Roger Pires Oct 29, 2009
When he's not offering his take on daily life, Roger Pires spends his days as a computer systems analyst. It's not exactly a glamorous calling but hey, it pays the bills. He enjoys hockey, canoeing, snowshoeing, and spending as much time as he possibly can outdoors. He lives in Udora with his wife and two kids, who are his prime inspiration for Ravenshoe Ramblings.
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The Great Pumpkin
We’ve finally found it, Charlie Brown. The Great Pumpkin.
Those of a certain vintage will know what I’m talking about. Shortly after the chuck wagon ceased to be the principal mode of family transportation, kids tuned in every Hallowe’en to watch, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” In this old classic, the Peanuts gang search for the patron saint of trick-or-treating. The elusive spirit is supposedly embodied by a giant pumpkin that lurks somewhere among the rows of orange gourds. They never find it and are left to contemplate the meaning of life in its absence. “Chuck” and Linus were to Hallowe’en what Rudolph and Kris Kringle are to Christmas.
My kids, on the other hand, have only cursory knowledge of this ancient tradition. They roll their eyes whenever I mention Charlie Brown or great pumpkins. Peanuts, they inform me, come in a shell or a chocolate coating. My attempts at enlightenment and imparting culture have turned me into a museum piece in their eyes. You might as well enclose me in a glass case and stick a sign on it that says “Dadosaurus Rex.”
The little ingrates have started talking about me amongst themselves while I’m still in the room. You know like, “I think he’s losing it.” Or, “Check the medicine cabinet. Has he had his dosage today?” My chances of becoming a Renaissance dad would further implode if I tried to play the actual cartoon for them. The old classics can’t compete with the new graphics. Unless Charlie Brown can transform himself into a six-story titanium robot, Peanuts will remain a topping for sundaes.
Well, call me Virginia but there really is a Santa Claus. At least some traditions have escaped the tentacles of Optimus Prime and his metallic brethren. On a crisp, sunny afternoon it is still popular for a family of four to go pumpkin hunting along rural back roads. So this old relic loaded up the missus and the urchins into the minivan and we went searching for future jack-o-lanterns. We passed fields of pick-your-owns and wagons overflowing with orange gourds. The method for selecting a pumpkin remains more folklore than science. There’s no “Pumpkins for Dummies” to tell you what constitutes a suitable candidate. You just know it when you see it. After combing the greater Uxbridge area we still hadn’t found “the one”. Mrs. Relic suggested that maybe our primordial compass was pointing us toward the bin in front of Canadian Tire. So, we turned back onto Durham Road One and headed for town.
That’s when we found it.
Shortly after rounding the bend, we passed an old wagon in the suburbs of Leaskdale. Laying on the ground - more airplane hangar than squash - was The Great Pumpkin. We parked the van and our little clan got out to gaze up at this natural marvel. Our lower jaws hitting the ground measured a 6 on the Richter scale. What titanic forces had been unleashed to create this gargantuan gourd? And the pride of Chernobyl Farms was still tinged with green! If it hadn’t been plucked from the vine in its youth, it may have ended up with its own area code.
Transforming this beast from pumpkin to jack-o-lantern would be an adventure. Loading it into the van could be impossible. We thought about calling in the troops. Since our armed forces were otherwise engaged, we rolled up sleeves and sucked in guts and gave it the family heave-ho. We managed to deliver the payload with minimal damage to it and ourselves. Nothing a manicurist or a good chiropractor couldn’t fix.
All that’s left now is the carving. Many ideas for decoration have been brought forward: inscribing the first couple of chapters of the New Testament on the front; maybe blueprints for an addition to the house on the back; handing out candy from lawn chairs set up inside it. Or perhaps we’ll just leave it as is. The Great Pumpkin needs no other adornment. Once Hallowe’en is over, we can always use it as an extra bay for the garage.
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There’s another tradition that I think is worth celebrating. Those of you trick-or-treating in the Udora area may want to drop by the Community Centre for hot dogs and hot chocolate – courtesy of the Udora Lions. Once the kids have topped up their pillow cases with enough candy to rot the bricks on the Great Wall of China, take them down to the hall for a tube steak and to say “Hi”. The big night falls on a Saturday this year so it’d be the perfect time to hang out with old friends and new neighbours. It’s either that or run home to watch the Leafs. I thought so. See you at the hall!
