As Halloween fast approaches, it is time to tell my cousin Suzanne’s story about Grandma and the Bats.

The year was 1985. The place was our maternal Grandma‘s house in New Haven.

Our mothers’ cute childhood home at 33 Chatham Street was a wedding gift from Grandma’s parents in 1929.

Grandpa had passed away three years earlier and Grandma was delighted when Suzie accepted her invitation to be roomies.

Suzanne was recently out of college and had several part-time jobs in New Haven, so it was an ideal situation. Her parents and younger sister, Beth, were in nearby North Haven.

Late one summer evening, Suzie headed for bed, leaving Grandma downstairs, watching her beloved Johnny Carson on TV.

My cousin was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a rustling sound in the room.

She turned on the light.

Suzanne tells the rest of the story:

Grandma’s “security system” included wrapping dozens of rubber bands around the doorknob and then stretching them over to latch onto a hook. That way if someone tried to break in, they’d have to overcome the strength of the rubber bands. Genius, right?

Suzie told me Grandma was taking too long disabling her system, so she grabbed her and they dashed out the front door, under the watchful red eyes of at least two bats.

In case you’re poo-pooing the thought of fleeing a house in terror after encountering bats, let me remind you:

Okay, so maybe you think that’s a cute, furry little critter. Misunderstood and maligned.

How about this toothy-grinned mammal?

Suzanne confessed she and Grandma stayed in North Haven for a few nights. Beth never did stop laughing.

The bats must have escaped through the open bedroom window, as the specialist they brought in to examine Grandma’s house found nary a trace.

The sisters commemorated the event 25 years later for Halloween.

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