No costume more terrifying than burlap feed sack

link Betty Williamson

Local columnist

One Halloween, when my brothers and I were but sprouts, someone came up with the idea of dressing us as miniature matching hobos.

Cottonseed meal, a ranch feed staple of the time, was delivered in burlap sacks. Once the feed was removed, the sacks were endlessly recycled for everything from drying off newborn calves to, yes, dressing small, unfortunate children.

We selected three of the more worn-out feed sacks (good ones were too valuable to sacrifice for this cause), and cut head and arm holes. In what we soon learned was a wasted effort, our mother ran them through repeated cycles in the washing machine, drenching them in fabric softener.

When the big night came, we used lumps of charcoal to smudge our hands, arms, and faces, then donned these garments from hell.

I remember the endless drive to Portales in our station wagon (time crawls when one is encased in burlap). We scratched our way from house to house, finally ringing the doorbell at Mrs. Marley’s home. A recently retired elementary teacher from the Dora schools, she was delighted to see small children she knew, and she swept us up in long, long … long … hugs.

We were too polite to scream.

Forty-five Hal-loweens later, my skin is still prickling.

Vampires, ghouls, ax murderers? Not on your life. For me there is no more terrifying costume than a burlap feed bag.

Betty Williamson wishes you a soft and fuzzy Halloween. You may reach her at;

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