October 31, 2011

Walked out in darkness, with the nearly half moon peering through my pines.

Lakeshore Drive is dark and without sidewalks, so not only do we get few trick-or-treaters, but it seems dangerous to lure them here with a burning pumpkin or a lit porch light. But I wanted to get into the holiday spirit, so I cruised the back streets where it is safe for the princesses and ninjas, including Kimberly and Edwin Place, which are the prime trick-or-treating areas in the north end. All sweet and happy. The dark shapes darting between cars across the streets are a little nervous-making, so the speedometer seldom exceeded 15.

I think too often of one Halloween–we still lived on Goodview, so I couldn’t have been more than 12, if that–when I had my costume all ready and was planning the trick-or-treating route with my friends, when my father decided (or at least said) that I was too old for Halloween and that I would work in the garden instead. He had me clearing out the frostbitten garden, by night, while everybody was walking the streets in their costumes, and the moon was high and golden, and the grief in my heart was inexpressible. Even then Halloween was not about candy, but about some high and mysterious solemnity, and I was agonized to be stopped from celebrating it the first time I understood it. I had no idea what had gotten into him, what lesson he thought he was teaching, and got slapped across the face when I asked. Still a puzzle to me today. It couldn’t have been simple cruelty, unless it was. What I do know was that it was destructive past what my father intended, indeed if he intended destruction at all. My father’s lessons tended to make me go and do the opposite the rest of my life. It was a particular grace that he didn’t know how utterly I rejected his every precept– except those having to do with making sure lids were on tight and not to be late.

How long have I labored to get that Halloween back?

Full moon one Halloween at Hiram. George and Denny and I ran to the Hiram graveyard and cavorted there as ghoulishly as we could, full moon and Halloween and graveyard and all. I remember thinking, “This may be the best Halloween of my life.” I think it was.

Went as a genie one Halloween to Scandals, my chest bare, my head shaved. I was sexy. I was popular. I left the bar very late, thinking, “everything will be all right now.”