Halloween

As Halloween approaches, I start to recall past Halloweens. I remember going from my 2nd or 3rd grade class to the 5th grade class and standing in front of them to spell Halloween because they apparently were lacking the ability. It felt a bit weird and awkward at the time and hasn't really gotten any less weird. So many Halloweens. From a little kid going door to door to a middle-aged man at an October Chicken Stew. Whew!

As a small child, the Halloween costumes were kept in the little attic off of mom’s sewing room. I think mom made them as she did a lot of sewing back then. The masks were made of weird, smelly plastic. The smelly part could be from several years of use; it is hard to say at this point. I’m not sure if she made any of those costumes for me or my younger sister but I expect she was making them for our two older sisters. I remember a clown costume from back before they were made to be scary and maybe a rabbit. We had (and I still have one) orange plastic pumpkins to carry our candy in. I remember emptying it into a grocery bag in the car and only leaving a piece or two in because we so frequently were told we didn’t have much so have two.

I only remember a few costumes from my childhood: clown, old woman, little girl, hobo.

We were in a rural area so dad drove us all over but usually ended up in the nearby small town with population of 400. I don’t remember going with my older sisters although that probably happened. I have clear memories, which can’t be as clear as I’m imagining given that it is 50 years after the fact, of doing a lot of trick or treating with my younger sister. I kept going for as long as she did. The thing I remember the most is that at every house they would try to guess who we were. Some knew; the ones that didn’t, needed prompting with our names or parents’ names or our mom’s maiden name which was reasonably well known.

Mom had some pretty strict rules on eating candy but we’d sneak a few pieces in the car. However, it was dark in the car so there was a good chance I’d end up with something I didn’t like as much. But it was still candy…nom nom nom.

At home we’d dump our loot on the bedroom floor. You’d think a kitchen table, right? Not a chance we’d let anybody see our loot. It was ours. I don’t know if mom rooted through it later to look things over or not but we tried to keep it to ourselves as much as possible. A lot less restrictions on how much we were eating.

The thing about memories that old is that it is hard to know if I’m remembering correctly. I hadn’t questioned my memories quite as much as I do now. I’ve talked with my younger sister about stuff from our childhood and there are things we remember differently. I’m seeing my mom’s memory falter as her dementia worsens. She remembers things that didn’t happen, or more correctly, she’s re-mixing memories into a new narrative that is close enough for a “dramatized for TV” story but isn’t accurate. I hadn’t noticed right away that mom was re-mixing memories into new stories. But the fact that she’s telling me new stories that I’ve never heard before, it makes me question if they’re legit. Anything prior to my memory is just a “who knows” situation. Although we can ask her younger brother, there’s an 11 year difference. So he doesn’t necessarily know for sure.