#96 -- Screw the decorations and costumes
my annual rant on halloween
Well, it’s that time of year again, where a perfectly good fall evening is ruined by a bunch of screaming kids binging on sugar and toilet papering houses. Where little children, adolescents, and parents alike dress as goblins and ghouls, haints, and demons terrorize the neighborhood begging for treats lest they smash your pumpkin, burn your house to the ground, or kick your dog
They come to your house, unbidden, demanding that you give them diabetes inducing amounts of sweet candies, the detritus of which will likely be strewn about your lawn for weeks to come. Come Nov.1, the streamers of skull lights, the inflatable ghosts and Freddy Kreugers, the plastic faux pumpkins filled with the dumdum pops no one in their right mind would take, the fake cobwebs and huge spiders, the myriad costumes and other assorted detritus will be shoved back in a closet or in the attic for another 364 days.
You may have surmised by now, I’m not a huge fan of halloween. It’s a literal worst nightmare for someone like me, a diabetic and aspiring minimalist.
It’s not even the diabetic thing that gets me, it’s the amount of things one keeps on hand and uses for maybe — maybe — one week a year. Now I know there are some of you who delight in all manner of decorations. You put them up for Halloween, for Thanksgiving, for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Independence Day, New Year’s, President’s Day and maybe even the 2nd Wednesday of every month for all I know. Or care.
Even as a kid, I didn’t like Halloween. I didn’t like dressing up. I only liked the candy. Same for Christmas. Save your trees and wrapping paper, your tinsel and all that rot. Just give me presents. Or don’t. Just means I’ll have to throw something else away to balance out my universe. But I do have an Amazon wish list. Just sayin’…
I can only remember two times I dressed up for Halloween, once as a teenager and once as an adult. I’m sure there were more but I have blocked those from my memory for self-preservation and pretentiousness.
I know this was/is not politically corrrect, but when I was about 14, a group of kids from my neighborhood asked me if I wanted to go trick or treating with them. I didn’t want to trick or treat, but I was keen on making friends in my new school and new neighborhood, so I said yes. However, as it was the afternoon on the 31st, I had no costume to speak of. I found a sombrero my father had picked up in Mexico. I also found a basketball. So when asked about my costume, I said I was a Mexican basketball player. Cultural appropriation was apparently lost on a 14 year old boy in the early 80’s.
I didn’t stay out very long. Walking around dribbling a basketball in one hand while carrying a paper bag in the other is not easy. And the best candy bar I got was a Heath bar I took from my mom’s stash when I got back home.
The only other costume I remember was a full on traditional German Oktoberfest outfit, replete with lederhosen. I looked ridiculous, but my thighs looked great. Honestly, since this was a ways back during my salad days as they say, I don’t remember much about it. Quick aside on “salad days”. It is a Shakspearian idiom meaning a time of youthful inexperience or indiscretion. I had a lot of salad days…
The first time I remember hearing that expression was in the great movie, Raising Arizona, by the Coen brothers. One of my mother’s all time favorite movies. She’s been gone for a dozen years now and I can still recall her quoting Holly Hunter: “Gimme back my baby, you warthog from Hell!” Makes me smile just to think of it. Much more so than a holiday outfit ever could.
Long time readers might have heard my tirade about holidays. Lest I bore you, here’s the long and short of it. I hate all holidays except Thanksgiving and my birthday. Thanksgiving because it’s a whole day of cooking and food. Actually, when I’m really in the mood, I can make Thanksgiving prep and cooking last a whole week. I like my birthday because someone will usually take me out for food. Are you starting to sense a theme here? I just never understood the fascination for decorating your home for every season and every holiday.
Now, I know there are friends of mine, close friends — smart, kind, intelligent people, mind you, who love to decorate. God bless you. Go for it. If it makes you happy, paint your grass white for New Year’s Day or your house red, white, and blue for the 4th of July. Just know I’ll be silently tsk tsk-ing behind your back.
So tonight, after the sun starts to settle beyond the horizon, and you are listening to your doorbell go “BONG” (or God forbid a mechanical witch cackle you bought just for the occasion) for the 1,000th time, your lawn littered with candy wrappers and toilet paper, I’ll be smugly and snugly nestled into my living room, lights off, the curtains drawn, the house devoid of decoration, watching Resident Alien or something on Netflix.
Or I might just get out and go for a walk.
You should be able to recognize me; I’ll be the one dressed up like a curmedgeon.
Happy Halloween everyone!
Thanks for indulging me,
~ Tim
