Suspended Animation

When I was very young my mother would sew us costumes from patterns, always embellishing them with touches of her own frustrated artistry. Cats, bats, green-streaked ghosts, the devil himself — all the traditions were observed.

Your author, Hallowe’en, 1962

As a child we would cut pumpkins and black cats from construction paper with round-tipped scissors, gluing them with child-like care to butcher paper to make haunted scenes to hang from classroom walls. Occasionally we would tell stories, or in later years, read them from books. Even at eight years old I knew that the tale is in the telling.

Haunted house, 1960s

Trick-or-treating changed between Kentucky and Florida. In the early years it was much more innocent, although even then there were admonitions not to eat anything until my parents could check out treat bags. But it was a friendlier neighborhood, friendly enough that the accompanying fathers could go door-to-door with us carrying highball glasses, getting refills along the way. In Florida we still made our rounds, but the distances were longer, the weather was too hot in October for the heavy costumes my mother designed, so sacrifices were made. Still, it kept up for a few more years.

High school band, 1976

Of course, as I got older the nature of the holiday changed, at least among my peers. It became less about the weakened barriers between the worlds, and more about the weakened inhibitions of the sexes. Costume parties turned into toga parties, and for an introspective guy with a traditionalist streak, it started to lose its allure. (Although I must confess that the ladies in togas lost not a whit of their personal allure.)

Togas, 1980s (your host not pictured)

When I met the woman I married we quickly discovered a shared love of the old-school Hallowe’en, and started having annual parties in a more traditional sense. Pumpkin carving, classic costumes (or all black and a Mardi Gras style mask), spooky music, telling ghost stories by pumpkin light. They were surprisingly popular, as it turned out, so much so that one year I proposed to her as we prepared for our guests’ arrival. It was probably the best Hallowe’en party I’ve ever had, save possibly for our wedding a year later on October 30th. Sadly, our divorce was also finalized near Hallowe’en.

HobGoblin, 1998

The seasons change, and I keep hoping to rekindle the spirit, to resurrect the tradition. When I took my current job I became the de facto cheerleader for the holiday, and helped to get people back into the mood. My reward was to have so much extra responsibility piled on me that I simply can’t do more than cobble together a work-appropriate costume, if that. So it goes.

At Fairchild Tropical Garden, 2007

Tonight, in lieu of going to the usual South Beach bacchanal, I’ll watch Frankenstein or The Mummy or The Nightmare Before Christmas, or maybe listen to some Bach or The Changelings or Vincent Price, or read Bierce or Lovecraft or Poe. Maybe I’ll do it all.

After all, someone has to keep the traditions alive, while we wait for the world to be ready for the return of the true Hallowe’en.

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