The Halloween Post

Well, seeings as how I can’t miss out on the opportunity of posting 200+ words about my second favorite holiday, I guess I’d better buckle down and get to it.

I’m not sure why this is my second favorite holiday.  We don’t do much with it around here.  I’m the only one who gets even remotely excited about it.  My mother, who doesn’t much care for being scared, doesn’t get into the Halloween Spirit at all, and it appears my father could care less.  We haven’t carved pumpkins since I was in high school and I wasn’t allow to go trick or treating after 13.  I’d kinda lost interest by that point anyway, so I’ve never found this particularly traumatizing.

We always did have awesome costumes though.  Mom was big into sewing and made them for us.  Maybe that’s why I like it so much.  The best part about Halloween has always been dressing up.  Spooking people is fun too, but I much prefer the costumes.

I never went trick or treating as anything normal though.  I remember there were very few years when people could just tell what I was by looking at me.  I remember having to explain a lot.

But, the funny thing is, I remember very few of my costumes.  I remember going as a program for Tron, a clown, a witch, a Care Bear (okay, I don’t actually remember  that costume, but I’ve seen the pictures), Brittany from the Chipettes, a Kzinti from Larry Niven’s Ringworld, a cat, a fairy, and some kind of alien empress.  I know there were more than that.  Just none of them stuck.

I remember the paranoia though.  Mom and dad always checked our candy and if it was open or in a little ziplock or a treat baggie, it got thrown out.  Mom used to regale us with stories of razor blades in apples and drugged candy.  The household pets were not allowed out on Halloween, especially if they were black or had odd markings, because there was a chance someone might need a ritual sacrifice or something.

I recognize this seems a bit silly, but I was born on the east coast and apparently the neighborhood we lived was a bit strange.  Mom grew up in Detroit during the ’60s and ’70s, so that does explain a bit of a paranoia there.


I still don’t let the cats out on Halloween.  Just in case.


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