Happy Halloween means something different now, at least to me. When we were young, today would have been so exciting, arguably the most exciting day of the year. Halloween night was all about the treats. This was simply because we weren't accustomed to such luxury, other than mostly at Christmas and Easter. Even then, the treats would be limited in the house to the budget of that year, but not on Halloween. Halloween was the epitome of working hard and being rewarded generously.
Today there are houses and yards done up to the nines, and masks and costumes that cost a week’s salary or more. But then, there was no such a thing. Any haunting was natural… And there was haunting…
I would never be able to tell you a costume that I wore because there was no such thing. We got a little more creative as teenagers but as youngsters, we’d change coats or something as if that would fool the treat giver. The traditional fare of Halloween was some sort of plastic face mask with big eye holes and two tiny nostrils and a slit for the mouth that Mom would have purchased at the shop. It would be fastened by a tiny elastic string and two staples. If one of us broke that we were screwed and would have to put them away until Halloween night. But they did break in the days leading up to Halloween when we’d try them on and look at ourselves in the mirror or just practice for the big night. So often we’d have it stapled on one side and a hole drove in the other with the top of the scissors and the elastic tied on. Then to really cement it, there’d be a big nob of tape over that.
The front was
painted with some sort of character (probably in lead paint), but not a
character that we would recognize out of anything other than a book - they
didn't have Mr. Dressup or Sesame Street ones, it was always a white ghost, a
green witch, a beige mummy, a wolf, or Dracula himself in various shades of
black and grey. From time to time we could get a girl face or boy face in a kaleidoscope
of bright colours with worms or spiders on them, but mostly it was the standard
Halloween print.
On nights when it
was really cold, little hailstones would get through the eye holes and sting us,
we’d blink our way down the road. But it wasn't a night that you'd turn back.
No siree. We walked the length of North Harbour - Carmel's to Ben Bonia's - in
order to get every candy and visit every house. The pillowcase or plastic bag
would be full, and every single item treasured.
It was one night.
If we were sick, somebody took an extra bag, but it wasn't often that anyone
was sick. The leg would have to be severed or something to keep any of us from
going out. Households generally knew who was there and who needed spares for a
sick one at home. It was like a knowing although we never really understood how
everyone knew.
There was no such
thing as a Halloween Party or fancy costumes costing a fortune or week-long
celebrations either. Even in school, there was little decoration, but a
scattered ghost story would be read. It was grade six before I touched a real
pumpkin in class.
Paper pumpkins,
scribbled with orange and black Crayola’s, or the most genuine thing if we were
lucky enough to have a package of construction paper, graced the glass on any
of the road-facing windows and doors at our house. I believe it was the same
for any place that had children. One year, I remember us using the orange and
black construction paper to cut out the words "Happy Halloween" and “Trick
or Treat” in block letters. We taped them on the cupboard doors and wall. We
added in a few paper bats and spiders for good measure. Mom was very proud of
them and allowed us to hang them any time in October.
Waiting for dark
was the hardest when Halloween fell on a weekend. I miss the days of skipping
down the dirt road with a bag full of candy weighing heavily on my arm and
sleet pelting and tinging off the plastic mask and sometimes mixing with the
brow sweat in my eyes. Hot breath steaming the inside of the plastic mixing
with the cold air and making everything hazy and ghostly. We were all there as
a family until we were teenagers and could go out with friends.
The anticipation of
spilling the contents on the living room floor, rosy, red cheeks and eyes as
big as saucers looking at the bounty. Picking the first delicious treat was a
ritual in itself, seeming to take hours but. in fact. only a few seconds. Mine
was always the chewy orange and brown candy corn so I don't know why it was a
decision in the first place. But it wasn’t about the decision, it was the
delight in delaying the best night ever. We traded with each other to make the
most out of what we had.
Ah, the good old
days, when school lunches were Halloween treats for as long as they lasted. Now, that’s not to say other Halloweens weren’t great. I
have terrific memories of taking the girls and the grandkids out for Halloween.
I also had a wonderful time over the years working in haunted houses and
laughing so much it hurt. But none hold the witch’s lantern to the years of
innocence trudging four miles over dirt roads (uphill each way – not) to have
candy for a few weeks that I had worked hard to get.
I wish you an eye of newt, hobgoblin
scary, best tasting witches brew candy, wolf howling, pre-walking dead kind of
Halloween of days of old. At least for those from my girlhood
generation who remember them. I’m happy to recall those simpler times.
