Everything you ever wanted to be

It’s Halloween time.  The autumn leaves are turning colors of the season.  Orange and brown leaves hang on the branches, dangling by a thread.  The air is crisp and cool at night.  The moon seems brighter in the dark sky, at times thrusting its light through cloudy skies and casting creepy halos.  If you listen carefully, you can hear the low moans of ghosts, goblins, and werewolves.  Zombies, mummies, skeletons, and other monsters, followed by an occasional ambulatory yellow M&M, lumber down the streets.  Black dotted lady bugs, yellow and black striped bumble bees, chubby orange pumpkins, and little green dragons, the smallest of the costumed caricatures, bury their heads in festively decorated bags as each sweet nugget is dropped into their sack.  The older, more experienced costumed crew race to the houses doling out the biggest candy bars.

Simplicity and brown grocery sacks full of giant candy bars are reminiscent of past seasons.  Painted clowns, sheeted ghosts, swashbuckling pirates donning an eye patch and a bandana, black cats and fuzzy one-piece zippered sleepers turned bunnies, wand wielding princesses, smocked doctors wearing toy stethoscopes have made way for more sophisticated costumes of the day.  Smurfs and Strawberry Shortcake are back for a new season.  Brightly colored caped superheroes are in abundance.  Halloween mega stores and lawns turned cobwebbed cemeteries dot the neighborhoods.  Paths to doors draped as elaborate spook alleys howl an invitation to the decked out passersby.

My grandchildren plan for months what they want to be for Halloween, persuaded by Mom’s budget and practicality.  Last year it was Harry Potter (“he can always wear the jacket after Halloween”) and a fairy princess (“I can use the same costume for a fairy-themed birthday party”).  The youngest doesn’t yet understand the excitement of the night, but doesn’t complain when dressed up as a pirate or one of Robin Hood’s Merry Men.  While my oldest son, Hot Wheelz, now an adult, once envisioned being Darth Vader (okay, maybe in his vision Luke’s nemesis was not wearing a football helmet) or my youngest daughter, Coco, dreamed of being a “Beauty” in a frilly dress (she carried a foil wrapped stick dubbed a wand), my grandchildren wear more thoughtfully planned costumes under the creative tutelage of their mom.

Still no matter how long we parents labor over costumes, some don’t turn out like planned.  I know.  The little fairy lost her wand early on.  The Emperor flour-paste plastered face (looking more like the Grim Reaper) was irritating and itchy.  The skeleton ripped the seat of his hand-designed black jumpsuit painted with white unsymmetrical bones.  The hula skirts fashioned from crepe paper dripped green puddles during one rainy Halloween.  The cute little pumpkin whose belly was rounded out with wadded newspapers sulked while marching in the costume parade because she’d wanted to be a princess.

If you have to post a sign around your kid’s neck so others can tell who they are, maybe you ought to rethink the costume.  My daughter the GAP, now a mother herself, was disappointed not everyone knew the elaborate white wolf costume was Max from Where the Wild Things Are, and kind of bummed that other trick or treaters kept stepping on her toddler’s long white tail.  Only one old man answering the doorbell recognized my granddaughter, a petite Shirley Temple in blond ringlets, wearing a blue and white sailor dress.  “Marge, come to the door,” he hollered.  “You’ve got to see this little girl.”

Family theme from long ago

Times have changed.  Children AND parents now dress up to themes.  No more last minute costumes.  Grabbing a stick, a kerchief and a smear of charcoal for a dirty-faced hobo, or raiding Mom’s belongings for strands of costume jewelry and a long colorful gypsy skirt are no longer acceptable.  Costumes once thrown together from the depths of closets and attics now require hours of preparation.  This year our family theme is leaning towards Peanuts.  My grandson, the Bug, will be Charley Brown; my granddaughter, the Worm, will be Sally; the young Mouse will be Snoopy; my daughter the GAP will be Lucy, and my son-in-law will be Linus.  You have to admit seeing a six-foot-three man in short pants carrying a blanket will be good.  Trick or Treating has become an extended family adventure, I want to be Woodstock.  My youngest grandson loves birds and and that’s good enough for me.  Grandpa Couponman can occupy his usual spot – the doghouse.

But the one thing hasn’t changed.  Children still run delightfully from house to house, gleefully collecting bagfuls of sugary treats.  Or maybe two things remain… dads still enjoy rifling through bags of treats (my dad called it ‘inspecting’) after the children are fast asleep.

So whatever you are on that spooky night — princess, superhero, ghost, witch, goblin, Dracula, or parent in the wings… however you obtain your stash — trick or treating, trunk or treating (the new candy mall idea), or secondhand while the little ones slumber… in whatever weather — gentle autumn evening, first snow flurry, or cold dark night… may your evening be filled with Good and Plenty treats, Starbursts of light to take you safely from door to door, and Mounds of memories in the making.

Happy Halloween to all.

Be sure to check out Polite Society Magazine for this article (under Just for Fun) and more stories in the October ”Mystery” issue.

Related posts:

1. Halloween on a budget
2. I need a vacation from my vacation
3. I’m old enough to be thankful
4. Tacky & sappy but merry wishes to you all
5. Long ago in the land of milk and cookies