Monday, December 13, 2004
SPOOKY WORLD COMES HOME ------------ by Steve Nadis
As many of you know, October has traditionally been a hiatus for me--a chance to spend some quality time, and virtually camp out, at my favorite haunt, Spooky World. For years, this family-friendly theme park was Foxborough, Massachusetts' best-kept secret, opening its doors each fall to the innocents. Last month, my world (aka “Stevie World”) was rocked, as if an earthquake had torn my home asunder, by the announcement that Spooky World would be closed and its holdings auctioned off, piece by piece.
At first, the news was hard to fathom. An October without Spooky World? Surely this could not be. But then I bounced back, showing a resilience that surprised me--a hardiness reminiscent of another Foxborough mainstay, the New England Patriot football team. Rather than wallow in self-pity, which was how most people I know reacted, I tried to turn a negative into positive--an attitude that would have made Coach Belichick proud. If I could not make my home in Spooky World, well then Spooky World would have to come to me.
Mind you, I could not afford to purchase the park's entire, million-dollar-plus holdings. Perhaps if I'd been more frugal in my youth. But that was then. Today's reality was this: I could not sit back and let Spooky World slip away from my life forever. I consolidated some loans, took out a second mortgage, and bought what I could.
My two-year-old daughter now shares her bedroom with wax statues of Charles Manson and Bela Lugosi. The poor girl, I'm ashamed to admit, is a bit of a scaredy-cat, preferring her stuffed bears and bunnies to cult murderer and vampire. I patiently explain that Spooky World has been a vital New England tradition for the past 13 years, and we must always honor the past. Besides, my bedroom was already stuffed with artifacts--fog machines, torture devices, gargoyles, bats, and assorted monsters--courtesy of Spooky World's Horror Museum. I can barely make it to the bathroom in the middle of the night without killing myself, and there's absolutely nowhere to put Charles and Bela except in the bed itself--a sacrifice that even a horror nut like me has refused to make.
My five-year-old did her part without complaint, trashing her Barbie set to free up space within her quarters for legions of Disco Ghosts and Killer Klowns. My only complaint is that she consistently misspells “Klowns,” substituting a “c” in place of “k.” I have to remind myself that her kindergarten is what they call “traditional.” No Child Left Behind notwithstanding, education is not what it used to be.
The Grim Reaper now sits at the head of our kitchen table--our dining room jammed with artifacts from the House of Fangs, one of the nicest mausoleum's you'd ever hope to visit. Having ceded my chair to the cause, I often kneel next to the table to join my family at dinner. It all comes down to values: We put a premium on togetherness in our household, even if that includes the odd ghoul or zombie.
The living room is, shall we say, a work in progress. While Tiny Tim's ukulele is a proud addition to any room, I'm still trying to find a way of exhibiting Janet Leigh's “Psycho” dress to best effect. Michael Myers' knife from “Halloween” is also posing some display challenges, though I'm confident a solution is close at hand.
While it's hard to single out any one area in particular, the bathroom is the place I'm most proud of. For starters, we have the shower curtain and stenciled drain pattern from “Psycho”--original items that did not come cheap. Latex cobwebs stretch from ceiling to floor, while the sink is filled with a seething mass of glow-in-the-dark plastic snakes. Those things, I expect, can be found in most any house. What sets this room apart is the toilet: The usual whooshing sound has been replaced with Vincent Price's unforgettable laugh from “The House of Wax.” Admirers have called it “a flush of genius.” But I'm more modest, merely considering it a deft stroke.
I'm always shocked to hear from friends who have little or no childhood memories of Halloween. It's sad to think that such an important part of our heritage--arguably the most important part--could pass by, year after year, without making a dent.
I may not be the perfect dad. In fact, I'm sure that upon occasion I've left the toilet seat up and toothpaste uncapped. There may be other missteps I can't recall. Milk left out over night and that sort of thing. But on one point I'm certain: My children will always remember their Halloweens--frightful days that may provide fodder for decades of fruitful psychotherapy. Now I've got to make sure the non-Halloween portion of their lives also makes an impression. Responsible parents like me can do no less.
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Cambridge resident Steve Nadis has vacation property in Foxborough for sale or lease.
At first, the news was hard to fathom. An October without Spooky World? Surely this could not be. But then I bounced back, showing a resilience that surprised me--a hardiness reminiscent of another Foxborough mainstay, the New England Patriot football team. Rather than wallow in self-pity, which was how most people I know reacted, I tried to turn a negative into positive--an attitude that would have made Coach Belichick proud. If I could not make my home in Spooky World, well then Spooky World would have to come to me.
Mind you, I could not afford to purchase the park's entire, million-dollar-plus holdings. Perhaps if I'd been more frugal in my youth. But that was then. Today's reality was this: I could not sit back and let Spooky World slip away from my life forever. I consolidated some loans, took out a second mortgage, and bought what I could.
My two-year-old daughter now shares her bedroom with wax statues of Charles Manson and Bela Lugosi. The poor girl, I'm ashamed to admit, is a bit of a scaredy-cat, preferring her stuffed bears and bunnies to cult murderer and vampire. I patiently explain that Spooky World has been a vital New England tradition for the past 13 years, and we must always honor the past. Besides, my bedroom was already stuffed with artifacts--fog machines, torture devices, gargoyles, bats, and assorted monsters--courtesy of Spooky World's Horror Museum. I can barely make it to the bathroom in the middle of the night without killing myself, and there's absolutely nowhere to put Charles and Bela except in the bed itself--a sacrifice that even a horror nut like me has refused to make.
My five-year-old did her part without complaint, trashing her Barbie set to free up space within her quarters for legions of Disco Ghosts and Killer Klowns. My only complaint is that she consistently misspells “Klowns,” substituting a “c” in place of “k.” I have to remind myself that her kindergarten is what they call “traditional.” No Child Left Behind notwithstanding, education is not what it used to be.
The Grim Reaper now sits at the head of our kitchen table--our dining room jammed with artifacts from the House of Fangs, one of the nicest mausoleum's you'd ever hope to visit. Having ceded my chair to the cause, I often kneel next to the table to join my family at dinner. It all comes down to values: We put a premium on togetherness in our household, even if that includes the odd ghoul or zombie.
The living room is, shall we say, a work in progress. While Tiny Tim's ukulele is a proud addition to any room, I'm still trying to find a way of exhibiting Janet Leigh's “Psycho” dress to best effect. Michael Myers' knife from “Halloween” is also posing some display challenges, though I'm confident a solution is close at hand.
While it's hard to single out any one area in particular, the bathroom is the place I'm most proud of. For starters, we have the shower curtain and stenciled drain pattern from “Psycho”--original items that did not come cheap. Latex cobwebs stretch from ceiling to floor, while the sink is filled with a seething mass of glow-in-the-dark plastic snakes. Those things, I expect, can be found in most any house. What sets this room apart is the toilet: The usual whooshing sound has been replaced with Vincent Price's unforgettable laugh from “The House of Wax.” Admirers have called it “a flush of genius.” But I'm more modest, merely considering it a deft stroke.
I'm always shocked to hear from friends who have little or no childhood memories of Halloween. It's sad to think that such an important part of our heritage--arguably the most important part--could pass by, year after year, without making a dent.
I may not be the perfect dad. In fact, I'm sure that upon occasion I've left the toilet seat up and toothpaste uncapped. There may be other missteps I can't recall. Milk left out over night and that sort of thing. But on one point I'm certain: My children will always remember their Halloweens--frightful days that may provide fodder for decades of fruitful psychotherapy. Now I've got to make sure the non-Halloween portion of their lives also makes an impression. Responsible parents like me can do no less.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Cambridge resident Steve Nadis has vacation property in Foxborough for sale or lease.
