Once Upon a Midnight Dreary...

With our faces artfully disguised and our costumes billowing in the evening breeze, my boys and I excitedly made our way towards the School entrance where the annual Hallowe'en party was being held. Living in a country where this celebration does not take place, I was certainly aware of the perplexed stares we received as we had made our way through the village. Completely oblivious to this, my sons happily chattered about all the activities they were looking forward to. High on the list was the Haunted House, which was actually the gym ingeniously transformed by the senior students, who each year took great pleasure in creating a spooktacular experience by leading you through a tour of darkened corners where you could touch such wonderfully gruesome things as bowls of eyeballs (peeled grapes) and warm intestines (buccatini pasta in warm water). Even in the moonlight, as the street became unusually noisy with more costumed families walking in the same direction, I could see the eyebrows of those within earshot rise even further at the gleeful talk of guts, ghouls and gumball candy. I'm sure they wondered what on earth those people who belonged to the International School were doing and for heaven sake's why. When my then six-year-old turned to me and said how he had heard that when parents were kids 'in the olden days', that we actually went house to house, knocking on doors saying 'trick or treat' to neighbours for our candy, I realized just how strange this holiday truly was.

It is certainly not your typical wholesome, family-gathered-around-hearth-and-table kind of observance, but just how do you explain a celebration where menacing faces carved into pumpkins are proudly displayed and where after dark, children dressed up as monsters go door to door and blatantly threaten to deliver a trick if they do not receive a treat?

What's more, how do you explain that this is a much beloved holiday where planning ways to scare people are actually part of the fun?

To the uninitiated, and even to those of us who have grown up doing our own fair share of 'trick-or-treating', the meaning behind Hallowe'en and its customs are baffling. To begin with, one of the biggest misconceptions about Hallowe'en is that it has its beginnings in North America. Its origins actually go back to ancient European civilizations and are a mixture of pagan and Christian customs.

The history of Hallowe'en happens to be quite intriguing and so 'my pretties' (cackle, cackle), if you have ever wondered why such things as candlelit carved gourds with silly sinister faces, eerie disguises, black cats and witches are part of this spookfest, or even why it is celebrated at all, then read on and ponder no more as you learn about the reasons for "once upoon a midnight dreary"...

Hallowe'en was first celebrated well over 2000 years ago by the Celts of Britain (the ancient Irish, Scots and Welsh). This makes it one of the oldest festivals that we continue to mark. The Celts did not call it 'Hallowe'en' then; that came much later. They celebrated what was called 'Samhain' (pronounced 'sawh-in'), which marked the end of summer and the beginning of winter. They actually considered this holiday to be their 'New Year's Eve' and they celebrated it on October 31st.

The Celts believed that winter brought with it evil spirits. They also believed that the spirit world and the human world were at their closest proximity to one another on the 31st of October, and that on that night all the spirits from the underworld such as ghosts, ghouls, witches, fairies and goblins walked the earth. They even considered roaming black cats that crossed their paths to be all those who did evil deeds while they were alive.

As a way to protect themselves and frighten off this group of evil entities, the Celts lit bonfires and carved menacing faces onto turnips and other vegetables. No doubt this is where the custom of pumpkin carving comes from and why black cats and witches are the most traditional symbols of this celebration. It should be noted that pumpkins were not used in ancient times simply because they are native to North America and only became the main gourd used when this custom was introduced there centuries later.

Now the Celts thought they were clever in coming up with a way to mislead those evil spirits by disguising themselves in scary costumes so the ghouls would be fooled into thinking that they were one of them. Well, that explains why wearing a costume is fundamental to Hallowe'en and why they are so expectedly gruesome.

The other indispensable custom of the night where children go door to door asking for 'treats', known today as 'trick-or-treating', stems from the ancient Irish and Scots' custom of 'guising' in which, dressed up in their scary costumes they would knock on each door asking for food for the village Samhain party. Folklore is a little divided for the reasoning behind those famous words of exclamation, 'trick-or-treat': good luck was promised if food was given but threats were made to those who refused to give anything, and it is also said that children performed a little trick, rhyme or song in exchange for an offering for the village's celebration table.

Now, add the Romans to those Celtic customs who, 2000 years ago were in Britain along with their own traditions of the Harvest Festival they celebrated at that season. The Romans worshipped 'Pomona', the goddess of fruit and they combined their festivities with those of the local Celts for Samhain. One of the fun activities that we still continue from that time is 'apple bobbing' (the apple was the symbol for Pomona).

Centuries later when Christianity reached Europe, Popes Gregory III and IV in 835 AD, decided to move the date of the Christian celebration of All Saints Day from May to November 1st so that it could coincide with the other festivities already taking place at that same time of year. This was actually a strategic move to help convert more followers to Christianity. Interestingly enough, the name 'Hallowe'en' is actually a direct result of this calendar change. "Hallow" is another name for 'saint' and "e'en" was the shortening of the word 'evening', therefore, "All Hallows' Eve" (Hallowe'en) was the day before "All Hallow's Day" (November 1st). Consequently the name for such a primary pagan festivity comes from the Christian celebration of "All Saints' Day", which is still observed today.

Hallowe'en did not become a holiday in North America until the mid 1800's when a massive Irish and Scottish immigration occurred bringing with it various versions of this celebration. Mass commercialization with costumes and masks did not start in the U.S. until the 1930's and what we refer to today as 'trick-or-treating' became a fixed custom both in the USA and Canada only in the 1950's. So strangely enough, although Hallowe'en is considered today to be a traditionally uber-North American holiday, it has actually only been celebrated there for a mere 90 odd years.

Today, Hallowe'en is celebrated in England, Ireland (Irish children have the pleasure of enjoying a week off school for this event), Scotland, Wales, Canada, U.S., Puerto Rico and more recently Australia and New Zealand. During this past decade especially, the popularity of Hallowe'en has grown to the point where countries who have no real connection to it, like France, Italy and Germany, have adopted this spookfest and all its strange customs.

I guess it's universal; everyone likes to play dress-up, receive treats and be a little frightened by "things that go bump in the night... oh my!"

The Finish Line: It just keeps moving

I remember now. I had a life once. I did, I just can’t quite recall where I left it. I must have put it down somewhere when I became busy doing something else, like giving birth to my first child. I guess I became distracted ... I remember being engrossed with trying to figure how to put that stroller into the back of the car and making sure I had packed enough diapers, bottles and extra clothing for those inevitable little mishaps, and all for just for an afternoon’s outing at the park. The next thing you know I’m packing that child’s things for University and making sure he has a two week’s supply of clothing before he needs to do any laundry.

Looking back now, I have a feeling that somewhere along the line when I was dealing with those truly important issues, like making Halloween costumes and using face paint instead of masks to create elaborate “oh-boy-oh-boy-no-one-is-going-to-recognize-me” disguises, like making up songs to help memorize the multiplication tables that were sung everywhere even while checking out groceries, like whether to read ‘Where The Wild Things Are’ for the fourth time before bedtime or have a third go with ‘I Love You Forever’  (remembering of course, to always use different voices for each of the characters), like baking hundreds and hundreds of cookies, cupcakes and dragon birthday cakes, like driving to Tai Kwan Do classes after the Clarinet lessons and just before the soccer match and still managing a warm dinner on the table in twenty minutes flat after getting home, like making sure broccoli looked mouth-watering and even convincing the unconverted that spinach would indeed make you strong (just go ask Popeye!), like constantly reminding everyone right before the morning school run not to forget anything only to find forgotten homework left by cereal bowls or gym kits left inside the front door, like quickly making a second morning school run to deliver those important forgotten items to their relieved owners, like making sure never to miss a recital, sports event or school play … yep, somewhere in all that I must have inadvertently stuffed what remained of my life into the bottom of my handbag. Well, we know what that means; I’ll probably find it years from now along with a packet of dried up wet wipes, some dusty gummy bears and a few stale mints.

I’m reflecting on all this because at the end of our summer holiday, I boarded a plane with all of my most precious baggage, except one. It felt odd; I had a gnawing sensation that something was missing, like an arm or a piece of my heart. I was so tempted to leave my seat and head straight for the exit door insisting that I had to get off that I couldn’t go home yet because I had left something irreplaceable behind and we just could not take off without it! But instead, not wanting to embarrass my family I stayed quiet in my seat, gripping my armrest ever tighter knowing that a huge hunk of my heart was sitting on that tarmac as the plane took off.

 “Was it just me, or was it the worst feeling to board a plane and leave your child on another continent?” a good friend asked me a week later who had made a similar trip the year before.

I was relieved to hear that I was not the only one. I didn’t tell her how close I came to being banned from an airline but I bet she too thought about stopping the plane. Just when exactly, did overnight stays turn into a four year sleepover? And when did that finish line get so close?  Someone surely must have moved it nearer when I wasn’t looking.

There are some of you reading this who can appreciate my astonishment at how that finish line came up so quickly. There are others reading this who see that finish line so far off in the distance they are convinced it will be a lifetime before they ever get there. Feeling somewhat qualified now, I can honestly tell you the reality is that finish line is not so far away; it just seems like it is. One day they need Halloween costumes and then all of a sudden they need graduation gowns. Well, actually, it’s not all of a sudden it just seems like it is.

So, seemingly without warning, laundry piles have shrunk, the refrigerator doesn’t empty so quickly, you can actually find cereal in the box, there are less pairs of gargantuan sized sports shoes loitering by the entrance door, no more late nights pretending to be asleep while waiting to hear that familiar rhythm of feet run up the stairs two at a time, no more goofy grins hello or head-grazing kisses goodbye.

And then suddenly, while pondering in disbelief at abruptly finding yourself at the end zone, you just happen to get a phone call from a dorm room an ocean away and you are soon made aware that perhaps you haven’t reached that finish line just yet. Thank you, to whoever keeps moving it.

Oh, and guess what? I just remembered where I left my life; like most things we think we’ve lost, it was under my nose all along!