Hollow, Weaned (Not)

Today most of America celebrates, almost hungrily, what is the day before All Saints Day. When I was a child, a scant decade or so after the greatest and most horrific event in recorded human history, we, i.e. my peers, celebrated Halloween with mellow partying (joyful but not exactly bacchanalian): ducking for apples, jacko'lanterns in our windows, silhouettes cut from black construction paper of witches on brooms and sable cats dangling from mirrors or ceilings, store bought or homemade costumes of skeletons, devils, princesses or clowns and maybe a stocking filled with chalk or flour to pound against the stoop or door of those we "haunted." This last item represented the darkest degree of our spirits when we expressed ourselves with this "trick" if denied any candy or apples. In fact, I never carried this "weapon" or was even aware of its impish practice until my last couple of years of societally sanctioned begging which had commenced at about the age of reason (six or seven) and concluded when I was eleven. And I was never inclined to wish I had such an item. Neighbors were all known to us and were sweet and encouraging, especially dear Mrs. Hupe, the old German-American lady across the street who required that we "sing for our supper" before the treats were distributed. My parents never accompanied me on these doorbell ringing adventures (a testimony to the quality of life in our neighborhood then, rather than a commentary on their confidence in my early strides towards independence). I probably would have ventured out for a "last hurrah" of my pre-pubescence in my twelfth year, but an event known to history as The Cuban Missile Crisis had been freshly minted and seared into all of our hearts and souls (young and old alike) some nine days earlier that particular October and the annual game of playacting at evil lost its charms for me after the ultimate game of Armageddon/Chicken had already been performed with the result of unmatched and genuine apprehension to the extremest degree, making it the all time champ of spookiness. But except for that one year wherein imminent and total annihilation was a taumatizing and all too real possibility, the Halloween seasons of my youth were far different and far less unpleasant than those experienced in the last quarter century or so. I do not believe that this conclusion is a result of yet another reminiscence by a grouchy, soon-to-be senior citizen, lamenting the good old days and railing against benighted youngsters and hopeless outsiders who don't understand the true meaning of Halloween.

Well, for starters, the true meaning of this holiday (which still, mercifully, is not a legally sanctioned one) cannot casually be articulated nor should anyone claim one's necessarily sentimental and naturally colored personal memories as the historical "last word" about the long and evolving (or devolving) tradition. Scholars, far more knowledgeable than myself could illuminate us, no doubt, about the ancient pagan and early Christian roots of the day and I'm sure that one might be pleasantly surprised as well as repelled by long forgotten practices, mindsets and motivations. The changes that I'd like to focus on though: those in my lifetime (plus a curious variant of the observance of the occasion, regionally based perhaps and generally before the second world war, reported by my parents and their contemporaries) are significant and most interesting and they seem to reflect, like more and more things, the growing cultural clashes in this country since the mid-1960s.

Aside from my admittedly "warm and fuzzy" take on the season and despite truly scary news items in the past (nearly as far back as my days of scurrying around the neighborhood) such as the reports of razor blades inserted into apples and other tampered treats, the Halloween festivities of then were simpler and less complicated. Today they're far more purposeful, concentrated, and organized events, primarily geared for adults. There seems to be, more and more, a serious tone to the day's affairs. Choosing a costume and preparing one's social itinerary appears to consume more time than in the past and expressing one's self strikes me as paramount and a detriment to the fun of being with friends and family. The season is remarkably longer than it was even 15 or so years ago. I recall several years ago seeing homes decorated for the mid-autumn holiday during sweltering days in mid-September and the enormous energy devoted to the day (and especially the night) in the gay and lesbian communities is quite well known and increasingly ballyhooed through gatherings like the parade in New York's Greenwich Village. That the N.Y.C. Transit Authority this year made plans to suspend all bus service in the event of organized rowdiness on Halloween, gives great pause and reminds me of the regrettable "tradition" of only a very few years back in Detroit in which the torching of buildings was deemed indispensable by some to the proper celebrating of the night.

I don't know the figures, but I do know that the enormous increase in sales of Halloween related items now surpasses those of any other holiday except Christmas, but that that gap is rapidly closing. Why this attraction, if not obsession, with a holiday that lionizes not the Prince of Peace but the darker side of the human heart? A healthy playfulness that includes psychic "rough housing" if you will, is not to be condemned. "Letting off steam" and all the other phrases that describe a tolerance for human frailty and the need to permit creativity and all its concomitant messiness, are understood and Halloween will or should always embody this spirit. But the avenues of pursuit that I observe in many of the newer celebrations include a greater and greater attraction for the occult and the glorifying of self over community. Individualism is at least as American as apple pie, but the trends are, it seems, more and more about how much one can call attention to one's self via more and more peacock-like regalia in the manner of a Lady Gaga or a Liberace. The entertainment value is significant and the spectacles can enrich us as theatrical events. But the need to parade is suspect. Yes, we don't want a humorless, puritanical society that is unable to appreciate or even countenance the existence of Halloween. There is no danger of that. But the pendulum may have long since begun to swing in the other direction: toward a place of emptiness, yes hollowness, that clubbing, partying, relentless "hooking up", friending a la Facebook, etc., and self-exaltation (and exultation) can only hide from view for a time. We all escape and we all need to from time to time. But the self-deluding, whether through alcohol, drugs, sexual addiction, food, gambling or even sometimes pontificating blogs (I'd best get a grip and take heed, just like anyone else!) imperils the innocuous fun of the holiday. If we take the time to reflect, more than just occasionally, take ourselves less seriously and try to remember that we are not constantly compelled by anyone or anything, to "go solo" like Lindbergh flying the Atlantic for the first time or Hillary climbing Mt. Everest. When having a good time increasingly seems to resemble hard work, take a pause.

You can disabuse yourself of (yes, wean yourself away from) the pressures of this world to compete, to strain, and the compulsion to fight against (as in the boastful "I play hard!") the peace and tranquility that is always beckoning if we'll just listen to that small but indomitable voice which is our own.

Post Script: The variant on the Halloween tradition of Trick or Treating (or Guising, in parts of Scotland and Ireland) that I referred to above, was the custom of dressing in costumes and begging on Thanksgiving morning rather than on Halloween. The usual cry was simply "Anything for Thanksgiving?" There is anecdotal evidence of this on the internet and my aunt, an octogenarian, corroborated recently what my older parents also confirmed, that this practice seems to have died out shortly after the war. More about this anon.