Our doorbell rang three times last night.
In decades past I’d have expected 40 or 50 ding-dong-dings. Maybe 60. I am not sure what has happened to our Hallowe’ens, but I can guess. In the beginning, in the years when my kids were little, this neighborhood was full of families who had moved in when the original owners moved out. We had voices in the streets–parents to children, children to each other, children to their bags of candy, frankly. Beams of flashlights criss-crossing up the sidewalk. Black conical hats.
As the kids grew up, or, this being Silicon Valley, and the parents made their tens or hundreds of millions and moved to fancier towns and larger houses, our population changed. Brief digression. One of my neighbors, after what we call a “liquidity event,”, emailed to ask if I’d be willing to sell them some of my backyard so they could could build a guest house for family. I explained that my yard didn’t actually abut their land, just my house itself; they moved out. No hard feelings.
The next several years I still got 20-30 Munch “Screams,” robots (again, Silicon Valley), fairies and so on, but now they were mostly from the Hispanic neighborhood on the other side of the freeway. Larger groups of kids; grownups hanging back; everyone thanking me.
Came the pandemic. Came the shopping center’s Hallowe’en events. And, perhaps the death blow, came the current rage for all-in decorating. Some streets in my neighborhood cover themselves in skeletons, spiders and witches smashed into tree trunks.
If I were to travel to take my kids for Hallowe’en adventures, I’d go there too. My single mid-sized ceramic pumpkin with putative carvings, “Boo,” lit by candles, is less compelling. Frankly.
I feel the passage of time much more acutely for this holiday than, say, Christmas or Thanksgiving. Partly because my kids never wore the same costume twice and costumes can be so memorable – my daughter as the Tin Woodman (gray sweatshirt and red felt heart pinned to her chest because I cannot sew), my son as a potato (a very large bag made of a sheet, dyed brown and filled with foam pieces that I carried once it became clear that the foam would settle around his shins preventing him from walking.) Or maybe I’m remembering Liz, my best friend who died of glioblastoma in 2021. She and I took our kids out together in the prime years, the running years, and came back to my house so the kids could sort and count their candy on the living room rug.
Most of all though, I think it’s because Hallowe’en is a such a communal project. I can repeat Christmas traditions. Take out those brass stocking hooks, hope I don’t drop them on my toes, every year. My siblings and I can debate garlic or plain Thanksgiving mashed potatoes, every year. But Hallowe’en is nothing without those tiny strangers and their beaming parents on my doorstep. Other people mark the passing of this time.
Which seems appropriate, albeit a little sad, for a holiday that celebrates the most human of passings. Time to ramp up the festivities? I do not care for live pumpkins, but maybe next year I’ll hang hundreds of orange lights from my front yard trees and see who comes. I’d have to up my candy game, of course. No more single Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, I’d want veritable chocolate and peanut butter mountains to give out. What would my mother, she who always made our costumes and once dressed her four children as the Sun, Earth, Moon and a tiny Star, think?
Have a wonderful weekend. I hope you have your favorite candy to hand.
6 Responses
I live in Petaluma CA (Sonoma). In 2008, when I moved to a house on D Street, the neighbors asked if anyone had warned me about Halloween. Nope.
I had moved from a nice neighborhood in Oakland, where the children expected the smaller size of candy bars. We probably had 100 kids, not necessarily from our neighborhood.
D Street in Petaluma had a horde of 2500 kids (and parents) for Halloween 2008. Part of the attraction was the house across the street, owned by the CEO of Clover-Stornetta Dairy. They had someone dressed up as Clo the Cow and gave away half-pints of milk (regular or chocolate), with takeaway cups of coffee for the parents.
My next-door neighbors brought in bales of hay and carved about 30 pumpkins, which were scattered on the hay-bales. Another neighbor had set up a pirate’s cove. Et cetera.
I had been warned, so I ordered box-loads of the lollipops that doctors used to give away, and the tiny size of Tootsie Rolls. My friends (who live on a hill in San Rafael and had minimal trick-or-treater-opportunities) brought their kids, who were 5 and 7. They had never seen anything like it! Think of the lines at a major airport, on a major holiday….
We set up a table in the driveway (to protect the 15 steps up to the front door) and gave out the candy. At one point, the kids’ dad took them to join the fun, which they really enjoyed.
Unlike the groups in my previous neighborhood, everyone was happy, polite, and kind. The local police set up traffic control in the nearest intersection, and they handed out treats, too. (At 9pm, they also encouraged the older kids to start going home.) One of the neighbors had a band. Another had someone to paint children’s faces. It was a carnival. And best of all, it didn’t matter about the size of the treats — everyone said thank you!
Fast forward — two years ago, I downsized and move 3 blocks away. There are lots of older people in the neighborhood, but a sufficient number of children to warrant decorations and costumes. And for the older kids, D Street is only a couple of blocks away, it’s the best of all Halloween worlds!
I was visiting your family over the the weekend when your mother (she of many talents) created the famous Peanuts tableau with each of you – I think there was a mailbox, a pencil, and an envelope addressed to The Great Pumpkin – she certainly set a standard that I never quite reached with my own kids! My own best was my daughter as a single M&M (much effect for little work!). Plus my son as a Northwest Native American totem pole (a good friend had just written a well-illustrated book on the subject, so we had excellent models to copy with poster board). Then there’s the year he was Robin Hood, but many people thought he was Peter Pan – or maybe it was vice-versa? Nice to have memories jogged as memory is failing…
Imagining the Sun, Earth, Moon and tiny Star costumes warms my heart. <3
I've been feeling very down lately and couldn't really put my finger on it. Maybe it's something like you described: the passage of time and wondering where I fit along it. I only remember trick-or-treating a few times as a kid — always with friends, not parents — and we simply walked all over town, knocked on every single door and always met friendly faces. That would have been in the early nineties. Every year I wonder for a minute if it was really a safer world for children then, or if people's perception is what has changed. And then, each time, I realize that yes indeed, it was much safer… but that isolation from others and the perception of individuals themselves is what creates the real dangers children face (gun violence, cyberbullying…). It's a circle. The last time I went was in sixth grade; my best friend and I got taken to a salvage store and told to choose something from their usual stock for costumes. We ended up being biker chicks. :) That's still some of the most fun I've ever had.
Have a wonderful weekend, Lisa. Thank you as always for sharing such thought-provoking memories and stories.
Also, my favorite treats to get were candy apples (perhaps because they were so rare) — they were always wrapped in sparkly cellophane with a little bow. I felt special that someone had gone to such trouble to make that for me. They’re actually very easy to make — though difficult at scale if you expect a crowd — and less guilt-inducing to eat if you have leftovers. ;)
I, too, have been reminiscing about Hallowe’ens past (and I favour the apostrophe’d spelling as well) . . . With 9 years between our oldest and our youngest, it was a busy and wonderfully dramatic, festive, fun day or two (plus the costume-planning days before and the sugar-high days following) for well over 20 years of my life. . . Even after that, we at least had a few trick-or-treaters come to the door. . . and then a few years, just waning now, where we at least get photos of the grandkids in their costumes. The Almost-Seventeen is more into Rocky Horror Picture Show viewings with friends, but last night we got costume photos of the other five. None but the eldest live close enough to stop by to do a trick or get a treat, and in our 5th-floor condo, there’s no point in a jack o’lantern. Nor any point buying 35 chocolate bars for possible trick-or-treaters and then having to eat all the leftovers.
Instead, we dined on halibut, squash, green beans, and watched an episode each of Slow Horses and The Morning Show. . .
Tonight we’re having everyone over for Chinese takeout and ice cream and hoping to hear a bit about last night’s adventures. . . And maybe compare generational experiences.
Thanks for this post. It’s a funny little phenomenon and I’m glad to see other responses to it. xo
Halloween has evolved over the years and not always in a traditional sort of way.
In my town, the Center is where everyone gathers for trick-or-treating. The rest of the town is generally just like any other night.
I live on a dead end street with 6 houses, each on very large woodland lots. The neighborhood 5 kids (after being in the Center of town for the big event) stop by for Halloween and I have little gift bags for each child. It is fun to see the kids in costume and I know each child.
I do miss the crowds of children in costume with their parents running from house to house to show off their costumes and amass candy of all sorts.