.
“You ready?” he’d say knowing full well that was a dumb question, but that it would amp up the fun.
A large grin would cover my face, and I’d nod. “I’ve been waiting for forever, Dad!”
My parents would laugh and then Dad would give Mom a kiss, which he would always do anytime the two parted if even for an hour or two. He’d turn and look at me with a great big smile. “Let’s do it. Don’t forget to make your wish on our way up to the attic, son.”
The first Halloween when we made The Pumpkin Man, Dad let me in on a little secret. The Pumpkin Man was allowed to grant one wish every Halloween to its makers, but we weren’t allowed to tell each other our wish or else it wouldn’t come true. This was always one of my favorite parts and as a child, my wish usually revolved around getting lots of candy on Halloween night or getting an opportunity to scare old lady Dora next door with my costume from that year.
We’d open the attic door and unfold the creaky wooden steps that fell to the floor. I always loved being up in the attic. There was something otherworldly about it. It felt like its own separate part of the house that didn’t really exist since I barely saw it. Adding to that effect it was dim, and the air always felt still. Up in the attic, I’d look around at the things my parents had stored from previous years. It was nostalgic to see old toys or items that existed once upon a time but now had been retired. Or maybe I’d see decorations from different holidays, and there was a marvel to it from past memories or the joy of memories to come.
In the attic, Dad would scan through a set of boxes until he found the one he was looking for. The one that had the items which would create The Pumpkin Man. He’d find the box and soon we’d be outside at the front porch. On our way out I’d grab a lawn chair from the backyard, because The Pumpkin Man needed a place to sit while he stood outside our house. Dad would grab the newspaper he’d been collecting all month, and we’d be all set to put him together!
During this time of year, the weather was always perfect. It was cold, but not freezing with a nice breeze usually in the air which would grace your cheeks when it blew. The leaves were falling now and changing color creating a magical scene outside as we created The Pumpkin Man. I think fall has and always will be my favorite season of the year. It’s the start of nice weather and the lead into the best holidays.
Dad would open up the years old cardboard box, which at this point always had an old smell, and take out The Pumpkin Man’s parts. There was a pair of black boots, dusty torn blue jeans, a light cream-colored button up, some charcoal wool gloves, and a collection of hats. This year he’d be wearing the new black fedora Dad had found from a thrift store a few months back. It even had a silver feather tucked into the right side. Dad would start crumpling up wads of newspaper and hand them to me as I stuffed in the pair of jeans. I still remember when he first asked me if I wanted to do the stuffing or the readying. I’d said stuffing and it had stuck that way since. Once the legs had been created, we’d set them in the lawn chair and make sure boots were connected at the bottom to give him feet. We’d then do the same thing with his torso and hands. Once we were done, we’d have a full body without a head sitting on a chair. A creepy Halloween sight that was sure to scare some kids, myself excluded of course, but he needed his head, and it was now time to carve it!
Before we’d head in, Dad would always make the same silly joke. He’d say, “We’ll be right back with your head, Sir. Don’t go thinking we’ve forgot about ya.”
I’d laugh and tell him he can’t think without his head!
In the kitchen Dad would cut out the top of the pumpkin leaving the scooping for me. I’d always get a kick out of scooping out the insides. It felt like I was scooping his messy brains out. I’d clean out the pumpkin goop and set aside the seeds in a bowl for Mom. She’d bake them for us, and they’d be ready to eat as soon as we finished. The taste and smell of toasted pumpkin seeds will always remind me of Halloween.
Dad was a great artist, so I’d leave the carving to him. Every year before he’d get started, he’d ask me if I wanted it funny or scary. The older I became, the more I wanted it as terrifying as possible. This year would be no exception. He’d draw out the face with a black sharpie to guide him on where to cut. During this time, the two of us would open up a tasty drink. Dad always went for a beer, and I’d grab myself a sugary soda. I’d always ask for a beer first, though, because I wanted to drink the same thing Dad was drinking. I knew he’d say no, but there was a sliver of hope inside me that always thought maybe he’d say yes this time. The drawing and carving usually took a good half hour or so, and we’d just talk. Things like how I was doing, how school was going, what my newest interests might be, or how I wanted a certain part of the face to look. This year the face had rows of razor-sharp teeth, and we had parts of the insides dangle down the mouth to create the illusion of pieces of skin and guts—the victims of The Pumpkin Man. The nose was just your traditional triangle and the eyes were vertical long thin slits. We wrapped up his look by splashing some fake blood against his face. We’d set it on the headless body and finish him up by placing his hat on which Dad always let me do. He knew I loved adding that final touch.
We’d take a step back and look upon our creation. In that moment, I’d always ask him what he wished for and his response would be by asking me the same. I would say that I didn’t want to tell him, because I wanted mine to come true. He’d just smile after I said that and then we’d go inside to enjoy The Pumpkin Man’s toasted pumpkin seeds.
As I grew older, I grew out of The Pumpkin Man and Dad and I found other ways to spend time together. It wasn’t until I was much older and had a child of my own that I revisited that old fellow again. You see, Dad died when my wife was pregnant with our first child, a beautiful baby girl. After he passed, I’d found that he’d left me a cardboard box with a letter taped to the side that had my name on it. I took the letter off the box and opened the orange envelope.
Dear Son,
Many years have gone by since we used to get together every Halloween and put together The Pumpkin Man, but there has never been a Halloween where I didn’t think about it. We may have found ways to spend time together after you grew out of him, but he was the catalyst for us bonding with one another. Now that I’m gone, I can let you in on my wish. It was the same every year. I always wished to spend some time with my son and get to know him better. It came true every year.
You’ll have a little kiddo of your own soon, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to see her grow up. I know that you will make a great dad, and I wanted to pass on something, this time from beyond the grave. Haha. I’m so grateful for the relationship we were able to build together, son. Don’t ever forget that it’s the moments we spend with our loved ones that matter the most.
Loving You from The Beyond,
Dad
I opened the box to find the parts that created The Pumpkin Man, and all those wonderful memories flooded in. I swear that I felt Dad’s presence that day and even though it wasn’t Halloween, I found myself putting The Pumpkin Man together. It was too early in the year for pumpkins, so I took out a box of our Halloween decorations from the garage to find one of our plastic ones. After I put him together, I took a step back and looked at him for a long time. Through all my running emotions, I realized I had forgotten to make a wish. It didn’t matter, though, because the wish I would have asked had come true.
