H A L L O W E E N  N O W

If you haven’t guessed by now, my favorite holiday of the year is Halloween. Yes, even more than Christmas (sorry I used the C word). I enjoy decorating my house to look creepy, making props to put up on display, giving candy to the trick or treaters (TOTs) after giving them a good scare and even dressing up as a witch or grim reaper, as my mood sees fit that year. Halloween at our house is a year ‘round project. It is not unusual to have a skeleton sitting in the living room or a skull on the kitchen table being worked on. My partner has grown use to my obsession and luckily tolerates and accepts my eccentricities. As I look back in time, I remember those houses that scared me or made me shrill with fear as I walked up to get my treat. Unfortunately, I have been conditioned to be a screamer. And even now as a full grown adult, I will scream at a fright even if I know that it is coming. Silly I know, and I haven’t figured out why, I just do. 

I also belong to a couple of email groups created especially for the Halloween enthusiast and attend a couple of conventions a year to continue my knowledge and to fellowship with friends that I have made within the past few years that share the same illness, opps, I meant share the same passion for Halloween as I do.

H A L L O W E E N  A S  A  Y O U T H

As far back as I can remember I have always celebrated Halloween in one way, shape or form. My earliest Halloween memories are of either my mom or dad taking me to trick or treat in my small hometown of Alamogordo. We lived outside the city limits, so we’d have to get into the car and make the trip into town to fill our pillowcase with goodies. Not having any brothers or sisters, I would usually get one of the neighbor kids to come with me. Before it would start get dark and mom had helped put my costume together, my parents would load us in the car and off we would go. We must have driven our parents crazy back then. I can picture us all rambunctious in the back seat, peeking out of the window just barely able to contain ourselves from the excitement, anxiously waiting to get to our destination. Of course from previous Halloweens, we already knew which sections of town handed out the “good” candies and we would make sure mom and dad made those stops first. These “good” candies consisted of the large regular candy bars, not those little wimpy snack size things! So those were the neighborhoods that we would prey on, uhh, I meant visit first.

Mom and Dad would park the car at the end of Juniper Drive, one of the longer streets of Alamogordo back then. Before being let lose, we’d be given specific instructions. Don’t go to homes that don’t have the porch light on, stay together in our group and be careful crossing the street on your way around the block. 

Off we’d go with our empty pillowcase in tow. As we got a little older we got smarter. We would bring an extra pillowcase just in case. After all, one never knew when we’d hit the mother lode. We’d go as fast as our little legs could take us without tripping usually over our costume or from not being able to see through the store bought masks. At least one parent or poor older sibling that got stuck with the walking detail would walk the sidewalk and wait for us as we go up to the door and rang door bells. We’d go up and down the street making sure that we didn’t miss any houses. Then we’d get back to where the car was parked and off we would go off to another neighborhood. This ritual continued for a couple of hours or until our parents decided that they had had enough.

We’d pile back into the car and come home with our bootie. Sometimes we’d come home with a pillowcase full of candy, fruit and sometimes small change. And of course next came the preening of the candy. This was as important as the actual act of trick or treating itself. We’d empty out our pillowcases onto our beds. Our eyes must have twinkled with glee. The “good” candies in one pile, the penny candy in another, apples and oranges in another and the candies that we didn’t like in another. This pile was usually the smallest. But this was the pile that we would start bartering with. I’ll give you three of these for one of that, etc.

And of course mom and dad would step in and only allow us to eat a couple of candies on Halloween night for fear of staying up all night with a sick-to-their stomach child. The rest had to be saved to be eaten at a later time. I was lucky though. I know that some of my friends had to share their bootie with their younger siblings. Ah ha, I knew being an only child would eventually pay off somewhere! Buahaha, mine, all mine.

As I said, I have found memories of growing up in a rural area in New Mexico where life was simple yet rich in many traditions, Halloween being one of them.

H A L L O W E E N  A S  A  P A R E N T

Well wouldn’t you know that I would pass on my love for Halloween to my children? Making costumes, decorating the house to look haunted and of course, taking them trick or treating. I can remember one Halloween where my daughter, Roberta, approximately 4 or 5 years old at the time as she was crossing a yard to get to the door was approached by a cool looking ghoul. She was dressed as a little cowgirl that year. She took one look at the creature that was coming toward her and quickly turned around and took off running for dear life. I had never seen that child move so fast. All she left behind was the little pink cowgirl hat that she was wearing. Problem was, she wasn’t running toward us? She was running down the street. I still don’t know where she thought she was headed. We had to chase her a half way down the block before we caught up to her and settled her down. 

Even my son being a little stronger willed and less easily scared would also have a startled moment or two throughout the years. I think things that come from above or below tend to scare us more than things approaching us from the front or behind. An example of such is a guy hiding in the tree completely camouflaged sitting in wait for his prey, my son. He had perched on a branch above the sidewalk where TOTs would have to walk past to get to the front door. I didn’t even notice him. As we walked underneath him, he sticks out his arm and would just barely brushes my son’s shoulder. Needless to say, my son got a good fright, but after realizing what had happened laughed it off. That was the kind of scare that would make even a young boy scream like a girl.

Not that I encourage scaring little tikes. It’s preferable scaring the older grade school child or the junior high kids. But the ultimate scare is making the macho male with his date or wife flinch or jump from a startle. Getting him to scream, now that’s priceless.