Halloween

In some ways, I didn't have a normal childhood.  I think I lucked out with a loving family and parents who instilled strong values from an early age, and I remember being happy as a kid.  But there were a few things we did without.  One of them is the annual tradition of Trick-or-Treating.  I'm not sure the exact emanation of this restriction, whether it was a result of living in a large metropolitan area which made unsupervised kids prowling the streets at night (yes, ours was always the night of the actual Halloween, not this safe afternoon of family togetherness practiced in the Ohio suburbs), or if it had to do with religious convictions (after all, we did manage to attend our church's "Fall Carnival" in costumes).  Either way, my sister and I were safely at home during Trick-or-Treating, sometimes passing out candy to the groups of children whose parents permitted them outside in the dark.  One year, my sister decided we needed to at least have a photo of us going door to door begging for free candy, so one afternoon we put on costumes and walked down the street to a house that had just been constructed but was still vacant, and took turns posing for the camera like we were actually knocking on the door and treats were forthcoming.  We moved to Ohio when I was 12, apparently not too old to keep participating in Halloween, and so I asked my mom to bring home scrubs and a lab coat from her hospital, put red paint on my hands, and walked around the block collecting candy.  It didn't really seem fun, especially since that year it SNOWED on the afternoon in question, and I didn't know to put on extra layers under my costume to keep me warm.  The next year, I joined my best friend, Melissa, and we went around her neighborhood.  This time I dressed in the poodle skirt my mom had made for a choir performance the previous spring and a warm sweater, although the sun shone brightly and it was not so miserable to be outside.  But then an old man yelled at me for walking on his grass, and I have been baffled ever since at someone chiding me for walking on grass.  I mean, what is it for, except to play on and walk through?  Otherwise cement your lot and paint it green.  It's grass, not your collection of 45s dude.

So that was it.  That was my lifelong experience of Halloween.  When I had children of my own, it didn't seem like a necessary tradition to take part it; after all, the weather is sketchy most years, and why do we want to fill a basket with candy for our kids?  It makes them hyper and cranky, and we spend 364 days a year trying to prevent them from eating it, then one day go out and let them load up on it.  This makes no sense.  But I think the ultimate reason for my embargo on Halloween is that I didn't do it as a kid.  There is no special place in my heart for chilly walks in a thin Batman suit to talk to complete strangers, all for the purpose of collecting a hit or miss supply of free candy.  But my husband does.  As I posted previously, I value our differences.  So every October, I put together costumes for my children (and luckily with boys, its pretty easy to find thick, fleecy ensembles that cover heads and hands), I charge the battery in the camera, and we stroll through the neighborhood trick-or-treating.  I had to miss last year, due to my debilitating ankle sprain, and so I rested at home in a Vicodin haze while Chris carted around 3 little boys.  This year, so far, I have stayed out of the hospital, and was therefore on hand to witness some Halloween fun.  In the rain.  With the temperature hovering right around 40 degrees.  I watched my five year old confidently strut up driveways and collect candy and say "Thank you" as he was turning away, then pull his pant legs up so they wouldn't get wet around the bottom.  Winston, my fearless boy, marched up to one lady and wished her a "Happy Ween".  When she asked "How are you?", Winston spoke in a voice so loud I heard it in the street, "I'm 3!"  And he proudly held his bucket in front of him and declared, "Oh, I get so much candy!"  Our little Bubby, who is not yet walking and fell asleep after about 20 minutes outside, charmed everyone in his penguin suit.  This is what I would have missed if I did everything my way.  Even though I can't wrap my mind around the point of it, I forget to question when I have a Charms BlowPop in my mouth.  Someday, my boys will decide for themselves what they want to do at the end of October.  And I can go back to being the crank who turns off her lights and treats it like any other Sunday afternoon.