Halloween Nostalgia
Spooky season is nigh, and if I'm being honest, it's been nigh for a couple of weeks now already. Halloween and the surrounding weeks are some of my favorite of the year, and being from New England has always given it a little something extra. Growing up, our house drew in families year after year for its humble front yard scare scene. The scale of a good year was measured in yelps and tears. All in good fun--parents brought their kids back year after year. Smirking older brothers and sisters ushered their sheepish younger siblings across the lawn to an old electric chapel organ my dad had found somewhere. It's worked for at least 15 years now with no maintenance whatsoever and is almost certainly possessed.
Our ploy was simple: *the candy's over there.*
Only "over there" was through a makeshift graveyard to what looked like an altar ensconced by two flickering skull torches. The candy bowl loomed--enormous, tantalizing. It was the good stuff and you got two. But behind all that, a shadowy, lumpy figure sat hunched in a chair...brooding.
Low coils of fog hung ominously in the grass and a burned CD of Halloween best hits loomed in the air. Parents would take out their phones with a hawkish glint in their eyes while they watched the next generation bumble over to the organ and size up the manikin. Some approached with intense apprehension. Others strutted up with bravado. The next part was always more satisfying with the latter type.
Imagine--you've got your hand rooting around triumphantly in the candy bowl and are focused on finding your favorites when suddenly the dummy isn't a dummy at all and it lurches forward and slams a broken chord onto the organ. It blares across the yard. People jump. People laugh. People cry. You can pretty easily tell in moments like these who'd survive a horror movie and who wouldn't. Some were off the lawn before the discord ended. Some would spring away and ricochet off their companions in frenzied pinball fashion. Some would freeze with their hand in the bowl, their eyes suddenly wide and alert like a startled cat.
Lately, things have gotten in the way of that ritual. The streets are emptier on Halloween now. Those who do venture out go before the sun sets. New neighbors leave their lights off. Life, too, has made that candleflame of tradition sputter. Last year, my dad had only just gotten back from a week spent in the hospital for surgery. Before that, we were in the process of losing my mom.
Nostalgia is a lot like trick or treating. You relive the fun of tracing your way down side streets and across the porches of your memory, stuffing a pillowcase full of sweets for later. And then when it comes time to eat all that candy (and you do), it's all too easy to make yourself sick. Suddenly it's all wrappers and you're right back where you started--only with a stomach ache.
Looking back on all those years, I'm grateful. I'm grateful we didn't get sued, for one thing. But more than that, Halloween showed me how my parents had embraced my passion for the magic of the season (and yes, some degree of pageantry, too). They saw my interest and "yes and-ed" it into something an entire neighborhood could share. That's something special. Even if it's different now, it's worth remembering the sweetness--and it's worth the stomach ache.
