A couple of weeks ago, we sallied forth to Providence. It wasn’t just a random road trip, we had a plan of attack: The Roger Williams Zoo. Specifically their Jack O’Lantern Spectacular.
Julie’s Thoughts
Author’s Note:
Many years ago, I taught 1st grade students who had difficulty with receptive and expressive language. In an effort to develop descriptive terms and procedural writing, I decided that we would carve a pumpkin as part of a lesson plan in the lead up to Halloween. As a preview to the lesson, I asked the students to predict what we would be doing by prompting them with guiding questions including, “This object is orange. It is big, and round, and we can carve it” – to which a student enthusiastically exclaimed at the top of her little lungs, “PUNKIN!” I relayed this story to my brother-in-law, Frank, and I have never seen anyone laugh as hard as he did that day. He had tears streaming down his cheeks as he doubled over laughing, repeating “PUNKIN!”, setting himself off into another fit of giggles. I will never know what it was that struck him so funny, but it stuck. The orange gourds have been forever known in our family as “PUNKINS” because of Frank weaving that in every autumn as he cracked himself up all over again. A shared moment of laughter all too soon became a precious memory, as Frank passed away unexpectedly on August 11, 2025. I miss him terribly, and dedicate this blog post to his memory, as we struggle through the first of many “Punkin Seasons” without him.
Brad mentioned an intriguing event at a local Zoo, where thousands of pumpkins carved by professional and amateur artists were on display for the Halloween season. As always, I responded “Sure! Let’s go!”. I am cursed with the desire to try anything once, which makes me both exciting and dangerous at the same time as Brad can attest with some of the crazier ideas I have lobbed his way over the past year. True to form, on the ride down, I said “So – what are going to see? What’s happening here?” – and after learning that we would be walking along on paths around the zoo, viewing carved pumpkins amongst a crowd of people, I had a slight moment of pause which I kept stuffed down inside, trusting that everything would be fine once we arrived and got moving along through the display.
I should have spoken up. But I didn’t. It would have helped immensely to share with my friends the anxiety that was churning just below the surface, but in an attempt to keep things “light and lively”, I stayed quiet.
I started to feel a mild swirling panic at being jostled around in a large, moving crowd with my titanium left knee. I am rarely in pain anymore, but I am overly aware of my balance and my walking in unfamiliar places is always done while on a high level of alert to avoid stumbling or causing injury to the implant. I am used to being in swelling crowds at Boston College tailgates, but the difference is that I know the grounds so well that I can predict where every lump, bump or unexpected mound may appear, which allows me to move swiftly and efficiently in that environment.
I was also worried about being able to hear my friends because the lighting would likely be dim enough to allow for appreciation of the glowing artistry bestowed upon the pumpkins. In the absence of illuminating light, my lipreading skills are useless which then makes it that much harder to follow and engage in conversation.
Lastly, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to see all of the pumpkins – especially if taller people were in front of me, blocking my view. I knew that some pumpkins were going to be hanging from the trees. so looking up would be one way to see some of the carvings.
To quote Katharine Hepburn, a quote borrowed from a Dutch saying that she favored, “Don’t fret, it will happen differently anyway”.
She was right.
Here is how it turned out:
Walking
The path was uneven at points, and very crowded, making it challenging for me to hit a regular stride, causing my knee to stiffen up at points. I have found since having the replacement that I move best when I can maintain a steady pace. It is hard for me to change step length and walking speed at fast intervals which is why I will often tell my friends and family to “let me go” if we are walking somewhere in a group. Once I have that momentum, it is best for my knee to keep going as opposed to a constant “stop and start”, which was unavoidable in this instance. I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to have my knee replaced, but it has definitely changed my physical navigation of the world.
Stumbling Around
Due to the unevenness of the path and the unpredictable movement speeds, I did stumble more than once. Luckily, there always seemed to be a long arm and giant hand within reach to prop me back upright again. At one point, I was just about to go down and was literally caught mid-fall by Brad, in a move that was reminiscent of Superman and Lois Lane. I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to know where I am and when I am just about to topple over.
Seeing Things
I was able to see the pumpkins! There were enough breaks in the crowd and railings to perch up against, which allowed quality viewing opportunities for the vertically challenged like myself. I had the secret weapon of Brad whose pumpkin pictures were taken at a much better angle than what I could accomplish, usually shooting from below, so closer inspection of digital images was a definite advantage! I do have a propensity for wandering if something catches my eye – partly due to my ADHD, and partly due to my natural curiosity. Like a crow, I am drawn to shiny and novel things, and will fly off with no warning. I think I may have caused Brad a few panic moments as I got swallowed up by the crowd, but I always found my way back. Eventually.
Hearing Things
This was easily the biggest challenge of the night. As predicted, the lighting was dim, making it hard to lip read. Due to being in a large crowd, even pulling off to the side to have a conversation was tricky. I focused on enjoying the artistry poured into the pumpkin carvings, but for someone that keeps up a near steady stream of commentary it was tough for me to engage others in conversation about the pumpkins. I found this part to be the most frustrating, so to appease my need for chattiness, I took a ton of pictures to look at and discuss later with friends and family. I now know that if I go to this event again or something similar, I can expect it to be a more solitary experience that can be rehashed at a later date.
My final thoughts? I enjoyed it! I love art and am always in admiration of the creativity of others. It was incredible to study some of the carvings and try and piece everything together from idea generation to the tools used to achieve the images and details. There were a few carvings that looked as though you could reach out and feel a furry texture – I have no idea how they captured that on a pumpkin! I appreciated the chance to do something in celebration of the autumn season beyond my usual attendance at football games – made more special by being surrounded by thousands of “punkins”.
Frank would have loved it.
Brad’s Thoughts
Crowds are always a wee bit challenging for me. They’re an assault on not just introversion but also my senses. And since this was an event fueled by fire, that meant it was a two-pronged attack: I could neither see nor hear well. And it may surprise you to learn that, at first, it was too dang loud for this hard of hearing dude.
As we passed the ticket booth, we entered the crush of food jockeys, beer slingers, and knick-knack sellers. We bobbed and wove our way through the crowd milling about trying to decide which booth they wanted, nay needed, to visit before venturing down to the path of hollowed-out pumpkins. It may have been out under the stars but hundreds of people in close quarters still make quite the din. I looked at Julie and, as we are wont to do, we both had the same thought at the same time.
“By Yoda’s pointy ears it’s loud!”
After a brief palaver with our fellow travellers, we decided to forgo stopping at one of the stalls and made our way under the archway that was the start of the path. Sort of. We had a long and winding road yet before we got to the Jack O’Lanterns. We were taken passed more chances to lighten the weight of our wallets and even passed some animals. (This was a zoo after all,) Before we could even see the second arch, we saw lights in the trees. I was not entirely sure we were not being tricked by some devious gaggle of Will O’the Whisps to come to our doom. But eventually we made it and it was brilliant. But that’s not to say there weren’t DHH-related troubles. Because there are always DHH-related troubles in the world not made with us in mind.
The first of which was the struggle to read lips. The thousands of Jack O’Lanterns on either side of us, and even above us, gave off a goodly bit o’light. But the throng made better doors than windows. Anytime we wanted to comment on some awesome sight, we’d have to get really close to one another. The music and the general hubbub of so many people in one place settled a constant buzz of background noise on us. So we needed to lean on our speech reading skills. Which was made more challenging by the dimly-lit, crowded, path.
As everyone lingered for various amounts of time, the path gained a bit of elbow room. Still, there was a constant need to dodge people of various shapes and sizes. Being over six-feet, I’m used to keeping my head on a swivel to not lose the people I’m with in the crowd. All that dodging and swivelling was tough for this balance-challenged lad. Many a time I would spin around to either call attention to one of the carvings or to make sure I knew where the others in my group were only to nearly tip over. I’ve found the key to staying on my feet is to move slowly. That’s not always an easy thing to do with so many spectacular carvings around. Fortunately, I managed to do it. I even helped Jule keep her feet a time or two as well. While not always something a hard of hearing person struggles with, both Julie and I do struggle with our balance. Another thing we struggled to hear was the music.
Each patch of pumpkins had a theme. And each theme had a soundtrack. There were speakers hidden amongst the trees at the start of each section. Themes included cars, comics, baseball, and movies. But my favorite was the dog patch. Because they had a Boston Terrier. It’s rare to see a Boston amongst a display of dogs. Both Julie and I were stoked. In fact the closest I came to falling on my keister was when I spun around to find Julie and bring her over to the carving of the Boston.
What song(s) made up the soundtrack for the dogs? Your guess is as good as mine. I heard snatches of certain songs above the crowd noise but the only time I “heard” a song clearly was when a well-known piece wedged its way into my sub-conscious. The shadows of my mind let me know I’d heard that famous open notes of the Indiana Jones theme. But I couldn’t say if I heard the rest of it or if it was just the memory of the song playing with my head.
Struggles or no, I’d totally do this next year!
Jack of the lantern,
My, what a big smile you have!
Inner lights shine bright.
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