Good Grooming. Wicked Timing.

One of my favorite childhood memories goes back to 1979. We lived on the east side of Indianapolis, on a little street called Conried Court. It was a tiny two-bedroom house, my sister and I shared a room, and out back was a detached two-car garage.

Haunted Garage

That Halloween, my dad turned that garage into something incredible. He built a full maze out of plywood and 2x4s, and my mom decorated it with all the spooky touches she could find, turning it into our own neighborhood haunted house.

She hung black lights from the rafters, brushed glow-in-the-dark paint along the walls, and set up little surprises that glowed and shimmered as you turned each corner.

To an eight-year-old kid, it felt like stepping into another world — eerie, glowing, and completely mesmerizing.

We invited every kid from the neighborhood and their parents to come through our homemade haunted maze.

There was a small window in that garage. My dad stood outside it wearing a scary mask, waiting for just the right moment to flick on his flashlight and scream. As you turned a corner inside, someone else was ready to jump out and give you a good scare.

I was eight years old, laughing, screaming, and having the time of my life - and it was pure magic.

It was simple, homemade, and unforgettable. That’s what I love about that era. We knew how to make fun out of nothing and live every day to the fullest.