The Town Jack O' lantern Competition

With blurry eyesight, I strained to make out the words and images on the paper. I reached for my pumpkin coffee mug filled with pumpkin spice coffee but my hand knocked it over instead of lifting it.

“Shit!” I jumped up, shoved my blueprints away from the dark brown wave stretching towards them, and ran for the paper towels. On my way, I tripped over a dog toy. A loud squeak pierced through the silence of my house. I landed on a small end table, knocking it and a stack of books onto the floor. I groaned in pain, but leapt up and stumbled for the paper towels.

“Jerry? What’s going on?” My wife stood in the doorway, wrapped in a robe, and glared at me with squinty eyes. “It’s 2 am. Why are you up?”

Before I could say anything, she scanned the room and her eyes fell on my papers.

“I’m planning for the jack o’ lantern contest. I only have one more week.”

“Seriously, Jerry?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s 2 am!”

Every year she rolls her eyes at my competition, forgetting she has one of her own. At least mine isn’t as mean-spirited as the Halloween party competition she has with Angela. That always ends in tears for one of them. Whichever one pours tons of money into food and decorations only to be without guests, and left crying watching yet another car roll into the winner’s house. No one cries in my competition with Brad. We respect the talent and artistry it takes to come out on top. If he wins, I will give him a nod and a firm handshake. Then I’ll head straight to my basement blackboard to start brainstorming next year.

The town jack o’ lantern competition is not merely an October affair. It takes weeks of planning, months of construction, and significant thought. Especially with it evolving each year. The first year Brad and I participated, over a decade ago now, things were much simpler. I carved a popular superhero at the time and Brad, interestingly enough, carved a villain. We both had elaborate details and both created works of art. At that point it was just one pumpkin each.

Brad changed the game five years ago when he created an entire pumpkinhead rock band. They had pumpkin guitars and pumpkin drums. It was a step up for sure, though still not too extreme. The bodies of the pumpkin bandmates were stuffed scarecrow bodies. The instruments were carved onto one pumpkin each. My carved rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night was breathtaking, but it paled in comparison to an entire band. That loss was hard. Brad had changed the rules without letting me know and I was caught off guard. I nodded, shook his hand, and silently vowed that would never happen again.

Each year got wilder. There were jack o’ lantern versions of snowmen, labyrinths, words spelled out in pumpkins with each pumpkin carved to match the theme of the word, and so on. Last year I found a pumpkin nearly the size of me, carved it like a snow globe and filled the inside with a village of houses made by smaller pumpkins. So far we were basically tied too. One year he’d win, the next I would, and so on.

This year I was creating an entire Jurassic Park of my own pumpkin dinosaurs. Still sulking from my loss in January, I purchased a chilled warehouse space. All year, it is ideal pumpkin temperature in my studio. A studio space was definitely needed. I’ve spent months constructing structural frames made of steel, rebar, pvc pipes, and chicken wire mesh. Each was built on top of a wooden platform with wheels for easy transporting.

My wife thinks I’m taking this too far, but I’m worried I’m not taking it far enough. According to my spies, my two youngest children who are friends with Brad’s children, Brad is constructing a full scale castle and dragon set up. My wife has always underestimated Brad. He plays at a totally different level. He’s on a different playing field entirely. I struggled to keep up. I needed to surpass him. I hoped I would this year, but it’s hard to say.

My wife has even gone as far as to say I’m neglecting my family. I’ve hidden the fact that my boss also complains I’m not giving my all to the company. Everyone has said something about my being around less, doing less, disappearing, etc. Perhaps they’re right. I decided sometime in the summer that I can’t keep this up. Maybe Brad can. I have no idea how he does it. No one complained about him. He attended every sporting game and school event and family gathering without issue this year. This will be my last year. One final show down. Then I’m done. No more pumpkins.

After another hour of planning, and then several hours of trying unsuccessfully to sleep, I decided to make breakfast for my family and then head to the workshop. As I packed up to leave, my oldest child surprised me.

“Hey Dad? Can I come with you?” Callie asked.

“Sure, of course. I can use all the help I can get.”

Callie was at that age of never wanting to do anything with me or her mom anymore. It was all soccer, friends, and her phone. A part of me felt suspicious. Maybe she was planning on asking me for something expensive or to do something she wasn’t normally allowed to do. Even if she was just buttering me up, I’d take any rare bit of time with her I could get.

I could feel my ego inflating with pride as she told me all sorts of stories about her life on the drive over. Yes, I was the world’s greatest Dad. A dad whose teenage daughter liked talking to him and wanted to help him with pumpkins. Surely, I’d ruin this whole thing any moment now with some stupid comment or joke.

“I’m glad you’re coming with me. This is nice.” There it was.

She shrugged. “This Youtuber I like keeps going off about how we all need to get off our phones and touch grass sometimes.”

I was a bit confused on what that meant. There wouldn’t be any grass at the warehouse. I hoped she meant real grass and not like weed or something. Every generation tries to change the whole language. I liked the idea of getting her off her phone though. “I think I like this person.”

“Eh, you probably wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough.”

When I flipped on the light switch for the room, Callie saw the giant t-rex and her jaw dropped. Her eyes practically popped out of her head.

“Oh my god! Dad! That is so cool!” She ran over to the dinosaur, and took in every angle. Then she started exploring the smaller dinosaurs. “This one is so cute.”

“I’m glad you like them.” I couldn’t smile any bigger. My face ached from it.

“Can I make one?”

“Sure, I have some templates if you want to pick one out.”

“Can I make a unicorn?”

“Of course. We can print one out.” I had a computer for this purpose. She searched and picked out the perfect one.

“How do I do this?” She looked a little embarrassed.

We started with cutting off the hat as I liked to call it. Then gutted the pumpkin. Even with all the tools I now owned, I always preferred reaching my bare hands in and pulling out of the slimy guts. Callie made a grossed out face when she first touched it, but then giggled. She never had much interest in pumpkin carving. When she was a kid, she wanted to paint them or cover them in glitter. This was her first time.

“There are so many seeds!” She said.

“Yeah, we should save these for next year.” For a moment, I forgot there wouldn’t be a next year. “Or to eat them.”

“I guess you do need a lot for something like that.” She nodded her head at the dinosaurs. She was right. It did indeed take a lot.

I taped the template on for her and showed her how to poke little holes that she could use as a guideline while cutting. Over the years I have collected a wide variety of knife sizes and woodcarving tools to make even the smallest detail possible.

While I continued progress on my t-rex, I couldn’t stop watching her. The way she smiled with pride when she did something right, or stuck out her tongue and narrowed her eyes when working on a tough spot, filled my heart with joy. It reminded me of how I felt at the start of all of this. The mastery of one carefully crafted pumpkin design felt like a great accomplishment. I glanced up at the t-rex. He was impressive, but this whole display was exhausting. It all had to be done as quickly as possible so the pumpkins wouldn’t die or mold. I didn’t remember a single smile or moment of happiness.

“Ta-da!” She held up the pumpkin. The outlines were a little rough, and some strings of pumpkin guts still dangled behind the cut out pieces.

“It’s my favorite one. I’m putting it front and center.”

“Dad! Obviously the t-rex will be front and center.” She rolled her eyes just like her mother.

“I like this one better though.”

Her lips twitched trying to hide her smile. She helped me secure some pumpkins on the t-rex’s frame before we left for the day. It was a good day. One of the best I’ve had in a long while, I realized.

Callie excitedly told her mom all about the dinosaurs at dinner. My youngest two, Mason and Abbie, listened with fascination. They hadn’t seen them yet and were bouncing with excitement at the idea. My wife smiled and told them to settle down.

“Did you pick a theme for the Halloween party?” I asked.

“Actually, we’re doing something new this year.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Angela invited me to create a party with her. Her husband works at the country club and will let us rent out their banquet hall. I think that sounds like a nice idea.”

“Wow, that is a great idea.” After all this time, the feud might finally be over. A Halloween without tears on either side. “That’s a really great idea.”

There was something different about this Halloween. Luckily, I managed to harness that energy through my last week of planning. I felt calmer than ever going into this competition. Normally the anxiety made it impossible to eat, think, or sleep. This time I felt good.

I got everything set up early and patiently waited for spectators in my lawn chair. Brad spotted me across the field, waved, and walked over.

“Hey, Jerry.” He extended a hand to shake mine. “Thought I should let you this’ll be my last year. It’s been fun, but time to move on.”

Of course Brad would even beat me to retiring from the competition. “Oh, yeah? I’ve been feeling the same.”

“End of an era. Well, good luck today.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I wandered over to see Brad’s display. The massive dragon breathing real fire through some advanced pyrotechnics made my stomach drop. Brad plays on another field entirely. I shook my head and turned back to my display. I expected it to look pitiful by comparison, but what I saw had me grinning. Callie had a group of friends surrounding her, and she was showing off her pumpkin. She looked proud. Mason and Abbie had brought a whole barrel of plastic dinosaurs that they were strategically placing among the pumpkin dinosaurs. They were making dinosaur noises and giggling. My wife was helping teenagers take photos who were posing with the dinosaurs. I walked over to join them.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Jerry.” My wife smiled. “The kids love this.”

“They do.” I beamed. I felt like a winner. I breathed deep and let out all the stress from the past few months. It was over and it felt good.

Neither Brad nor I won the competition. A young man named Robby Baxton won. He had created a very traditional 1980s porch set up, with creepy music from the times. The judges loved the simplicity. People loved the nostalgic feelings it brought up. No one cheered or whooped louder for him than Brad and I.