My dad was born in 1912 in the borough of Brooklyn. A lot of the people living in New York at that time brought their beliefs and customs with them from all over the world. They celebrated what they knew. But kids ran the streets, as I did and maybe you too, and meeting new kids in the neighborhood was always an adventure. You lived one way and then you'd meet up with someone who did things differently. You'd talk about, both in awe of the difference and you teamed up to make play with the best combination.
I'm not a historian but I'll tell you the little bit I know about Ragamuffin Day. When I heard about it I didn't know when it started, but I did know my father had the best wild memories of pranks and running the streets with his brother. Uncle Frederick. A lot of things came down on kids back then. Some of them started work young like my Grandma Sophie, or if you went to school there was some pretty severe discipline handed down. But if you could take that, the adults knew you had to let it out somehow.
I did read that it started around 1870, a couple of years after Lincoln made Thanksgiving a holiday. It was mostly a New York holiday but it was celebrated in other places too. But New York made it hardcore. My dad said they'd ask for pennies in the street and at doors, but sometimes they'd get food. So there you go. Asking for treats. If you didn't hand something over there would be a severe trick. A lesson you wouldn't forget. It was a night of mayhem.
Most of the kids, and some adults, dressed like bums. Always a disguise. I guess there were parades of kids but my father and uncle pretty much stuck to mayhem. How much fun. They had to let it out. Cold air. Fallen leaves. Fires for warmth. Running and laughing.
Whenever I see people posting really old photos of Halloween, with people in freaky costumes, I say to myself "That's Thanksgiving. Ragamuffin Day."
Jump ahead decades. More people moved in. I don't want to get into a bunch of philosophy, but commerce took over. Less mystery. People lost magical thinking. The push to end the night of mayhem. Alright. Things quieted down. Considerably. Think of all the fun you had as a kid and what they have now. What is in this push for blandness? Maybe we better rethink some of this.
Here's my little story of mayhem as taught by my father. It was the early 60's and my nieces were over for the day. We were all kids. My oldest sister was twenty years older and had kids just a couple years younger than me. Nice fall day in October. My dad told us a story about Ragamuffin Day. We all asked in glee "What did you do? Yeah!" Jumping up and down. "We want to do it!" "We want to do it!"
We had funny neighbors on either side. The Italians on one side that never spoke at a normal volume. They loved each other and communicated by yelling.
The other neighbors were Germans. He was a baker. Typically stoic. The only time I ever saw them was when my mom was gossiping over the chainlink fence to the German wife when they were both hanging laundry on the clothesline. I don't know what the story was... if there was some kind of reason for this, but they were the chosen victims of the educational prank. Maybe they didn't like the part of Germany my grandparents were from.
So my dad told us to get a dozen eggs. Alright. In the pile. Ok. "Get one of those cotton sports socks each." Alright, we each had one. "Now get flour." Ok. We had a whole bag of flour. Fill the socks with as much flour as possible. Ok. We did this. He told us how it was important to lay down the eggs first so that the flour stuck.
Now this may seem shocking to you now. I don't know when and how things changed but trickery was just part of life. Ok! "Go hit that car with the eggs! Get them all over!" I hit the top of the car more cause I was the tallest then, even though I was just a kid punk. "Now slam that flour all over!" Oh we did. My belly was aching from laughing so much. The destruction was complete and impressive. The sight of their car white like Mr. Freeze hit it with some type of magic ice gun. Just a typical suburban dad at the time handing down tradition.
"You may think I'm an asshole
You may think I'm a punk
But our life of mayhem was better
Than living in stupid funk."
No comments:
Post a Comment