“All Hallow’s Eve” is dropped into the month of October on the very last day.
November 1 is a religious holiday that is better known as “All Saints Day.” This day is when Christian saints and martyrs are honored, or hallowed. Therefore, All Hallow’s Eve is the evening before. Some trace the origins back to the Irish Shamhain where it marked the end of summer and the beginning of winter. On this ancient Celtic holiday, some people dressed as fairies, ghosts, witches, skeletons and evil creatures acting out pranks in exchange for food and drink. Refreshments were offered to oblige the spirits; thus, “Trick or Treating” began.
I know that during my younger years and of easily believing all that was told to me about this eerie holiday, I have literally been scared senseless. One time in particular comes to mind. My “Big Daddy” on my Daddy’s side lived in a pre-civil war home in the country close to Scoobachita Creek, the old Strain house, a beautiful plantation home in its days of beauty.
It had been somewhat neglected throughout the years; the plaster was dropping and the large white columns at the front were tilting. In its glory days, it stood as a magnificent structure built on the Greek revival house plan. We were told that this old home had burned during the Civil War and one of the residents, the daughter’s husband, had burned to death. The daughter, Lucinda, walked the floors crying out for her lost love. The second floor of this big house opened its middle double doors onto a small portico. The story goes that every Halloween at midnight, Lucinda would open the doors and walk out crying and whispering her husband’s name. One Halloween my cousin and I decided we would see this ghostly vision for ourselves. A few minutes before the witching hour we took our vigil underneath the old cottonwood trees rising in the front yard. At exactly midnight, the portico doors flew open with a big gust of wind. We stayed perfectly quiet even as our hearts beat to the rhythm of Indian war drums.
We did not see a thing, but in a few seconds the wind began to blow harder and we could hear what we thought were the soft cries of a woman’s voice drifting through the wind. We stood very still; actually, we were too scared to move. The soft sound resonated for several seconds and then the doors slammed shut. We saw no ghostlike figure, but we were positive that we heard the faint cries. Now we all know that sometimes the wind can cause strange sounds. I am still not sure of what we heard that night, but it was sad to believe that she would still be looking for her sweetheart after so many years.
Ghost Pumpkin Pie – 4 beaten eggs, 3 cups of baked, skinned and pureed white ghost pumpkin, 1 cup sugar, 2 teaspoons cinnamon, l teaspoon of ginger, ½ teaspoon ground cloves, 1 – 14 ounce can of sweetened, condensed milk, 12 oz. can evaporated milk, 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice. (The ghost pumpkin or the white pumpkin is a little lighter in taste and needs more spice.) Mix all ingredients and pour into an uncooked pie crust. Bake 425 for 15 minutes and then 350* for an additional hour. Makes two “Ghost” pumpkin pies.
- Peggy Sims is a Kosciusko resident that writes a weekly column for The Star-Herald.
