It's often said that the holidays are never quite as magical as when we were kids. Growing up, Generation-Xers spent lots of time on our own. Many of our parents were divorced, or about to be. Happy holiday memories from early childhood are especially, painfully precious.
Since those days, I'd say enthusiasm for Halloween has been inconsistent at best- depending on where you live. The number of trick-or-treaters can be counted on one hand. Maybe you get none at all.
It has become a thing to simply turn an exterior light on or off to coincide with one’s willingness to give out candy. In the condominiums where I lived in the early 2000’s, those of us who chose to participate had to tape a consent form to our front door to indicate to the dwindled few that they may, in fact, knock on it.
But Halloween in Audubon, Pennsylvania, in the 1970’s-80's... there was nothing like it. For us it was just as big a deal as Christmas. We’d rush home after school and plunge ourselves into huge piles of leaves, all the while darting in and out of the house to check the clock. At 5:00 we’d head home for the traditional Halloween dinner- a hot dog. Though usually accompanied by a scoop of baked beans, there'd be no time for those tonight. We have to get ready!
Our road looped around in a hilly horseshoe. There was one house, year after year, that always stood completely dark. Maybe they’re mean, or they don’t like children, or weren’t home. As it turned out, these neighbors were Jehovah’s Witnesses. Okay. They get a religious exemption. The only reason we knew what that meant was because we were OBSESSED with Michael Jackson. The Jacksons were raised as Jehovah’s Witnesses. They don’t celebrate holidays. No birthdays, none of it. Poor Michael.
In our most ambitious years when we were at our prime, we just couldn’t be stopped. Our pillowcases already heavy with the local candy, we'd jump into my dad's 1975, two-toned green Dodge van for the five minute drive Grandmom's neighborhood, the townhouses in Eagleville- for greed's ultimate reward.
We were strictly forbidden to eat any of our candy until our parents picked out their favorites-- I mean, checked for razors. We had to spill everything out onto the kitchen table for inspection. Dad would pluck out any obvious pieces of black licorice, which he loved and I hated, along with all the Sugar Daddies. He held up one of the milk caramel lollipops.
"See this? Read what this says… It says, THESE ARE FOR DADDIES."
Can you recall your every costume, in chronological order? I've tried but they get jumbled up in my brain. I remember one year I was Raggedy Ann. The next Halloween I was a fairytale princess, complete with hot-curled hair and tiara. I wore a white lace ball gown with real hoops inside. It got caught on the shrubs and holly bushes of every house we hit. Never doing that princess shit again. The following year, and the one after that, I was a black cat. Stealthy, agile, much easier. But by the next Halloween I was ready for something new and different.
A computer. That’s it! I'll be an Apple II E computer.
I began construction on the box that would become my costume. I made the screen from dark green cellophane, attached a smaller box to one side, cut out the bottom and stapled a bag to it. That was the floppy disc drive, and where the candy would be inserted. Since I wanted it to be as realistic as possible, I would have to keep my head inside the box.
About halfway to Mockingbird Lane, I knew this particular Halloween was going to suck. After just a half-dozen treats or so, my bag ripped. I could barely see where I was going. Then, it rained.
In what would be our final year as trick-or-treaters, Molly and I dressed up as Hans & Franz. They were characters in the Saturday Night Live skit, based on Arnold Schwarzenegger in his bodybuilding days. We borrowed sweatshirts and sweatpants that were too big and stuffed them with a bunch of rolled up bath towels. We wanted to be as realistic as possible. Therefore we each carried with us one of her dad’s dumbbells. Real dumbbells.
Molly's older, wiser sister advised against this, to no avail.
You’re taking those around with you?
Yeah! It’s part of our costume!
Staying in character, we collected our candy enroute to Falcon Drive. The plan was to meet up with our friend Chantelle at the midway point and then journey on late into the evening. But by the time we reached the far corner of Mourning Dove Road- weight in one hand, half bagful of goodies in the other- we knew we had to reassess the situation.
It would seem that despite our most sincere efforts, we weren’t being realistic.
We turned back toward home.
Starting in early September, my sister transforms her family’s home into a shrine to her favorite holiday. Every room in the house is dripping with beautifully spooky decor. No one loves Halloween more than Kathleen.
Thank The Great Pumpkin they live in a neighborhood that properly geeks out as well. Jack-o-’lanterns, witches, grim reapers and gravestones abound. The trees are adorned in orange and purple lights.
The house around the corner has the greatest Halloween display I've encountered in over forty years. Each piece is equipped with motion sensors. There are gigantic skeletons, an even larger werewolf dressed in a flannel shirt the headless horseman, red-eyed ghosts that billow in the breeze, seemingly suspended in mid-air. My favorite piece is the magnificently terrifying dragon that roars out steamy breath in ever-changing colors.
When I was riding my bicycle a few days ago I spotted the homeowner and his two young daughters adding still more to the spectacle. One was testing out the newly installed spider, at least three times her size. When you come within a certain distance, it crawls toward you with its eight fuzzy legs and eight glowing eyes.
You'll have to start charging admission, as I slowed to a stop. This is absolutely incredible!
"Thank you... It's funny, I used to hate Halloween when I was little."
My stupefied expression spurred him to explain, "I was just so afraid of all of it. I used to cry, No bones! No bones!"
Well you've certainly outgrown that, haven't you?
"I sure did..." beaming at his little ones, "because of them! It's all because of the kids!"
It was magical. Still is.
