Dear Uncle Scott Who Is Really More My Age and So I Think Of You Kind Of Like a Brother:
I always think of you this time of year. I see the costumes- the spiders and ghosts and cute little bloody Draculas and it makes me want to like Halloween. I might have liked Halloween, but not after The Incident. I know you wish that I would forget The Incident, but I just can’t. And my mother tells me to get over it as though it would be that easy. And my sisters claim to not even remember it- did you pay them off? (Yes, I’m aware that we’re over 30 years old and this happened more than 20 years ago. I can really hold a grudge, huh?)
Every Halloween, my mother (your sister) and Grandma (your mother) drove us around house to house. The night of The Incident, I remember overhearing some of my mother’s conversation with Grandma. We were going to a widower’s home next because it was a nice thing to do. My mother waited until we were out of the car to say, “He probably doesn’t have candy, just wish him a happy Halloween.”
You rang the doorbell. The house was completely dark except for a bluish glow from the television. We waited. And waited. We were about to give up when we heard someone moving in the house and the porch light came on. An elderly man opened the door. He was so excited. You tried, I’ll give you that. You said, “We just came to say Happy Halloween!” Then began backing away. But we didn’t follow quickly enough.
The man invited us in so he could “have a look at us.” We went in and showed off our costumes. Finally he said, “Well, let me see now, I didn’t expect visitors tonight, but I’m sure I have something for you.” Everyone knows that “something” means an apple. To our surprise, he came back from the kitchen with FULL SIZE CLARK BARS. He removed the cellophane and told us that he had them for lunch everyday. He left them in their box, sat it down and said, “Help yourselves.” Then he went outside to wave at my mother and grandma. There were just enough FULL SIZE CLARK BARS for each of us to have one. My sisters exited and each took a candy bar. You were right behind me, and as I picked up mine, you said, “Put it back, they’re his lunch. He didn’t even expect us.” And you put yours back in the box.
You knew that I would listen to you because my mother always made me listen to you. I watched you put yours back and wanting to emulate you, wanting to do the right thing, wanting you to be proud, wanting you not to tell on me, I nobly put mine back, too. As I stepped outside, I looked back through my steamed-up plastic mask for your approval- maybe a reassuring smile telling me that I’d done the right thing. AND I SAW YOU TAKE YOUR FULL SIZE CLARK BAR BACK.
You betrayed me. And then you let my sisters call me crybaby- I’m still bitter about that, too. I think I’ve never really trusted since then. I know it’s been over 20 years, but I can’t forget it. I’ve mentioned The Incident to you on several occasions, but you’ve never really acknowledged it. You don’t remember. Convenient memory loss, wouldn’t you say? And, no, I don’t want a Clark Bar. Stop asking me that. Don’t you understand the deeper meaning of The Incident and the impact on my life? Besides, they hurt my teeth. That’s not the point.
Maybe if you just apologized. (In writing, so I can show my mother). Maybe if you told my sisters than I’m not a crybaby because I cried in the car that night and couldn’t get my mask off to tell them all what had happened. Maybe then I could get over it.
I just want you to know that I’m still bitter and if I ever go crazy I will blame it on you.
Your niece,
(Name of Submitter Removed)
I always think of you this time of year. I see the costumes- the spiders and ghosts and cute little bloody Draculas and it makes me want to like Halloween. I might have liked Halloween, but not after The Incident. I know you wish that I would forget The Incident, but I just can’t. And my mother tells me to get over it as though it would be that easy. And my sisters claim to not even remember it- did you pay them off? (Yes, I’m aware that we’re over 30 years old and this happened more than 20 years ago. I can really hold a grudge, huh?)
Every Halloween, my mother (your sister) and Grandma (your mother) drove us around house to house. The night of The Incident, I remember overhearing some of my mother’s conversation with Grandma. We were going to a widower’s home next because it was a nice thing to do. My mother waited until we were out of the car to say, “He probably doesn’t have candy, just wish him a happy Halloween.”
You rang the doorbell. The house was completely dark except for a bluish glow from the television. We waited. And waited. We were about to give up when we heard someone moving in the house and the porch light came on. An elderly man opened the door. He was so excited. You tried, I’ll give you that. You said, “We just came to say Happy Halloween!” Then began backing away. But we didn’t follow quickly enough.
The man invited us in so he could “have a look at us.” We went in and showed off our costumes. Finally he said, “Well, let me see now, I didn’t expect visitors tonight, but I’m sure I have something for you.” Everyone knows that “something” means an apple. To our surprise, he came back from the kitchen with FULL SIZE CLARK BARS. He removed the cellophane and told us that he had them for lunch everyday. He left them in their box, sat it down and said, “Help yourselves.” Then he went outside to wave at my mother and grandma. There were just enough FULL SIZE CLARK BARS for each of us to have one. My sisters exited and each took a candy bar. You were right behind me, and as I picked up mine, you said, “Put it back, they’re his lunch. He didn’t even expect us.” And you put yours back in the box.
You knew that I would listen to you because my mother always made me listen to you. I watched you put yours back and wanting to emulate you, wanting to do the right thing, wanting you to be proud, wanting you not to tell on me, I nobly put mine back, too. As I stepped outside, I looked back through my steamed-up plastic mask for your approval- maybe a reassuring smile telling me that I’d done the right thing. AND I SAW YOU TAKE YOUR FULL SIZE CLARK BAR BACK.
You betrayed me. And then you let my sisters call me crybaby- I’m still bitter about that, too. I think I’ve never really trusted since then. I know it’s been over 20 years, but I can’t forget it. I’ve mentioned The Incident to you on several occasions, but you’ve never really acknowledged it. You don’t remember. Convenient memory loss, wouldn’t you say? And, no, I don’t want a Clark Bar. Stop asking me that. Don’t you understand the deeper meaning of The Incident and the impact on my life? Besides, they hurt my teeth. That’s not the point.
Maybe if you just apologized. (In writing, so I can show my mother). Maybe if you told my sisters than I’m not a crybaby because I cried in the car that night and couldn’t get my mask off to tell them all what had happened. Maybe then I could get over it.
I just want you to know that I’m still bitter and if I ever go crazy I will blame it on you.
Your niece,
(Name of Submitter Removed)
posted by File Boy & D.Tkon at 3:00 PM
1 Comments:
This was a reader-submitted entry, which has been posted under the October archives because of the subject matter. This submission was too good not to post, so please enjoy.
Remember, there are many reasons to go back and read the archives, you never know what little nugget of goodness may be waiting for you here.
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