Vixen Pirate wench with velvet double lace up corset dress."OO-EEE! What's that smell?"
While we young ones went door to door with our paper bags saying "Trick or Treat," the older neighborhood boys would place some dog doo in a paper bag and set it on fire on the steps of the neighborhood grouch. An old time stink bomb. Somehow this settling of scores was acceptable on All Hallows Eve as it would not have been on other nights.
I don't know when trashing pumpkins and soaping windows began, but I expect these mildly destructive statements have been around for some time. Then there's throwing eggs, a messy and not always harmless activity. Once on Halloween I met a pickup truck on a country road. The back was full of noisy kids. Suddenly something whacked my windshield like a rock. Startled, I swerved, nearly running my car into the ditch. Raw egg was splattered across my windshield.
But it wasn't until I was raising my own kids that I gave much thought to the reason for the behavior. When Ben grew too tall for trick or treating, I continued to take his little brothers around the neighborhood to show off their costumes and collect booty. One year I made dragon costumes. The next year I made Noah a pumpkin costume while Sam constructed a postal box from a couple of cardboard boxes he painted blue.
Back at the house my husband Don doled out the tiny candy bars and chocolate kisses I had emptied into a bowl and placed by the door. Ben went out with his friends-I didn't ask what they did. But I was uneasy, mildly concerned about him on this particular night of the year. I understood then that on any occasion every community member needs a role. If necessary, he will create one. Surely that is at least part of the reason some teens trash Halloween, in protest at having no other role.
I enjoyed watching Ben solve the problem. The next year he made a plywood coffin, decorated the porch with skeletons, and played ghoulish music. Dressed in black, black hood, black mask, carrying a scythe, he answered each knock on the door. There was a fair bit of squealing on the part of the little monsters who had planned to do the scaring. Word got around. Ours became a house not to miss. I had to go out for extra treats. And I was delighted with my son for finding a constructive way to participate.
Article by Patricia Lapidus, author of the memoir SWEET POTATO SUPPERS: A Yankee Woman Finds Salvation in a Hippie Village. Patricia is a writer, editor, teacher, and an encourager. Up coming books include SWAMP WALKING WOMAN, a mythic fairy tale about women's strength, and GIDEON'S RIVER, a novel dedicated to all who live with a temper, their own or someone else's. Note: SWEET POTATO SUPPERS is due out soon in a second edition. This memoir is for those interested in communities, in spiritual hippies, and in the personal journey of discovery.
See http://www.swampwalkingwoman.blogspot.com
costumes for halloween