Halloween is one of the strangest holidays or at least what it has become is something outside of the practical observation of our other traditional holidays. The most practical being independence day and new years day where we celebrate events, the independence of our nation and the dawn of a new year. Even thanksgiving and Christmas which have evolved from the events they celebrate, the pilgrims connecting with native Americans in thanks and the birth of Christ, have a sensical nature to them. Halloween is a thing of its own. A bohemian celebration of death, magic, and monsters mired in a creative anarchy full of color, gore, and fun. Like any Holiday though it is different for everyone.
Growing up for me Halloween was predominantly about two things, Candy and Costumes.
Costumes were a mix of what your mom could dig up in the house to resemble something and what you could create out of the other stuff. Not a lot of Gore or scary stuff that was those other kids. We were pirates, hobo's, cross dressers (mom wishing that was those other kids), ninjas, and of course kids bundled up in large coats, hats, and gloves with some resemblances of costumes hanging beneath the coat. We all did a stint as a mummy with toilet paper stringing the school halls as you paraded around for the teachers and parents, masks and weapons and all. By the time you got home the mummy in you had disintegrated and you had to scrape together a new costume that doesn't fall apart as you go. Man I thought I was so cool even when costumes cost my parents nothing and my brothers had all had turns being the same thing years before. When I got older I picked my costume with less influence from my mom. My favorite costume at that point was when I dyed my hair black and surprisingly looked like Jackie Chan so I went as Jackie with a white t-shirt, black pants and newly dyed hair. Probably the only time I actually was cool.
As a kid I was like a Vampire for candy, I would die without it's sweet sustenance and I would kill to get it. My older brothers would come home with their pillowcases three quarters full of candy and proud grins as they poured a mountain on the ground in front of my starving eyes. Yes pillowcases were the ultimate candy holding device, capable of the weight, could be slung over the shoulder, even tied to your belt, and definitely not a plastic pumpkin head whose strap cut at your hand, broke away from the pumpkin when it was heavy and was an eyesore for a well planned costume.
Of course I asked my brothers if I could have some glancing over at my measly pile a tenth of the size of theirs. On occasion they would throw me a piece of something unbeloved like whoppers, Necco, or an Almond Joy, but more often a menacing NO or even a slight push to say my dirty hobo hands were getting too close to their pirate booty. Eventually I would grow to carry the pillowcase, but for now my only free rein was the few blocks of my neighborhood and if I could convince my parents and it was not snowing they would drive me to another friend's neighborhood. It would have been embarrassing having an Oldsmobile Station Wagon following you from house to house but for the fact that every 5 houses or so you would get back in too warm your hands up and the adults would ask if you were done. The answer of course was no, because this was your one chance of the year you had to satiate an insatiable desire for sugar! One that you couldn't kick until well into your adulthood and even creeps back up on you once or twice a year. Well the answer was no until it was yes, a mixture of parents' worry and boredom trying to convince you it was too cold, dark, or late, and your current capacity to handle the reality of how cold, dark, or late it really was.
When I finally donned the pillowcase everything was free game. You went over most of the neighborhoods in town, snob hill with mansions too far apart and really long driveways was always worth it. Its friendly snobs always rewarding you for your efforts with the full size candy bars or handfuls of candy. The party continued as late as 10:00 pm or beyond. When I would finally get home my parents would ask "isn't it a little late to be trick-or-treating?". My answer would be something like "yeah some of them asked that too", or "duh, that's why we stopped", but often it would be "we are almost done, we just came to drop off our candy (it got pretty tiring carrying twenty pounds of candy) and do our neighborhood one more time". Eyes rolled! There were sometimes subtle hints that we had been out long enough when we got yelled at about how late it was and how they were trying to sleep (tv light is glowing and pulsing in the background) "enough is enough". We probably should have walked away after waiting that first minute, but it looked like they were home.
This year my kids, all on a leash, wink wink, will get a trunk or treat or two, downtown business trick-or-treating and our neighborhood. Their costumes are a mix of second hand store, accessories at a price and hand me downs for the littles. They will be paraded around by the wife or me while the other answers the door to a bunch of rascals from all over town who have come to our snob hill of sorts. I don't think we belong here, and we are too cheap and care too much about kids' health to shell out the full size stuff.
Reggie Flake is from Northern Utah
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