Saint John woman has Halloween decorating obsession
Barb Reicker has a thing for Halloween, a decorating obsession so big and compulsive, it spills next door.
"I borrowed two of my neighbours' lawns," she said. "'Because I ran out of room on mine."
Reicker, a retired educational assistant, now needs three adjacent yards to accommodate her collection of freaky babies, jack-o-lanterns, and half-buried bones.
It turns out, when you live in a modest bungalow on an East Side plot, there is such a thing as too many tattered witches and an excess of tortured souls.
The biggest space-takers are the blow-ups. A wall of inflated ghosts and ghouls and crouching cats fills up her frontage.
So aggressively abundant and jolly is Reicker's display, homeowners across the street have surrendered to her passion.
"We joined in three years ago," said Aimee Bernier, pointing to her own pile of pumpkins.
In any normal neighbourhood, Bernier's hoard of headstones would be impressive. But on this short stretch of Oakland Street, she's relegated to distant runner-up.
Still, she's good natured about how hard it is to compete. "Yes, we spend lots of money," she admitted. "But Barb goes out at the end of the year and she gets the deals and some for us, too."
Reicker said she rises with the birds every November 1 to be front of line at the sales. "That's when you get the deals," she said.
She's most proud of her two-storey Frankenstein, who stands tall with the help of a plugged-in fan.
He's one of the many characters who feeds off power cords that criss-cross her property. Regularly $200, she got him half-price.
Reicker also tries to be economical with the treats she hands out.
"My special is my mom's candy apples. I make them from scratch," she said. "I make between 100 and 125 and last year, by seven o'clock, I ran out."
For eleven months of the year, one of the city's largest private stockpiles of sawed-off hands, hoochie coochie skeletons, stuffed snakes and other gaudy curios lurks in Reicker's basement. Come October, she pulls them from their crypt.
"It takes us at least five to six days to set up," she said. Curiosity builds in the early twilight as looky-loos drive by. Grandparents park their cars and haul out small children.
"Last year we put her in with Frankenstein and took pictures of her," said James Ackerley, taking his granddaughter by the hand.
As 20-month old Evelyn Willard wanders fearlessly into the scene, Ackerley nods encourgement.
He instructs her to greet Frankenstein and when she doesn't utter a word, he chirps out instead. "Hi Frankie!" he calls with a wave.
Reicker watches with a smile of satisfaction. This is her favourite season, she says.
Reicker gets a double dose of fun at Halloween. There's the parade of costumed kids guaranteed to come that night, and the shopping for novelty knick-knacks the morning after.
