Ghoulish memories of Halloweens past
Oct. 26th, 2011 12:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
storytimewithjoeWaking up to a darkened sky and the crisp moist morning air, I had to convince myself that it was indeed time to get up, tempting as it was to just roll back over and snuggle up under our comfortably warm quilt. As I threw the blankets back and swung myself out of bed, the sunlight began to make its way through the trees in the backyard, startling the crows in the old pecan tree into a symphony of squawks the likes of which Hitchcock himself would have believed overstated. In our little nestle of the world, this seasonal ritual of fall signals the end of October, and the approach of that age-old holiday - Halloween.
Despite its ago-old origin as a pagan festival of change, magic, and the end of the harvest; Halloween has turned into one of the more fun and mischievous celebrations of modern society. Fraught with ghouls, political statements, and the silliness of adults behaving like children, Halloween is a decadent time of fun, candy, costume, and the evisceration of pumpkins. And with every creative get-up that I see, I have to look back at my own formative years with a bit of frustration. At the risk of going all “back in MY day”, I would like to invite you all to step back in time several decades (a few more than I’d care to admit) to follow the traces of the little fat kid in a small New England town.
When I was a kid, Halloween was always something to look forward to. After all, it involved all the things that kids loved – candy, staying out late after dark, nummy candy, dressing silly, chocolatey caramel goodness, mischief, and did I mention candy? But… there was a bit of a catch. You know how in an ideal situation, the parents ask the kid, “What do you want to be for Halloween this year?” followed by the kid throwing out a bunch of really cool ideas? Well… such a scenario never played out with me. Why? Well, you see, my parents were not exactly the most creative or artistic types. I don’t recall EVER seeing my mother with a needle and thread. Heck, I think she’d use a staple gun over a needle and thread if she could get away with it. Instead, we relied upon whatever costume could be found at the grocery store. So about a week or so before Halloween, I would wait for mom or dad to come back from the store carrying a cardboard box with my plastic costume for the year. And with dread, I would look through the clear plastic of the outer box to see what I was doomed to become for an evening. What would it be this time? A puppy? A kitten? A bunny rabbit? Yet another bunny rabbit?
With dread, I would try on the costume, knowing that I really had no choice. Sure, my parents meant well, and I appreciated it. But… I really didn’t WANT to be a bunny rabbit! Much less, the costume never fit right or comfortably. The plastic mask cut off the oxygen to my head. The eyeholes didn’t quite match where my eyes went. And I couldn’t breathe. More often than not, I lifted the mask while walking in between each house, just so I could get some fresh air. Then there was the body portion. Talk about a sweat-bag! Solid-plastic body-bag as cheap Halloween costumes were in the 70’s, it is amazing that children didn’t drop dead from dehydration and oxygen depletion! Then there was that chemical reek of plastic and paint fumes adding its own special horror to Halloween. Yet, despite the torture that was the dreaded cheap Halloween costume, it was a means to the all-important goal – the candy! But alas, this was not the only hurdle. In order to successfully Trick or Treat, one had to survive The Slaughter.
I cannot say with any certainty that I understand the origin or practice of Slaughtering, but I think it is safe to say that it comes from the mischievous “trick” portion of Trick or Treating. Slaughtering was something that The Big Kid teenagers typically did. It involved a lot of eggs, a lot of shaving cream, and a huge amount of mess. And for some reason, the thought of getting slaughtered absolutely TERRIFIED me as a child. Of course, whenever I went Trick or Treating, I was always accompanied by my parents or one of my sisters. And that is the only thing that saved me from the massacre that was the egg and shaving-cream fest. So having survived the costume and the slaughter, the path to candy was fairly open. And with the ring of each doorbell, my bag of diabetic badness grew heavier and heavier, as did my tired feet exhausted from the nightly romps and the chemical buzz of my bunny body suit. Yet, there was still one more hurdle to jump prior to the celebration of a good night’s Halloween harvest – the inspection.
Ever since the advent of razor-blades in apples and gods only know what else, it has become standard and smart practice for parents to inspect the candy-haul prior to anybody gorging themselves inadvertently on Drano. Yet, for some reason, my candy-haul had to go through several inspections by several Adults prior to me getting to jump in. At the time, I assumed it was normal for mom and dad and several of the sisters to have to inspect all the candy prior to me getting to review the haul. But I did notice the bag growing lighter and lighter after each inspection. Oddly enough, the “lesser” candies such as the dreaded icky candy-corn and circus peanuts never got touched. But the chocolatey goodness seemed to disappear in fairly regular intervals. I didn’t notice this at first. But as the years went on, and I found myself on bunny costume #5, I thought to myself, “Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… wait a minute!”
Ah yes, the rituals of Halloween. Candles in Jack-o’lanterns… kids being mischievous… naughty pranks… and candy-goodness. And just like the crows in the pecan tree, they signal a farewell to the summertime heat, and the ushering in of a slower time, the falling of the leaves, and the approach of a slumbering winter season.
Happy Halloween everybody!
Despite its ago-old origin as a pagan festival of change, magic, and the end of the harvest; Halloween has turned into one of the more fun and mischievous celebrations of modern society. Fraught with ghouls, political statements, and the silliness of adults behaving like children, Halloween is a decadent time of fun, candy, costume, and the evisceration of pumpkins. And with every creative get-up that I see, I have to look back at my own formative years with a bit of frustration. At the risk of going all “back in MY day”, I would like to invite you all to step back in time several decades (a few more than I’d care to admit) to follow the traces of the little fat kid in a small New England town.
When I was a kid, Halloween was always something to look forward to. After all, it involved all the things that kids loved – candy, staying out late after dark, nummy candy, dressing silly, chocolatey caramel goodness, mischief, and did I mention candy? But… there was a bit of a catch. You know how in an ideal situation, the parents ask the kid, “What do you want to be for Halloween this year?” followed by the kid throwing out a bunch of really cool ideas? Well… such a scenario never played out with me. Why? Well, you see, my parents were not exactly the most creative or artistic types. I don’t recall EVER seeing my mother with a needle and thread. Heck, I think she’d use a staple gun over a needle and thread if she could get away with it. Instead, we relied upon whatever costume could be found at the grocery store. So about a week or so before Halloween, I would wait for mom or dad to come back from the store carrying a cardboard box with my plastic costume for the year. And with dread, I would look through the clear plastic of the outer box to see what I was doomed to become for an evening. What would it be this time? A puppy? A kitten? A bunny rabbit? Yet another bunny rabbit?
With dread, I would try on the costume, knowing that I really had no choice. Sure, my parents meant well, and I appreciated it. But… I really didn’t WANT to be a bunny rabbit! Much less, the costume never fit right or comfortably. The plastic mask cut off the oxygen to my head. The eyeholes didn’t quite match where my eyes went. And I couldn’t breathe. More often than not, I lifted the mask while walking in between each house, just so I could get some fresh air. Then there was the body portion. Talk about a sweat-bag! Solid-plastic body-bag as cheap Halloween costumes were in the 70’s, it is amazing that children didn’t drop dead from dehydration and oxygen depletion! Then there was that chemical reek of plastic and paint fumes adding its own special horror to Halloween. Yet, despite the torture that was the dreaded cheap Halloween costume, it was a means to the all-important goal – the candy! But alas, this was not the only hurdle. In order to successfully Trick or Treat, one had to survive The Slaughter.
I cannot say with any certainty that I understand the origin or practice of Slaughtering, but I think it is safe to say that it comes from the mischievous “trick” portion of Trick or Treating. Slaughtering was something that The Big Kid teenagers typically did. It involved a lot of eggs, a lot of shaving cream, and a huge amount of mess. And for some reason, the thought of getting slaughtered absolutely TERRIFIED me as a child. Of course, whenever I went Trick or Treating, I was always accompanied by my parents or one of my sisters. And that is the only thing that saved me from the massacre that was the egg and shaving-cream fest. So having survived the costume and the slaughter, the path to candy was fairly open. And with the ring of each doorbell, my bag of diabetic badness grew heavier and heavier, as did my tired feet exhausted from the nightly romps and the chemical buzz of my bunny body suit. Yet, there was still one more hurdle to jump prior to the celebration of a good night’s Halloween harvest – the inspection.
Ever since the advent of razor-blades in apples and gods only know what else, it has become standard and smart practice for parents to inspect the candy-haul prior to anybody gorging themselves inadvertently on Drano. Yet, for some reason, my candy-haul had to go through several inspections by several Adults prior to me getting to jump in. At the time, I assumed it was normal for mom and dad and several of the sisters to have to inspect all the candy prior to me getting to review the haul. But I did notice the bag growing lighter and lighter after each inspection. Oddly enough, the “lesser” candies such as the dreaded icky candy-corn and circus peanuts never got touched. But the chocolatey goodness seemed to disappear in fairly regular intervals. I didn’t notice this at first. But as the years went on, and I found myself on bunny costume #5, I thought to myself, “Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… wait a minute!”
Ah yes, the rituals of Halloween. Candles in Jack-o’lanterns… kids being mischievous… naughty pranks… and candy-goodness. And just like the crows in the pecan tree, they signal a farewell to the summertime heat, and the ushering in of a slower time, the falling of the leaves, and the approach of a slumbering winter season.
Happy Halloween everybody!
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 08:02 pm (UTC)My mother claims that I ruined Halloween for her in my constant attempts to create the most realistic costume possible. ;P
Now that I'm something which approximates a grown-up, I can invest as much time and resources into my costume as I please, and ramp up the realism to my heart (and budget)'s content. :D
I DO miss the trick-or-treating, though.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-26 09:00 pm (UTC)Our area used to have Mischief Night, which was Oct. 30. It started out with pranking people's houses (not people), but then it started to get destructive, and then one year, poof, it all stopped, and no one ever spoke of it again. Very odd, that.
I'm also just old enough to remember *before* the whole razorblades scare.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-27 01:34 am (UTC)We never had Slaughter in any of the areas we lived. We did have Hell Night/Mischief Night when we were in Indiana though. Of course I never participated in that. That I will admit to. :D