More zombie-free reminiscences:
The slip of paper from the jar says to tell about holiday traditions. I’ll start with Halloween, a holiday that has mostly faded from view since the children grew up. We used to costume shop, shop for candy and buy decorations for the house which we sometimes managed to get up, a lame display of spider web on bushes, a few carved pumpkins on the porch and maybe some plastic spiders thrown in to add to the less than scary effect. For a few years, until the cardboard disintegrated, we had a few plastic-covered, cardboard gravestones that said stuff like “RIP” and “Izzy Dead.” Once or twice, I hung cute Halloween lights in the windows. We paid lip service to the Gods of Holiday Decoration, for my part in order to make the kids happy.
I’ll admit I always enjoyed throwing on a cloak and witches hat. We need more dress-up days generally. My hats and cloaks are bored in my closet. Come May of this school year, I may see if I can create a few unholiday nontraditions as I free the denizens of my closet.
One regular ritual came after the holiday. Albert wanted to throw the “extra” candy away because he thought there was too much. I objected. Throw away perfectly good candy? He wanted the children to eat more healthfully. I figured they had gone out to stalk the wild chocolate beast and they should be allowed to eat their kill. I’m pretty sure he tossed some candy, but I defended the bags as best I could. I always enjoyed the careful emptying and sorting of the bags, the thought that went into creating various piles for future consumption. I also knew, even if Albert didn’t believe it, that the girls had a pretty good idea of exactly what their haul had been.
The truth is, we have always been the poor relations of decorations in our neighborhood, a burb filled with elaborate displays of scarecrows in chairs and bodies hanging out windows onto roofs. I take after my mom who took the minimalist approach to holidays. She sat and read while the world swirled on around her, making sure her children had costumes and she had candy for kids at the door. If I had not lived in the land of motion-activated haunting machines, I’m not sure I’d have even bought the cobwebs, except for the kids.
When the children could be trusted to go alone, for a few years, I did join a friend who would sit outside by an outdoor heater, drinking wine and watching children pass by. As traditions go, I’ll recommend drinking wine with friends as the sun goes down on Halloween night. I had to stick Albert with candy duty for that one, though.
Currently, I hand out sugar while trying to calm down the dog, who goes nuts from the repeated doorbells. Oct 31st has become Dog Whisperer day. “It’s OK, sweetheart. Stop barking. Stop barking. That’s enough. Stop barking. Will you please stop barking?” She stops.
And then the doorbell rings again.
P.S. I reread this and think maybe I lost a bit of flavor in my fatigue. Halloween carries memories of tiny vampires, Pink Power Rangers and girls in silver space helmets. Proud children marched around Grove Elementary School while parents followed them, taking pictures. I marched in the evening, following children through neighborhoods on lengthy journeys. They were dauntless, my children. I had a great time and, in the end, managed to lay claim to many small packets of Whoppers.
