Day One:
It’s not even 6 p.m., and some dude dressed as the Grim Reaper nods solemnly as I breeze past him, en route to get my ice cream fix at LiftOff Creamery in Irvington. Two scoops of Graham Central Station in a waffle cup, please.
Every year, I look for an unofficial sign that Halloween has arrived in my eastside neighborhood, named after Washington Irving. Irvington has no connection to “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” author, but 150 years ago, the founders thought the area had spooky vibes. The neighborhood turned the aura into a brand.
Random Grim Reaper is definitely this year’s sign.
A few years ago, it was a car cruising down Washington Street. I waved at the driver and a mechanical arm waved back. The monsters around here are polite.
Day Two:
I dive into my basement to resurrect a costume specially made for my 30th birthday. (I was born on Halloween.) It’s a gown inspired by the one Marilyn Monroe wore in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”
The last time I tried on the dress, I was 40. It took two people and one pair of needle-nose pliers to zip it up. I need something good to wear to Saturday’s Irvington Halloween street festival, which is a costume catwalk for humans and pets. My favorite year was when I met up with a friend and her baby, both dressed as Weird Al Yankovic.
This year, I predict we’ll see the Menendez brothers (possibly celebrating their new sentencing?), “Pommel Horse Guy” and Moo Deng. I love a good “ripped from the headlines” costume.
I leave the Marilyn dress on its hanger, and instead choose carbs at Napolis Pizza, 3475 N. Shadeland Ave. The ginormous calzone costs only $8.50.
Day Three:
Fake graveyards pop up all over Irvington this time of year. A yard on Norway Drive has “headstones” with names of long-deceased Irvingtonians – notable and notorious. One says, “Dr. John Kingsbury.”
The Kingsbury family has a long history in the neighborhood, and that’s why my now ex-husband and I chose Irvington when we moved to Indy with our young daughter in 2008.
Dr. Kingsbury, who died in 1972, was Madge Oberholtzer’s family physician. He took care of her in the spring of 1925, after she was raped and tortured by D.C. Stephenson, the powerful Grand Dragon of the KKK who lived in Irvington. Before she died, at age 28, she gave a deathbed declaration that led to his conviction for second-degree murder.
I wonder what Oberholtzer would think of the new mural that Irvington is creating to honor her. Would she see it as a celebration of her courage? Or, after 100 years, would she say that it’s time to let her rest?
Day Four:
I go for a bike ride on the Pennsy Trail with my friend and handyman, Damon. He’s helped keep my old brick house in good standing. I think he is Ernest Shackleton, reincarnated.
When we get near the Motel 8 on East Washington Street, he takes a detour off the trail. We drop our bikes and duck into a secluded clearing behind the motel, where he shows me a cemetery that looks abandoned.
On our ride back, Damon and I see five cats – one that tries to edge us off the trail, one that meows loudly, and another that lays in the middle of the trail, unfazed. Damon tells me he estimates that he has about 1,500 weekends left in his lifetime, and he wants to make the most of each one.
I apologize for changing the subject, and ask if has needle-nose pliers in his van. He says no.
A black cat scurries across the Pennsy.
Day Five:
My mom asks if I’ve picked my annual theme for my birthday. One year, I did 365 days of cartwheels. I’d just gotten divorced, and saw it as a metaphor for turning my life upside down and landing on my feet.
I tell her this year is about “letting go.” I only say that because she doesn’t like cursing. My real theme is a two-word phrase from Anthony Hopkins’ conversation about mortality with Brad Pitt in Interview magazine.
Hopkins: “I once asked a Jesuit priest, ‘What is the shortest prayer in the world?’ He said, ‘Fu** it.’ It’s the prayer of release. None of it is important. The important thing is to enjoy life as it is.”
I think about Damon’s “1,500 weekends,’’ and try to plan a great birthday celebration in Irvington:
- Friday night: Take the Monsterz Inc tour in the dungeon at Jess West Costumes. I picture it as part-Universal Studios, part-House of Yes – all created by local artists.
- 9 a.m. Saturday: Pop into Magpie Studio & Gallery to create … something creative. All levels are welcome. Plus, free coffee.
- Saturday night: Play pinball on the third floor of the Irvington Lodge. The arcade’s 100 machines aren’t always open to the public, but they will be from 1 to 9 p.m. Oct. 26.
- Halloween (Oct. 31): Put a bowl of candy on my porch for trick or treaters. Stroll over to the 700 block of Graham Avenue to watch free, live, front-yard theater put on by the talented Weidenbach family and their friends. This year’s theme is “Celebrity SPIN!”
Day Six:
I get coffee at the new Jack’s Donuts and do my laundry at Irvington Wellness Center. I can’t use my washer at home because a tree root is (likely) choking the main drain.
Laura Lea, the center’s owner, lets me use her washing machine while the studio is empty. There’s always something new and interesting going on here. I contemplate riding the Equicizer, a mechanical horse. Something about it reminds me of the year Laura Lea helped bring in Joanna Rohrback, the Prancercise Lady who went viral in 2013, to lead the Irvington Halloween Festival parade.
My daughter was little back then, and she was scared of the Prancercise Lady. I mean, for sure Rohrback prances to the beat of a different drum – but you had to admire her kiss-my-grits attitude toward the haters.
Day Seven:
I decide to retire the Marilyn costume. What am I trying to prove? Regardless of whether it fits, it doesn’t fit who I am anymore.
Instead, I want to dress up as Gladys, the orca who’s been making headlines for leading her pod to attack boats off the Iberian Peninsula.
Is she just being playful? Or vengeful? The mystery is part of her appeal. What we do know: Gladys is an organizer, and she has a clear point of view.
At dusk, I walk near Audubon Circle – my favorite “pocket of cool” in Irvington. Nonchalantly rolling though is a 1967 Cadillac ambulance that makes me think of the Ectomobile from “Ghostbusters.” The driver flashes a peace sign.
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