To be honest, I’m pretty ambivalent about Halloween.
I mean, as far as holidays go, we can definitely say it is one. It’s just that it doesn’t really fit too well into the use case I’ve built up for other celebrations.
Seems most of our holidays revolve around a couple of general themes: some kind of religious observance, a celebration of family and the people we hold dear or honoring those who have sacrificed for our country.
And then there’s Halloween, which was instituted … to ward off ghosts. Or at least that’s what the ancient Celts came up with as an excuse for lighting big bonfires and partying in fields, since they were convinced the day before their new year (conveniently, the first of what is our November) is the day the spirits came back from the dead and roamed the earth.
Or, a bunch of Celtic men wanted to stand out in a field drinking around a bonfire (sound even a little familiar?) and needed an excuse so they didn’t have to bring their wives and kids. And the spirit thing was the best they could come up with.
This proves once again that ancient Celts were incredible story-tellers. And their significant others were extremely gullible. Or, maybe they weren’t.
“You see, dear, the gates of the afterlife opened last night, and me and the boys had to stand in a field and ward the spirits off by drinking excessively. And since none of you all got carried off by ghosts, well, you’re welcome. I’m now going to go sleep it off, I mean, rest from the mighty battle.”
Apparently this is the origin story for massive pickup trucks and Baggo, too. Amazing how history intertwines so many things.
I have also heard (probably from someone while we were standing around a bonfire, warding off demons from the Beyond) that the allure of Halloween on a psychological level is that it lets us confront our darkest fears by becoming them.
As the thought goes, by dressing up as a goblin or monster, you reduce it to a cartoon version of itself, and are no longer frightened by it. Which apparently explains the terror some people must feel toward “sexy construction workers/nurses/fill in the blanks as long it starts with ‘sexy’”, or ninja lumberjacks.
And not to beat a dead horse about costumes (though, at the last Halloween party I was at, I think someone came as a dead horse …), but I personally have decided on new criteria for my selections.
Instead of asking, “does this help me fight my fears?” I tend to wonder, “how much trouble am I going to have going to the bathroom in this?”
Because at my age, if I really wanted to deal with what scares me the most, I’d come as a doctor who wanders around saying, “well, looks like we’re going to have to run a few more tests here” or someone who wants to explain Scientology to me.
I mean, I drive to work on the interstate. You’re going to have to do a lot more to scare me than jump out and yell “boo.” Especially when you’re dressed like a “sexy Little Bo Peep.” And I’m looking right at you, Fred.
By the time this offering hits your driveway, we will be finished with and none the worse for wear for another Halloween. That’s, of course, unless the spirits carried you off. In that case, well, maybe the old Celts were right.
I will also have shepherded my granddaughter on a pillaging raid through several neighborhoods, interrupted only by her frequent costume changes. Apparently she’ll be confronting numerous demons this year, including, I believe, Elsa and the Queen of Hearts.
And in a way, I suppose, I get the allure. Halloween is definitely an outlier, one of those occasions when the point is to be as little like yourself as you possible can. Again, unless you actually are a “sexy police officer/batboy/delivery driver.” In that case, hey, you already had the clothes for it.
Besides, if the idea of ghosts, goblins, spirits, vampires and “sexy meter maids” roaming the streets doesn’t terrify you (especially if you’re double-parked), remember the next big holiday is Thanksgiving, when all the relatives gather at your house to eat, argue about politics and potentially discuss Scientology.
Yeah, so, well, maybe a big evil-spiriting-repelling bonfire in the back yard might not be such a bad idea.
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Gary Smith is a recovering journalist living in Rogers.