Gomez Addams and the Pumpkin Caper

My father had quite a sense of humor and loved all things spooky and ghoulish. He had a particular fondness for Charles Addams, whose cartoons became the basis for the 1960s series “The Addams Family.” 

Through a bit of fortuitous genetics, my father happened to be (pardon the pun) a ‘dead ringer’ for John Astin, the actor who played Gomez, the Addams Family patriarch. 

This meant Halloween was a pretty big deal at our house. My father would don an old, double-breasted, pinstriped suit he’d found at Goodwill. My mother, a good sport about these things, put on a long, slinky, dark velvet dress and black, straight-haired wig. 

‘Gomez’ and ‘Morticia’ would open the front door of our creaky, brown-stained, cedar shake-sided house and greet trick-or-treaters who, more often than not, would stand slack-jawed on the porch, their feet rooted in abject fear. I imagine these kids expected Lurch or Cousin It to be around somewhere.

One Halloween I was too sick to trick or treat. I was devastated. My parents handed out treats, scaring some of the younger children, but making their parents (and some older kids) scream with laughter. 

The doorbell would ring; my parents would station themselves at the door, then open it and assume the Gomez and Morticia pose. 

But one time, the doorbell rang and there was no one there. My father looked around. Nothing. Except a fit of giggling in the azalea bushes next to our front porch railing. 

My father looked over the railing, and then stepped back. 

“I recognize you, Ted and Stan,” my father said, in his stern voice. “Put our pumpkins back.”

I was mortified, fervently hoping my father wasn’t going to make a scene that would lead to my never-ending embarrassment. I had known Stan and Ted since the third grade and they were part of the neighborhood gang. 

“I’ve caught you fair and square,” my dad said. “So the rules are, you can’t steal our pumpkins!” 

“Yes, sir,” I heard from the bushes. 

My father stood there a moment longer, then sauntered in and shut the door. 

A few minutes later, I heard a loud THUMPA, THUMPA, THUMPA. The doorbell rang. 

My father opened the door and looked around. No one was there. But there were now two additional pumpkins on our front porch. He let out a sort of snort, trying not to laugh, and shut the door. 

After a little while, I heard it again. THUMPITY, THUMPA, THUM, THUMPA, THUMPITY. Dad opened the door. More pumpkins. And again, after a little more time had passed, THUMPA, THUMPITY, THUMPA-THUMP, THUMP THUMPITY. More pumpkins. 

My father and I were laughing openly now, realizing that he hadn’t said anything to Stan and Ted about taking anyone else’s pumpkins or where they should deposit them. 

For several hours it went on: THUMP, THUMPITY, THUMPITY, THUMPA-THUMPA, THUMP. More pumpkins, of all shapes and sizes. At one point, we simply stopped opening the door and turned out the porch light. 

Even as I finally went to bed and drifted off to sleep, I remember hearing the last group of pumpkins being deposited on our porch. 

The next morning my father called me to the front porch. I counted more than 60 pumpkins. They must have taken every pumpkin from every porch in the neighborhood. The porch was filled with them. Many were in pieces, no doubt from their rough abduction and hurried journey. Others were still in perfect jack-o-lantern condition. There was even one, at least 75 pounds, uncarved, sitting on a porch step, as if it had grown there. 

“You’ll be cleaning this up, of course,” my father said. I was sure I noticed a slight smile and wink when he said it. 

It took me a while to clean up the porch. After all, there were seeds and pumpkin pieces everywhere. I didn’t mind. 

Over the years, Ted and Stan continued to be neighborhood friends. Periodically, my father would try to get them to confess to the Great Pumpkin Caper, but they never did. 

My father always appreciated a good joke, even if it was on him. He passed away a long time ago and I think of him often, now that I’m raising my own trick-or-treaters. That Halloween remains the best one ever and I think how truly scary the world would be without laughter and good friends.