Holloween

            As a kid growing up in suburban Toronto, Halloween was an event. City living made perfect sense when you considered the access children had to hundreds of houses and a multitude of candy. Given the effort, you could go from door to door without end. Every year, we used pillowcases to carry our stash. You needed all that storage room for all the treats you gathered. Occasionally, you had to run home and empty the goods out, only to return to collecting like some beggar would. We acquired so much candy that it was almost Christmas before we ran out. Every year, Halloween was more than just the spectacle. Back in my day, Halloween was pure adventure with the greatest reward. Kids roamed the streets, mostly without the parental guidance you see these days. A group of us, including my brothers and sister, would move from one area to another, hoarding in a manner worthy of A&E. Halloween was not only great fun, each eve held a special place in time, unlike so many other holidays. When I think back on all the Halloween nights I have experienced, it is my childhood memories of the day that stand out as best for me. There was something grand and carefree about Halloween when I was a child. Sadly, these seem to be lacking in these more modern times.

            In Toronto, Halloween brought an onslaught of children knocking at your door, but at my parents’ home in Strathroy, Ontario, it was a different story. The move from the big city left you longing, at times, for better times. Each year, handing out candy seemed anticlimactic. Perhaps thirty or forty children visited their front door. My Mom and sister always made such a fuss about decorating. Gravestones on the front lawn and spider webs everywhere were standard fare. Between the two of them, Halloween lived up to the spectacle, not that anyone really ever noticed. Over time, the children going to my parents’ house for candy each year dwindled to almost nothing. Granted, my folks reside just inside the town lines, just a few steps and country living is the life you see. It’s not really surprising, this decline. New subdivisions swallowed that end of the town years ago. What child would make an effort to run down a country lane with 4 houses on it, when they can access the goods en masse just a block or two away? After my Mother’s passing, my sister took full control of Halloween. For a few years, the effort seemed worth it. For a time, there would be no display, no fright night. There was just no reason to go to all that trouble for a measly 3 costumes. In an attempt to restore tradition, this year my sister is at it again. It’s not hard labour, more a labour of love. They still hand out candy (with lots to spare) but there still seems to be something missing. It’s not that Halloween died, it simply changed and shifted. Things just aren’t the same.

            I knew many a Halloween where candy was the last thing on my mind. As a teenager, come Halloween, I was drawn to social events rather than tricks or treats. I used to spend hours costuming for one shindig or another. I went to trip the light fantastic, usually with Kathy, a good friend who liked to dirty dance. We met at Seekers, a church youth group. I could not tell you just how many times we paired up over those few years. She was fun and so was teaming up with her. Despite my unannounced proclivity, we meshed on that dance floor time and time again. We partied but it was innocent and simple, pure entertainment without all the complications. You hear about youth today and how they like to play. Hedonism seems to be the preferred flavour. A lifestyle of excess is only overshadowed by their inability to see beyond themselves. Fun isn’t dancing or spending time with your friends, it’s drugs and booze and far too much freedom. I am sure that somewhere, one group or another hosts some form of celebration come this Halloween season, but all I can picture is each side of an arena filled with adolescents, using each chair as they stare at their Smartphone, talking to a friend on the other side of room. Things just don’t seem the same as they once were. Granted, Halloween night will still find children running from house to house. Jack-o’-Lanterns and frightening displays still litter the lawns of both urban and rural dwellings. It all just seems so lifeless to me now. Getting candy was only one part of what made Halloween so special. We made our own costumes, or at least my Mother did. These days, $19.99 at Wal-Mart will automatically relieve lazy parents of this responsibility. Halloween now seems to be for smaller children while devil’s night appears to fit the lifestyle of young people. Halloween still is but it’s not the same.

            October 31^st, 2017 will be my third Halloween living in Paris, Ontario. The first occasion occurred on a learning curve. While the 7 pumpkins we carved looked fitting enough, leaving the front gate closed and turning off all the outside lights seemed to only dissuade trick or treaters from approaching the house. From what I can remember, we had only 11 children knock on our door. Our mistakes were duly noted. Our second Halloween saw a different turnout. With 6 carved pumpkins, a giant hanging ghost and a ghoul head lighted from within, the place was festive for sure. We left the gate open and the front lights on and presto, one kid after another was granted 3 chocolate bars. When I was growing up the selection of candy we got varied depending on the neighbourhood. These days all kids want are the chocolate bars that come with the celebration. The days of homemade Rice Krispie squares, Unicef collection in that rectangular cardboard box, and cans of pop are long gone into history. Going through your stash meant pouring it out on the living room floor so a parent could have a look. With 5 children, it took my Mom some time but eventually the hoard became fully my own and I paced off to my room to gleefully worship it. I remember her fear, that somehow a razorblade or needle would find its way from snack to body part, usually the mouth and throat. You would think these modern times would convince people that it’s not okay to avoid inspection but every year, tales of damaged children fill the news on the very next day. Our second Halloween in Paris was much more successful than the previous holiday but there was still something missing. The energy, the joy I knew trick or treating as a boy seemed lacking in the faces of the children who came to our home. It’s almost like the process has become somewhat of an expectation rather than a pleasure. The children I’ve encountered since our move here seem dull and lifeless, even when standing at the door begging for some more. Joking with them as you reward their costume seems foreign to most of them. They appear startled and a little scared, as if warned not to enjoy things too much. The entire tradition has become rather lacklustre.

            This year, our third Halloween will see the very same things that last year saw. The pumpkins will be carved and the ghost hung out to dry. That ghoul with illumination will sit in the window facing the road and shine just like it did last year. The black cauldron I use for distribution will be filled just like it was last year. I will open the gate and leave the lights on, just like I did in 2016. Last Christmas, I was given a Captain America hoodie, including a face mask where the hood should be. The kids next door left me the Captain’s shield when they moved to England. I will wear this outfit when I open the door this year. I try to make an effort, I try to take as much part in the festivities as I can. I enjoy seeing each child as they stand waiting for gratification. I can occasionally see the anticipation in their zombie-like eyes. I can only imagine what the experience is like for someone growing up in this age. I often wonder if children still view the world though innocence rather than technology. Is the experience of Halloween an actual experience for them or is it something different, a ritual void of excitement and void of much needed laughter? It all strikes me as rather hollow. This is the way that I see things,  at least from the view of my front door.

            It doesn’t matter how many kids show up at our door. Their absence would only leave more chocolate for my partner and me to enjoy. We will still carve all those pumpkins and we will relish the feeling of home one gets when sharing such memories. Amidst all the carving, and all the display, a part of Halloween has survived for me. My partner stands right with me on this. We make Halloween special for us, any children who become involved are incidental. It’s not that they don’t matter, but they are not required when it comes to reliving your youth, if only for mere moments. When the darkness has fully set in and all the kiddies have returned to their lobotomies, my partner and I sit ourselves down and we watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, then Garfield’s Halloween Adventure. When the cartoons have passed away, we turn our attention to horror. Each year we pick from our extensive DVD library, each year we vary the choice. Whether John Carpenter’s Halloween or even Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace, it’s not necessarily the film that is important, rather the investment made. We will never have children and are both more than okay with that (trust me). They are irrelevant, to be fully honest. I do not require such relationships to be happy. I am responsible for how I react to the world around me. I still celebrate Halloween because it brings a part of me to life, even if things just aren’t the same.

Photos

Halloween 2016

Paris, Ontario