Samhain

Okay, here's what I did with my free time today:
Meet Frank and Fritz (left and right respectively).

They are now guarding our front porch atop their thrones of plastic pot (courtesy of our backyard pile 'o junk, where all discarded potting equipment must eventually end its tawdry life or, apparently, find a happier fate under a pumpkin).

It's Halloween -- another pagan holiday (once rather serious) pilfered by the Christians, who attempted to turn it into a religious observance honoring only the "good" people (saints, etc. -- thus the name Hallows-eve, the day before All Hallows Mass), but which reverted back to something at least a bit closer to its original Celtic form once the inventive and party-on! Americans got hold of it.

Seems that, even after pillory, whipping, torture, and burning at the stake, those dang backward pagans never did completely give up the idea that it was probably good practice to give a nod to all those on the "other side of the veil" (maybe cultivate your allies and protect yourself against those who weren't so happy with you) when you are about to plunge into a long, cold Winter. Golly gee, those wacky pagans!

It is said that on this night, the veil between the worlds (of the living and the dead, the seen and the unseen) is at its thinnest. It is simultaneously the end of the harvest, and the beginning of the new seed, which will lie dormant all Winter, but is alive, nonetheless, holding the potential of the crops that will burst forth in the Spring.

I believe in the power of this paradoxical time, in which fruit and seed and tree are all present, though not apparent.

Tonight, my first trick-or-treater was a friend who dropped in for a Halloween visit. She was magnificently garbed in a lavender ball-gown, complete with tiara, pearls, and fine white embroidered gloves, bedecked with jewelry from her grandmother, and a prominently-placed pillow filling out the front of her frock. Her greatest desire is to have a baby (soon!), and so she "hallowed the evening" with her vision of herself as a pregnant princess.

The stream of visiting spirits at our door was heavier than usual this year -- probably due to the seductive charms of Frank N' Fritz. (After all, nothing says "Free Candy Here" better than a couple of gutted gourds.)

But a lot of the kids were older this year -- very few of the shy, tiny tykes whose mothers prompt and prod: "Now what do you say????", after I load their bags. I feel a bit guilty as this little girl sporting tule wings turns around and practices her Emily Post on me: "Thank you very much." I think the kid is truly grateful, but it's likely that her mother, who has cattle-prodded this appreciation from her, may be cursing my name in a few days, when the sugar-frenzy has not yet abated. The kid's bag is huge, and lumpy, and very, very, full.

Faeries seemed to be in vogue this year. Now, I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday, so I know that there is a big difference between a Faerie and the very convincing and regal Elven queen who graced my doorstep (I think she only took the candy because she thought I might be catching on that she was for real, and didn't want to blow her cover).

A short list of other memorable visitations tonight:

An X-generation pirate, with very good "Arrrrs".

This pirate (whose alter-ego identity is known to me) came with a whole passel of Gen-Xers, who sang "We wish you a Merry Christmas" to me, after complimenting my pumpkins. This group also included a guy with a piece of egg-crate foam curved over the top of his head. "And what are you?" I asked, as I let them pick their favorites from the candy bowl. "I'm an herbivore," he said with panache, and charged forward as if to browse, head down, spikes of foam advancing toward me. It forced laughter out of me.

Two smallish faeries with a larger faerie mother, a human grandmother timidly standing up on the sidewalk out of harm's way -- accompanied by a very small vampire brother. (Wow, I'll bet there's tension in that family.)

The Phantom of the Opera (the new, post-broadway-musical version -- no Lon Chaney gruesomeness -- a handsome cuss behind his mask, I'll bet, and probably a teen fag to boot -- after all, I know what I'd go as, if I were a gay guy in high school these days. Trendy and scary -- oh girl!) I know, this may be pure projection on my part -- but listen, he was also really, really polite. No -- REALLY polite. (Wish I'd gotten a look at his fingernails.)

Now here's a question I have -- why did they all seem so shocked when I simply held out the bowl and let them pick what they wanted? They all just held out their bags and waited for me to drop something in. Instead, I said, "Pick your favorite." We had a limited selection, but went, as always, for the "good stuff": a mix of Mini Mars, Kit-Kat, Baby Ruth, single Reeses. The treaters seemed shocked.

I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I just don't feel comfortable selecting someone else's candy for them. Sure, they could trade a personally-despised Mars bar (I would), but why not let them choose for themselves? I have enough faith in the variety of the Universe that I believe that it would all balance out in the end. I truly do not believe that we would end up with a bunch of "crap candy" at the bottom of our bowl.

At one point, I thought about relying on some kind of "psychic candy matching", having been faced with so many surprised and slightly disgruntled children. I could almost hear them saying in their heads "Dude! You're not doing it right!"

And I honestly couldn't remember -- was this some time-honored Halloween protocol that had slipped away in my adult mind? Were they relying on me to be somehow tyrannical, wise, and wonderful in the manner of my dispensation of sweets? Was it my job -- as the adult --as the person who was at home, dressed in regular clothing -- to apportion the goodies?

Later in the evening, I did hear a comment from a tennish/elevenish person as she scittered away from my door. She said to her friend over her shoulder: "I told you this would be a good one."

My choice to support their choice was utterly validated in that moment.

This blog entry and this day is a personal victory for me. Long ago, and far away, I experienced an extremely difficult Halloween night. The fallout of this was that this "holiday/holy day" was very difficult for me each time the calendar turned 'round to it -- this was so, for me, for many years.

This year, for the first time, I spent the day carelessly carving pumpkins and planning the delight of children of all ages.

I think it's going to be a very good Winter.