Halloween 2020
Halloween 2020
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Monster Mash: Bobby Pickett
50 years in 50 seconds
This week is dedicated to the devil's day of recognition with an infusion of random thoughts. (Most arrived over the past few weeks around 3am, almost every night.) Some I discarded outright. Some I can't be rid of.
From my own childhood, I have few memories of Halloween. When I was six or seven, a few of us wandered the streets of Orillia, looking for bounty. Those days were different. We were often asked into houses and quizzed by adults as to where we lived and what were we supposed to be. Not many households gave out treats without spending some time with us. However, I kind of liked it. Actually spending a few moments with adults was not all bad. There was lots of laughter and congratulatory comments. Made me feel good.
We were without parents' supervision. That would not happen today, I don't think.
After we felt our haul was enough, we started home. Three big boys stopped us and told us to hand over our goody bags. This was going to be tragic. But an older sister of my friend stepped up, unafraid. She ordered them out of the way, and we walked on. I thought she was so brave. Wonder Woman. Joella Shaugnessy. That I remember. Because of her, we got to celebrate the joy of Halloween, and all the candies it had bestowed.
In 1968, I was driving home from Port Dover with my old friend Larry Smith. We were in his Mustang, and we were bopping, singing my title song- loudly. Not well, but with enthusiasm.
Halloween was coming and the station we were listening to, had decided to play the song over and over. We sang, and talked, and laughed. We shared our most personal stories and were together, enveloped in the friendship of two young men at the end of an era. And, at that exact moment in our lives, we were looking over the precipice, at adulthood. We were moving on with our lives, perhaps a little unwillingly and with a healthy dose of trepidation. But our last little fling of youthful joy was exuberant and unforgettable.
And then I was married. And I was blessed with two daughters. It was our turn to send them out into the world and scrounge for candy. I would be given all of their Snickers bars - that was my deal with them. They were young and offered no counterproposal. I am, if nothing else, a shrewd negotiator.
These little girls had carved out their own pumpkin and were dressed appropriately for the evening's larceny. Candy rules. With a lot of help from their mom, they looked wickedly adorable.
By this time, the girls were ready. Who would refuse an angel candy? And they brought home more than their fair share. I stayed home to pass out goodies to the other munchkins. My bride walked our neighborhood with the girls, wine glass in hand. It was never empty. Ahh. Sweet tipsy Halloween.
Later in our lives, we had moved to Tuscaloosa, our little piece of Heaven. The dress up continued at our office, where I shared my time with the most perfect staff in the world. They worked to make our business better and they were spectacular human beings. Every day was made better by my friends, whose names I withhold for obvious reasons. And this day was not Halloween.
And then our daughters met their men.
Poor Kath has had a week of six year-olds, wound up for their big night. Each day the noise level ramped up and the chatter from the kids was all about what costumes they were wearing and what plans they were making. I can't imagine what kind of night this pandemic will allow. Hopefully they will stay safe and be well cared for.
The Teacher does not think it appropriate to ask her students to bring me all of their Snickers bars. This year is going to be a bust for me. Rats!
Have a safe Saturday night.
We are not available on Monday, so this is an early edition. Will be back on schedule next week.
The Tide plays tonight. Guess we'll watch.
Hang in Campers.
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