In light of the recent holiday....

What ever happened to Halloween?!?!?!

Every year, when I was little, I wanted to be something "pretty" and "feminine". Usually a princess, angel, ballerina...I remember being a witch one year, a genie in high school, a devil (But I wore a one-piece spandex suit and a red v-neck gold sweater...so I was hardly scary! :) )...and I have pictures of a year-old Jennifer as Raggedy Anne. Apparently, no one could convince me a "pretty" or "feminine" costume doesn't bode well in 10 degree weather wandering around outside begging for candy!

The other thing I remember well are kids. No matter what, our doorbell was always ringing. Every five minutes it seemed like. I remember running into friends, neighbors, or kids from school as I wandered from house-to-house...almost running...to see how much candy I could collect - how many houses we could get to - before the parent escort told us it was enough. We'd race home, dump out our pillow cases full of candy (I know we have little plastic pumpkins, but I don't remember using them - they didn't hold enough candy! ) and start the excahnge. "Ooo...I want your Reese's!" "O.K., I'll trade ya for your Mary Janes!" (I loved those.) would ring through the house. Then there was the pile of "other" stuff - candy no one really liked so we gave it to our parents, the money for Unicef, and homemade stuff like popcorn balls and little halloween bags of cookies, or worse...apples!

Now, I'm not, nor have I ever been a real big fan of sweets. As a matter of fact, I think my sister and Dad enjoyed my Halloween trick or treating more than I did - they always reaped the benefits. For me it was all about "winning"! (Does this surprise ANY of you?!?!?!) I wanted to get the most candy and the best kind of candy and I engaged in the trading for what I liked, but rarely did I eat alot of my stolen loot. The thrill was in the getting. (In adulthood, this has materialized in shopping.)

And the costumes. I loved picking out a costume, getting dressed up, getting to "play" the part for one night. I could be whatever I wanted to be - however pretty or heavenly, or evil, able to grant wishes, or um...raggedy? that I wanted to be. I took alot of time and effort to pick out my costume. It was a reflect of me...and not anyone else. You can learn alot about me by looking at my costumes over the years. I still do love picking out costumes. Last year? I went as a weird combination in a black t-shirt that read "I Like Dorks", red fake pleather...really cotton ish...pants, with glasses with tape in the middle and pigtails. This year? We did nothing.

That's what Halloween has become. Nothing. I would like to think it's the growing up. Maybe a metaphor of turning the "dreams" of a costume into the "reality" of a current life. (Think of this...what would Donovan McNabb dress up as now, if every year as a kid he went as a football player and now he is one?) That adulthood and reality IS ordering pizza and sitting around looking through Bridal magazines and planning a wedding, instead of putting on a costume and heading out...or inviting people over and staying in, costumed and escaping.

But it's not just me, and it's not just age. Our doorbell rang a total of 10 times. We bought tons of candy and gave out little. Instead of infrequent lulls in "action", the streets were dotted with infrequent trick-or-treaters. That instead of opening the door and hearing "Hi Jenn!" ringing out once, to see the neighborhood you know come to your door chatting and hurrying to reach every house before it's too late. (BTW, Trish's step-brothers were a Cat in the Hat and a Horse Head. Cutest 13 year-old costumes in their group...well, maybe save Enrique Inglasias! :) )

Are we really that afraid of our society that we no longer feel safe taking our children door-to-door for free candy? Do we really mistrust our neighbors SO much that childhood memories (and possible frostbite scars) are inconsequential? I remember the first time the news informed us of people putting razors in apples. Or that people were using syringes to inject poison into candy. "Parents" warned the news (Dallas news, at that time in life), "Be wary of homemade treats unless they are from people you know and inspect ALL of your children's candy for tiny puncture holes in the wrappers BEFORE your children eat any." So, off we went, unable to sneak the occasional pieces from our cases as we walked from house to house. Most all of the houses handed out wrapped candy, much to our delight - no more apples OR popcorn balls! :) But, I'm afraid this was the beginning of the end for halloween.

This year, I bought no costume. Armed with my black leggins and turtleneck, I threw on a previously bought (on sale the year before, but not worn) Tiara, and armed with my septor, donned a sash that read "Miss Understood", hopped in my car, and drove to Mannyunk for a night of Bridal magazines and talk of weddings and a little Thrusday night t.v. I arrived home before my crown turned into a pumpkin feeling as if it was just another day. Just about to fear all is lost for halloween, Dad begun telling me the story of the lone pumpkin I'd missed. He arrived at our door decked out as a pumpkin and about knee high to a grasshopper. Dad in tow, the little pumpkin stood at the door. "Say Trick or Treat" urged the elder. As Dad tells it, he uttered something in young person speech resembling trick-or-treat (whether it was unintelligable or Dad's REALLY deaf we don't know). Dad replied, "Happy Halloween to you!! Don't you look spiffy in your costume?!?" (Cause Dad's say spiffy) "Now," replied the father of the little pumpkin "hold out your bag." On that note, the little pumpkin then manuvered the threshold and walked right in. Seems there's hope after all.