It all passed too quickly, and the music didn’t linger.
In the Hammocks neighborhood, the music of the night was the giggling of costumed children who spent the early evening hours of All Hallows Eve rushing house to house and filling bags, pillowcases and boxes with treats. Hannah Montana was as ubiquitous as the many clones of Batman and Spider-Man, and some put more effort than others into their presentation.
More than a few of the goodie bags extended on this evening were grasped by children wearing no costume at all to cover their street clothes. But their lack of effort just made the imaginative one stand out all the more, like the child dressed as a mouse in a trap, or the little turtle who paused to model her head gear and berate me for rushing her before speeding along the sidewalk to the next house.
Before we knew it, the streets were empty. The ghouls had gone home to nurse stomachs packed too full of sweets. Porch lights all around were extinguished.
Later that night, in a house near downtown Panama City, the music was delta blues, but it carried an eerie edge, almost the whine of a theremin, like you’d hear in a 1950s sci-fi film. The keening moan came from a saw wedged between the knees of artist Heather Clements, who flexed the metal and excited it with a bow.
She accompanied guitarist and singer Slim Fatz, who worked the strings of a box guitar and sang the blues.
The location was the UnReal Artists Gallery, 839 Oak Ave., which was hosting an after-hours Halloween “Spooktacular.”
Host and owner Paulette Perlman encouraged guests to take a candle and wander through the darkened back rooms of the house on a self-guided art tour. They moved carefully, studying walls adorned with art — paintings, collections of objects, photographs, and a room decorated with ghosts and spider webs. Some held their candles perilously close to the work to pick out details.
Outside, in the “outdoor house,” the air was cool and clear. Though people milled and mingled, nothing went bump in the night.
Before we knew it, morning broke with Christmas music in the retail stores and on the radio. Jingle bells rang as crumpled Jack O’Lanterns dropped into garbage cans and candy wrappers got scooped off the floor. The sudden change was jarring, but then I had a flash of Jack Skellington in his Santa suit, and realized everything was going to be OK.
Peace.
Meet Simona Ondrejkova: Born in Brno, Czech Republic, she immigrated to America during middle school. She works at Red Lobster as a hostess, and she volunteers at Covenant Hospice. She’s interested in psychology as a career and ended up interning here because of her talent for writing.
Members of the Bay High School “Million Dollar Band” were on a parking lot from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day last week, practicing complicated marching formations and playing music. Like bands across the county, state, and nation, they braved the summer heat and occasional showers to prepare for their football season halftime shows.
The parking lot was lined and marked with a grid to help the students find their positions once they were allowed to perform on a football field. They faced the sun and played or twirled or tossed flags while walking sideways or backwards, weaving in between one another and dodging a videographer who kept getting in the way.
