Halloween Memories

On Halloween when my sisters and brother were young, my mother made us collect for UNICEF. We were disappointed because we wanted candy, which we were never allowed to have, but we were told to ask for contributions to UNICEF in our little village of MacDougall, New York, so we did. One neighbor put three cents in my cup as her contribution.

My mother said dryly, “I guess that’s what she thinks of my idea.” I think she was correct.

That neighbor, I can’t remember her name, would give my brother a haircut when his brown hair got too long. Or was it the grocer next door? Someone would give my brother a very short haircut without asking my mother first. I guess they figured if she was worthy of being asked, she would have cut his hair or had it cut somewhere, so she wasn’t asked.

The neighbor who put three cents in my cup came to my brother’s funeral after he killed himself in Sweden at 18.

“I knew he was being abused,” she said, heartbroken that she hadn’t reported the abuse.

I was grateful that she came to the funeral. I came with the Cornell University chaplain and stood apart from my family. Not a lot of neighbors came to my brother Hugh's funeral, and her presence and her admission that she knew Hughie was being abused meant the world. I’ve remembered that when it becomes my turn to go to funerals. The more agonizing the grief, the more important it is to come, to show up, whether you say much of anything or not.

When I became a mother of children old enough to trick or treat, I was excited for Halloween. I knew I’d let my children collect candy and I had no thought of collecting for UNICEF. I'd been down that route of a parent substituting her own desires and quest for nobility for her children's desires. Mind you, we didn’t buy our kids soda pop or candy except as mini-bribes when they were doing something they weren’t thrilled about doing, usually a bicycle ride with us in the heat.

For Halloween, Jesse had Superman pajamas with a cape attached with Velcro tabs. He wore those to bed, on Halloween, and once to the Nutcracker ballet at Hancher.

“Now there’s a young man who knows how to dress for the ballet!” exclaimed a well dressed woman in the hallway. I smiled. He was very young, in kindergarten or first grade, and he insisted on being Superman as often as possible.

When Sarah was four, I dressed her up and convinced her to take one turn around the block. She didn’t want to. It was bitterly cold and windy. I walked with her and hugged her to my side.

Just one turn was a struggle. She whined and whimpered even though neighbors gave her candy. At the last house, the house before ours, a tall, large neighbor wandered out of a dark garage in a pirate costume with a plastic sword and even scared me.

I was glad that it was the last house for little Sarah. She’d had all that she could take, and by that time, so had I.

Long underwear is the key, I think. Be sure to wear long underwear under costumes and clothing tonight. It makes a difference on nights like tonight.

Stay warm and have a fun Halloween!