I love Halloween.
When my first born/oldest son was little, he loved it too. He always wanted to decorate and fully immerse himself, our home and our lives in it.
Except back then I loved CUTE Halloween.
You know, happy little jack-o-lanterns and haggy but friendly, witches.
My son, just a little guy, loved the gory, scary, spooky, macabre Halloween.
You know, the skeletons, skulls and meat cleavers sort of Halloween.
I tried to marry the two, sort of ease myself into his Halloween while encouraging him to love my version of Halloween.
He was having none of it.
Precocious from the start, he stated with such conviction I had no choice but to be swayed,
“Halloween is about scaring the undead back to their graves. How are fairies and unicorns going to scare anything back to its grave?”
Now, how close his then-five year old interpretation of Halloween was, I don’t know but it seemed pretty convincing to me. I had to concede his point and ditch the happy Jacks and smiley witches.
I think I have been collecting skeletons, skulls and meat cleavers ever since.
Holidays – as in Thanksgiving and Christmas – tend not to go well in the alcoholic household but Halloween seems to escape the alcoholic’s wrath. Maybe ’cause no one is going to notice his drunken slur or lop-sided stagger amongst the zombies and skeletons walking down the street.
Either way, before we get into the full-blown alcoholic, uh I mean holiday, season, I want to wish you a Happy Halloween.
I hope it was frightful in only the best way.