Halloween

I hate Halloween in Colorado Springs. The don't do it right.

#1. They don't trick-or-treat until after sunset. In Elmhurst, we started at 3:30. We were done in time to eat dinner and do homework and go to sleep at a normal hour.

No, it wasn't dark during the bulk of our efforts. But we were warm.

#2. Which leads to an addendum objection: Because the trick-or-treating doesn't start until nightfall, it's so freaking cold. My kids are little! Josh is only 3! He might be meaty, but even a juicy 3-year-old should be inside when the temps are in the teens.

#3. People around here celebrate the occult.

I know you're thinking: Uh, yeah. It's Halloween.

But in my day, people had carved pumpkins and, like, corn outside their houses. There was one family on Hawthorne down the block from us who made their front door very scary and Janice and I knew to skip it.

Here, there is no skipping. There is a lot a lot a lot a lot of dark, gruesome decorations. When I was a kid, the holiday was about creativity and work ethic.

The creativity part--well, come on, who bought a costume? Practically everyone put together one of his own. And it was a day my own mother really shined: she made more than a few awesome costumes. And then we grew up to make our own.

I now rank coming up with a great costume for my kid right along side baking a really great chocolate chip cookie. It's a Gold Star of motherhood that should count for nothing, yet it's a star I want.

And the work ethic? This was our first experience of putting labor in to get reward out. Nothing more pure than the labor of trudging house to house; nothing more motivating than candy.

You want to stop working? Fine. Go home.

You want more candy? There's the doorbell, kid.

Now I look around and people are celebrating, and innocent as I'm sure many think it is, they're celebrating the heart of darkness.

Skulls. Skeletons. Figures strung up in effigy (In years past, of our own President; but of course, no, no, not now. . .) Cauldrons. (!) Houses with tape recordings of incantations being chanted out in haunting voices. (!!) Mock graveyards put up in front yards. (!!!)

And so, so, so many people dressing up as witches, which is a little rich considering that Manitou Springs, Wiccan capital, is right next door. I mean. Where's the multi-cultural sensitivity, people? Are we going to co-exist or not?

Bryan and I want our kids to enjoy Halloween the way we used to. But there's a lot to protect against. The elements. Satanists. People who aren't Satanists but who decorate their houses as though they are.

But I've ranted so long, you've probably forgotten my talking points:

The Ideal Halloween includes:
1. Homemade costumes.
2. Not being out all night.
3. Avoiding the occult.


Got all that? Good.


A week ago, I found myself staring at the Costume Wall at Party City, feeling like a failed woman mowed down of her potential. Because I was bald and menopausal? No, no. Because I was telling my kids to pick out a costume.

What do we got here? We got princesses whose skirts light up. We got a ladybug. We got a doctor. Whatever you want, Gemma. Except a witch. You cannot dress up as a witch.

She chose to be a pirate. "High Seas Buccaneer" was the official label. Because Joshua chose to be a pirate and she wanted to be something along with him.

I thought to myself, as I paid too much money for this garb, that I could make them into pirates if. . .if. . .if I had any mojo whatsoever. But I was out of mojo. And one day, my kids will be telling their college friends that the best Halloween was the year they got to buy costumes in the store because their mother had cancer.


All week long, we'd planned on trick-or-treating at the mall. It is indoors and warm. It is not decorated ghoulishly. The kids could wear their costumes without coats and get candy and avoid the guy who dresses like a mummy and jumps out to scare children!

But come Saturday, the weather was so nice, the kids were able to put on sweatshirts under their costumes and stay plenty warm. And we knew where the mummy lived, so we could just avoid him.

At 4:30, with the sun still shining, I took them out to the neighbors' houses. Yes, it was almost 2 hours earlier than the time others would start. But my neighbors wouldn't complain. As that was Day 6 of chemo round 5, I was done walking after our brief tour of the cul-de-sac and one other close-lying home.

Then I ate dinner while Bryan left with the kids for the real trick-or-treating. One friend asked, as his kids were at my door, "Is Bryan going for the marathon this year?"

I shrugged and said, "I have to let Bryan be Bryan." And if the kids were up for it, then just think of the work ethic they were cultivating!

I sat in front of our house with two of my neighbors and our bowls of candy on our laps, saving the trick-or-treaters the trip to our front doors. Bryan got back with the kids just as the sun was setting. They ate dinner outside and helped hand out candy and played with their friends on the cul-de-sac and Bryan built a fire in our portable pit.

Night fell and it was brisk, but toasty enough by the fire and a lot of parents warmed themselves by it while their kids completed the circuit around the sac. It was all so friendly.

And the costumes! One brother and sister dressed as robots, complete with silver boxes and HVAC tubing on their arms, lots of doo-hickies painted on the front as controls. I gave them each a huge handful of candy as a salute to their effort.

Lots of cute kids cam along. Including one tot whose mother said, 'Now what do you say?' He responded, 'I want more!' Stephanie, the neighbor sitting next to me, gave him a huge handful of candy in a salute to his effort.

She also kept a tally: 112 trick-or-treaters.

At some point in the night, Bryan said, "Should I go out with them again?" Gemma and Josh gave a rousing cheer and off they went, taking their friend next door with them.

As to our contact with the darkly decorated houses? At least our kids didn't get scared, really. And the occult came to us, in the form of more than a few costumes.

Most notable was an 8-year-old girl whose lips were black and whose face was white. She was wearing a black, flowy dress and wings that were patterned with silver spider webs.

"What are you?" I asked.

"A Goth fairy princess."

"Oh." Is what I said.

What I wanted to say was, "What does the word 'Goth' mean to you?"

By 8 O'clock, the fire was doused and we were headed in.
Somehow, not the Ideal Halloween.
But somehow the best Halloween I've had in a long, long time.





















With some of their cul-de-sac friends, Kate and Joshua. Kate is a "60's Girl," and Joshua is a cowboy.