An Arizona Couple’s Halloween Decorations Went Up in September, the HOA Had No Idea Who They Were For

My husband Ray and I are retired. He carried mail for 33 years, I taught kindergarten, and every October our house in east Mesa turns into the street’s Halloween headquarters. The star is a 12-foot skeleton the neighborhood kids named Skeleton Steve. This year, Steve went up on September 1, 61 days early, and I’ll admit it: even I thought that was a lot.

It was 104 degrees that afternoon. A man jogging past slowed down and laughed, “It’s still summer, lady. You good?” The couple next door stopped waving at us. A woman walking her dog asked if we were “trying to get attention at our age.” Be honest: if your 70-year-old neighbor put up a giant skeleton in September, would you assume they’d lost it a little?

Our HOA has a rule, section 7.3: holiday decorations no earlier than 30 days before the holiday. Our HOA president, Pam, has run the board for nine years and once fined a man $50 for a doormat “in the wrong shade of brown.” HOAs exist to protect property values, sure, but at some point “rules are rules” turns into somebody who just enjoys being in charge. Where’s that line for you?

Pam stormed onto our porch on September 3, clipboard and all. “That tacky junk comes down by Friday, or it’s $200 a day,” she said, loud enough for the neighbors watering their yards to stop and stare. Then she looked at me: “Some people retire and lose all sense of taste.” My face burned. Would you have taken it down right there, or dug in and paid?

My husband didn’t argue. He went inside and came back with a white envelope, Pam written on it in his old mail-carrier block letters. “Open it here, Pam,” he said. “In front of everybody.” She rolled her eyes and tore it open. Inside was a purple crayon drawing of Skeleton Steve and a note from Pam’s twin granddaughters, Ellie and June, 9, who live two streets over: “Can Steve come early this year? Our dad’s job is moving us to Germany on October 1 and we won’t be here for Halloween. Please don’t tell Grandma, it’s a surprise for her too.” Pam had just called her own grandkids’ goodbye gift “tacky junk” in front of half the street.

Pam sat down on our porch step. She read the note twice, then put her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t known about the girls’ request. Here’s my confession: Ray and I had the note for two weeks and could have told her privately. We let her march over here and embarrass herself first. Was that fair to her, or did she earn it the second she called our home a tacky mess?

The fight didn’t end on our porch. Pam pulled the fine, but a board member named Doug insisted that ’you bend a rule once, and nobody follows it again,’ and pushed for a vote. It passed 3–2 to let Steve stay. Doug still won’t look at us at the mailboxes. Who should win when a rulebook and a pair of 9-year-olds want different things?

On September 28 we threw an early Halloween party for Ellie and June. Half the street came. The jogger brought donuts. Pam carved pumpkins on our driveway and laughed harder than I’d ever seen her laugh. Steve stays up until November 1, Doug or no Doug. Should HOAs write in exceptions for moments like this, or does one exception open the door for everyone? Tell me where you stand. Some days I think the best part of living somewhere is the happiness you didn’t plan for.