Halloween

I'm sure out there tonight in cyberspace (God I hate that term), there are zillions of blogs written by no-namers like myself also titled "Halloween".  Oh well.  I have a few things I want to say, and they're mostly all Halloween-related, so I'm going to go ahead and use the unimaginative title I've chosen, and save my creativity for the text below:

I was never quite sure what to make of Halloween as a child.  First of all, I was always stumped by what to wear.  Ever the girl, I would get flustered at the idea of choosing a costume, trying to imagine one that wouldn't look ugly, stupid, or be too common in my classroom.  Sadly, I usually left it too late, and having little choice in the few stores of my tiny hometown, I usually ended up being what I most hated - lame.  I think my best year I was Minnie Mouse.  My parents shelled out the money for a plastic, garbage-bag-thin costume that ripped immediately upon leaving room temperature.  Coupled with the fact my folks made me wear my winter coat inside of the costume and it was destined never to last longer than one short evening's term.  Sigh.  I could have been Minnie forever.

The next costume that I can recall I was given was a hand-sewn witch's gown which my mother lovingly made for me in her ever-so-clever way.  However, this beautifully sewn costume turned out to be more a curse than a blessing as for the next 5 or 6 years as it would "haunt" me every halloween.  First, a witch.  Maybe even a few years of being a witch.  At first of course I didn't mind, but eventually a young girl longs to be a princess, a fairy, or even as I recall my mid 1980's self request to my mother, a "punk rocker", but an ugly green-faced witch?  Oh dear.

Next, my long black gown transformed* (* = stayed the same), and I was suddenly no longer a witch but an exotic "sorcerer".  Wow.  Next up?  Death.  Saddled with a new hood and a plastic wheat sheath smeared with red nail polish, I was now the sexy symbol of death.  And...  wait for it...  just when my imagination couldn't get any more wild that black god forsaken costume yet again reappeared and I was a magical wizard.  A WIZARD!  I remember helping Mom glue on a golden crescent moon and star to the front of the gown and I may have even made a hat with stars and a wand.  Talk about cool?  No.  My peers were dressed up a rock stars, Barbie, Madonna, and I was a Wizard.  A MALE Halloween icon, at that.  No wonder I never dated ever.

So, you see, for me Halloween in the sense of dressing up and being excited about a new costume and pretending to be something that I wasn't really wasn't in the cards for me.  It wasn't my thing.  And, to be honest, even with an entire department stores' selection of gaudy plastic costumes for me to choose from at the time, chances are I'd have chosen to be a giant green M&M anyway.  Not a whole lot better.  Or a cat, but not today's sexy version, probably one with a big puffy fluffy tummy and a really long tail that I'd trip over from time to time on my way to the Cheetos bowl.

When it came to "Holidays" like Halloween, I was also a bit of a homebody.  Okay, when it came/comes to most facets in my life I am a homebody, and for Halloween this stayed the case.  I never wanted to go trick or treating with my friends, running door to door in all sorts of different neighbourhoods, trying to get all the candy that was humanly possible in one evening.  Why would I do that?  My family had a TRADITION for this night and I'd be a dead sorcerer before I broke that, my friend.

My father would accompany my brother and me around our neighbourhood.  We would start at the same house, and end at the same house, and take the same route in between, year after year.  Dad would trail us with our cloth reusable Co-op store bags (we made reusable bags the "it" thing to do, don't ya know?) so once our plastic pumpkins were full we could unload our goodies.  Rarely would someone come along with us.  For rare one evening, it was just me and my brother and my dad, doing our thing.  I felt a connection with my brother, who, by the way, always managed to come up with an awesome costume just using stuff around the house - jerk.  I could care less about my friends on this spooky night.  I wanted my Dad, my brother, my loot, and hopefully by the time we got home, a pumpkin-shaped cake baked and iced by Super Mom while we were out, and a special Halloween edition of The Simpson's and Charley Brown.

I'll never forget the first year my brother either felt too old to go trick or treating, or did so with his friends, and I went out alone.  Ever the traditionalist, I still went, dad in tow, following our old route by my lonesome.  I was death.  And it was death - the death of a little piece of my childhood.  I remember feeling silly, and later, angry that my brother got two whole years of good Halloweens than I got, simply because I was younger and he quit on me before my time.  I went home that year and cried.  Yes, a child crying on Halloween, because I came to the realization that my trick or treating days were over.

I was a sensitive child.  I cried over the end of Halloween for me as a kid.  I cried when I turned 10, as I'd never be a single-digit-age ever again (this is true).  I cried when we went from 1989 to 1990 as we'd never be in the 80's again (this is true - how silly!  I should have been sick with joy those god awful years were over!!).  I cried when I figured out Christmas and Santa, even though I knew for a while but didn't WANT to KNOW, but finally felt silly and admitted it to my mother.  I guess for me anything related to finality or change brings on the waterworks.

As I grew older and entered university, I still was perplexed by the enthusiasm people spent on Halloween.  All the fuss and bother of fake police tape, strange spider webbing, disgusting face paint and fake blood.  True to my roots I was always awful with dreaming up costumes and relied heavily on my residence mates to help me in that matter.  In this stage of my life I recall being caught up in a new version of halloween that sometimes resulted in fun care packages from home, crazy parties in my residence, and a small distraction from my studies.

Next up my early working days.  Now I figured Halloween was simply an excuse for men to dress up like something funny, and for women to dress up in something slightly* inappropriately seductive at work (*extremely, in Quebec and french-speaking parts of New Brunswick).  Never before had I taken note of so many "sexy nurses" or "sexy pirates" or "sexy cats".  Good lord.  Where were all the witches?  Oh, right, they're now "sexy witches".  Every costume I saw for sale geared towards a woman was a few inches of spandex short of naked.  I mean really?  Is this what Halloween really is for grown women?  A chance to show off our boobs in a costume we'd be utterly embarrassed if our fathers or brothers saw us in?  All the while men dress as something funny - a man riding a giant chicken.  That sort of awesomeness.

And now.  My Halloween now.  Now of course it's all about the kids.  I bake cupcakes, I ice cookies, I decorate my home, I buy pumpkins, but not for me or party guests - for them.  I want them to always remember that we made an effort and had a tradition of "doing something" for Halloween.  I'm trying to instil in them the notion that even a crazy holiday like Halloween can be another way for our family to be together and bond.  I want my kids to look back on photos and think of memories where they were a team, dressed in some sort of theme (monkey and banana, hamburger and cupcake), going out together because they wanted to, not because they had to.  Because they chose their sibling over their friends when it's not en vogue.  I want to talk to Joshua when he's about to give it all up, see if I can convince him to give it a go one more year so that his little sister isn't left behind.  When they're older, I'll put on old episodes of The Simpson's when we get home from trick or treating, and I'll have cake and milk all set.  We'll carve pumpkins and see who can make the scariest, and I'll roast the seeds to go in their school lunches the next day.  We'll have fun.  We'll make memories.  We'll be a team.

That inner witch in me is casting a spell on them.  We'll see if it works.