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What a treat is Halloween! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! When I was a little back in a middle-class suburb of Independence Missouri, I believed in fantastical beings. I believed Dorothy had a lion for a friend. I believed there was a funny looking sailor who ate spinach (which I actually liked myself) and saved Olive Oil from Brutus. And I couldn't wait for Halloween. In the weeks leading up to Halloween, my sister and I made up our own costumes and my craftsy Mom loved to help. It was safe to walk around the 10-house cul de sac and the loot from just these 10 houses was enough to keep my mother insane for at least a week. When I got to college, the costumes started becoming really creative. One Halloween we were supposed to pick a book and come as that book – the title, a character, the author. My friends were creative and intense – and so were their costumes. Of course, there were the few that liked us to ‘guess’ what they were – because their costumes were puzzles as well as costumes. When I moved to Boulder Colorado in the early 70s, I had no idea that my idea of Halloween costuming was…well…so Midwestern. In all the years growing up in Mid-America, not one single person ever dressed up as a condom. But, in those days, the Pearl Street Mall was THE place to be on Halloween. The bars were open, music could be heard up and down the Mall and the costumes! Oh my! I think my favorite – just for inventiveness – was the 7-person ‘ambulance’ complete with 4 wheels, a driver, a patient hooked to an IV and a nurse. My best friends, Peg and Chris, dressed up as dice – Pair-a-dice, as Boulder was for us 20 somethings. Then I got busy being an adult. Every year I figured out what minimalist outfit I could throw together at the last minute. When I was a busy single mom, my go-to outfit was street clothes with a cereal box with a steak knife stuck in it (serial killer, get it?). My focus was helping my highly imaginative keep from conceiving such an impossibly imaginative costume that I would be hard-pressed to help him make happen. He’s been a pirate, a Conquistador, a Civil War Soldier, a WWII soldier. (There’s a theme here.) And he’s been a troll. He made a really good troll. Just the right size. Over the years, though, living in Tucson meant Halloween took on an entirely different cultural meaning. I love to visit the Hispanic cemeteries during Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. What a loving, family ceremony! Hispanic families with food, music and sometimes even sofas paying tribute to their beloved departed family members. I will be driving past one of the oldest cemeteries in Southern Arizona this morning and it is sure to be gaily decorated. The pagan ritual of Hallow’s Eve has become an important time of the year for me. It reminds me to celebrate the harvest, the sun, the rain and all that had to come together to produce that perfectly ripe apple or pumpkin. It is also a time for me to let my imagination roam, for just a weekend. As we get older, we begin to live more in what IS, which is useful and helpful and appropriate. But Halloween reminds me to let my soul peek out of its very responsible present and imagine the possibilities, no matter how wild. |
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10/31/2010 11:30 am |
Hi What an interesting blog ! I enjoyed reading it and thank you.
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