HALLOWE'EN

I am not one of those Scrooges who hates Hallowe'en. (Yes, I know that's a mixed metaphor, but I'm pretty sure Scrooge hated Hallowe'en as much as he hated Christmas.) I am still old fashioned enough about it to spell it the old way we leaned in school with an apostrophe (Hallowe'en) instead of this new fangled way without the apostrophe (Halloween). Who gave them permission to alter the contraction for "even" (as in All Hallows Even)? Is this some plot by the liberals trying to change everything, or maybe the religious conservative trying to destroy Hallowe'en altogether? One way or another, there's dirty work afoot.

When I was growing up Hallowe'en was the harbinger of the holiday season. The sign that were had arrived at a special time of year was that on Hallowe'en we were allowed to scarf down all the candy we could wheedle out of the neighbors. Candy was a rationed commodity at our house. Mom was one of those modern mothers who believed the foolish opinions of dentists who think that candy is harmful to children. Why do humans have two sets of teeth if not to cover the likelihood that the first set will rot out from indulging in jawbreakers, licorice, chocolate creams, M & Ms, gum drops, jelly beans, Milky Ways, Goobers, and whatever other delights come from the confectioner's imagination? Not so at our house. Candy was doled out with the same parsimony as Scrooge paying Bob Cratchit his wages. So Hallowe'en was a candy bonanza. You had to get it all down on the day, however. By November 1 all remaining candy was confiscated and disappeared into Dad's lunch.

The first challenge of Hallowe'en was to pick a suitable costume. When you were little, you're mom provided one. I had a cowboy outfit I must have worn a few times. Then there were all these old clothes that we had gotten from our grandmother than made great Gypsy costumes. Hobo costumes were popular among boys. It didn't take much but an old shirt and some burn cork on the face. (WARNING: Always be sure the cork has completely cooled before rubbing it on your face. It can leave you with a permanently altered complexion otherwise.) I tired go in a costume I made myself of Emperor Ming from the old Flash Gordon movies. I even painted my face with yellow tempera paint Big disappointment. Nobody knew who I was supposed to be. Even worse was the year I went in a homemade Dracula costume, complete with wax fangs. My sister went in a bride's dress, and somebody thought I was the minister. Goodness, you don't think that scarred my psyche so that I became a minister to disguise my secret longing to be a vampire? Bleah, bleah. Can you tell me the vay to the blood bank. I vant to make a vithdrawal. Bleah. Hoo boy.

In good old Chicago we started trick or treating as soon as we got home from school, while it was still light. You wanted to get in as many places as possible before supper time. In seventh grade our ding-dong teacher said we shouldn't say "trick or treat" because that was threatening people. We should say, "treats please." Come off it. People would think you were nuts. It's taken 40 years to get back at her, but I modeled the villain in my novel Not All is as You See after her.

Where I lived people wanted to see who was under the mask when you trick or treated them. Neighborhood kids got better goodies than strangers from the next block. At least that's what we were told. Now, what were good treats? Pennies were good, nickels even better. Dimes were unheard of. I my view candy bars were ranked with Milky Ways on top, then Snickers, Three Musketeers, Baby Ruths, and Butterfingers on the bottom. I am amazed that several of the kids I know actually prefer Butterfingers. What is the matter with the youth of America? Bubble gum was pretty good. Hard candy only so so. Apples weren't the worst–I happened to like them–but you could get those at home anytime because they were healthy. Who wants healthy food at Halloween? The absolute worst treats (hardy a treat at all) were popcorn balls. I'm not sure what they put on popcorn to make it stick together as a ball, but I think it was horsehide glue. Why would people waste time making these things when they could go to the store and buy a perfectly respectable candy bar to give away? Most adults have this odd notion that homemade stuff is better than store bought. No it isn't. Anything advertised on TV is bound to be better than something cooked up in someone's kitchen. Store bought stuff is full of tasty chemicals and preservatives that no kitchen stocks.

There were years when Hallowe'en fell on Saturday. Oh, what a day that was–all day to trick or treat. One Saturday stands out in my mind. I think it was late morning when the trick or treating started. The door bell rang and my mother went to answer it. I think she had actually put the candy in the bag before she realized the trick or treater was my grandmother. Grandma had dressed in an old denim jacket and my grandfather's old cap. It was a good disguise. She then headed to my Aunt and Uncle's house around the block and pull the same trick. For several years she entered the spirit of Hallowe'en with the same routine, only now everyone was prepared for her with a special bag of candy.

I moved off on my own, but I still look forward to Hallowe'en only I'm the one passing out the candy. Well, at first I tried raisins because they were healthier. Most of the kids hated them. I've only found one lad after me own heart who likes raisins. His picture is at the end of this blog. I tried dimes for a while, but the kids thought I was only giving pennies. So, I moved on to Snickers and Milk Way bars, small ones, but not the teeny-tiny ones. Here in Florida, no one starts trick or treating until after dark, so some years I miss most of the kids because I'm out for evening meetings or things.

As in my day, little kids are dragged around in a daze dressed in costumes their moms find cute. Older kids still put together their own outfits. Some inventive, some not. I have to say I was startled one year by a boy around 12 dressed in a girl's cheerleader outfit, but Hallowe'en is Hallowe'en. At least he had a costume. Some of the boys don't bother. They just stick a pillowcase in the doorway and collect the loot–sometimes returning several times if it's something they like. Most of the kids say thank you, which gives me hope for the future.

A couple of things bother me about 21st century Hallowe'en. As with everything else, the commercialism has gone to an extreme. A few years back Hallowe'em lights appeared to decorate your home. In my day decorations consisted of a Jack-o-lantern in the window and maybe paper cutouts of black cats or something. The stores not only sell candy and costumes, but all sorts of odd stuff. Who needs silk boxer shorts with pumpkins or ghosts on them. Wait. Never mind. I just remembered the guys who live around here who wear their pants down around their knees.

The other thing that disturbs me is the increasing number of "Judgement Houses." These are religious equivalents of the Haunted Houses. The idea is that you show kids what it's going to be like when they are sent to hell from being a non-believer. That's supposed to scare the hell out of them, I guess. I've never heard of that working, For that matter, I have never heard of anyone going over to the side of Satan because they wore a witch costume on Hallowe'en. It's always seem to me that if you make fun of that sort of stuff–witches, ghosts, monsters, werewolves, vampires–you defang the notion of the occult, so to speak. And I don't buy the idea that dressing up in nice costumes is better than wearing scary costumes. Well yes, a five-year-old princess is much more pleasant than a fourteen-year-old carrying his head under his arm, but clowns are not amusing. Most little kids are terrified of clowns. So am I, and of mimes, and weird people who do street theater. I'm also afraid of politicians, but I'm writing about that next week.

In any case, Hallowe'en came about as the evening before All Saints' Day, November 1. So fellow saints, may the Lord God bless you on your way and greet you on your arrival.

Wayne