Halloween Memories

Today is Nov. 1. Halloween is over.

As a child, I was never allowed to go Trick or Treating. In those day before fear of razors in apples or poison in candy, my grandmother and I would make Halloween cookies and package them in orange napkins tied with orange and/or black ribbons.

I was a little jealous of the neighborhood kids who came costumed to our door with their bags full of Three Musketeers, Snickers, Sugar Daddies and M&Ms. At least I had the few cookie packages left over at the end of the night.

My ex-husband became a policeman. His first night on duty was Halloween.He came home laughing and told me, how many kids whom he stopped and patted down breaking the eggs in their pockets.

When my daughter was in third grade we did a Halloween party in our decorated basement. All went well until one guest jumped from a step and broke her foot.

Moving to Switzerland, I was surprised that there was no Halloween. On my second year, I was invited to a Halloween party at Autodesk where there were many Americans. The culture difference was obvious. The Swiss rented their costumes, the Americans made theirs. I went as a five franc piece.

 

I'd been in Switzerland years before seeing pumpkins. Then on a country walk with a friend we spied a farm that had a wagon full of pumpkins.

That same year a colleague asked me to explain Halloween. I did. The simple version without going into Samhain and the various pagan and national traditions. He went away happy, and I felt nostalgic.

Year by year more and more Halloween merchandise appeared in stores.

Nandita, the little Indian girl living down the hall, and I carved a pumpkin at her request. She wanted two faces, one happy, one sad. We did it. How wonderful, I thought, something so old and yet so original.

This year in my French village at dusk, the streets were full of costumed children many who came to our door. I had the basket of packaged candy ready.

What a pleasure to talk to them, to see their costumes. Their parents stood back. The costumes were things like cowboys, a lot of princesses, spacemen. No celebrity costumes. They didn't say Trick or Treat or a French equivalent but stood their with their bags and baskets open ready for whatever I would give them. They all said merci.  

Good memories kept flooding all day and mixing with the pleasures of waiting for the doorbell, seeing the kids in costume.