Missing Halloween (10/27/03)

I miss Halloween. This is the only place I have lived where I don’t celebrate the holiday. I don’t celebrate it because the first few years we lived here we had less than five youngsters visit the house. There were 10 or 20 adults who rang the doorbell. I don’t give candy to grown-ups. These weren’t teenagers having a last fling at childhood or collecting for UNICEF. They were every bit as old as I was and should have been home passing out their own candy.

The first year I was married we distributed Halloween goodies and ran out shortly after the first hour. I sent my husband to the grocery for more. Then the neighbor ran out of candy and she sent her husband to get more treats for both of our houses. He came back with full-size bars of chocolate which we dutifully dropped into the sacks of the goblins on the steps.

This annual custom continued every fall without fail until we moved to Portland. Before we came here we lived on a dead-end street that was only a block long. It was the home of the most creative costumes I have ever seen. One pair of sisters came as a toaster and toast. Another little girl came as a computer and her dog was dressed as a hobo. The dog even carried its own bag. I added a dog biscuit to its growing collection.

I only remember trick or treating once when I was a child. I made the most of that year. Friday, I went to Lewisburg with one girlfriend, on Saturday I went to Verona with another girlfriend and on Sunday I went to Ithaca with my cousin.

I was a clown. I wore my mother’s striped pajamas and the bottoms kept falling down. I thought it was inconvenient because I kept tripping over them. The people we visited thought it was cute and gave me extra treats! I ended up with an entire pillowcase full of candy, apples and popcorn balls. I threw away the popcorn balls. It was just the beginning of the “needles in the apples” scare so those were carefully sliced up for the horses. I had enough candy to last forever.

I realize that Halloween started out as an adult holiday. Like most holidays, it is a marriage of many celebrations and traditions. The Celts celebrated their new year on November 1. They believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth on the eve of the new year. People dressed up in costumes to fool the spirits into thinking they were spirits also.

After the Romans conquered the Celts they added their own holidays commemorating the dead and the day to honor Pomona, the Roman goddess of fruit and trees to the Celtic holiday. Then the Christians mixed in All Saints Day to honor the saints. The English added All Souls Day, also a day to honor the dead.

America gave the holiday its own unique twist. The English practice of passing out pastries to the poor evolved into miniature beggars in search of a sugar high. The Irish tradition of a lighted turnip evolved into carved pumpkins lit by candles. Dressing up to frighten the spirits away became small children dressed as their favorite cartoon characters. A once religious festival has become completely secular and innocent.

I have been warned that this year will be different. We are expecting a visit from a little beggar. One of my co-workers has promised to bring her three-year-old over if I promise not to give him chocolate. I’m looking forward to hearing “trick or treat” for the first time in years.[[In-content Ad]]