• Halloween Past—St. Helena by Day, Fairy Godmother by Night

    When I think of Halloween, this memory comes to mind: cutting across neighborhood lawns (it was faster than running down the sidewalk and up each driveway) and clutching a pillowcase that was at least one-third full of candy. It was dark and the streetlights were on, but I wasn’t scared, because decades ago when I was 9, none of us worried about crime. Besides, I ran in a pack with half a dozen other kids who were also trick or treating.

    How I imagined my costume looked . . .

    I recall jogging down Charlestown St., several blocks away from my house, because more is more, and I wanted to cover as much territory as possible before 8:00 p.m. when I had to be home. My parents were home, not trailing along on the sidewalk or in the car. I doubt Mom even remembered to take our picture before we left. Halloween was for kids, not parents.

    That was an era before tampered-with Tylenol or razor blades in apples. I was old enough to take care of myself in the neighborhood. Running block after block was no trouble because I was 9, and kids ran everywhere, especially if it meant more candy.

    My molded plastic fairy godmother/princess mask was pushed up off my face so I could see while I ran. I’d pull it down before I rang each doorbell. I had hiked up my belted white shift so I could run, and my blue cape floated behind me. I had worn this same costume to school—minus the mask and magic wand/scepter—so I could go as St. Helena, as my saint namesake, a Catholic school requirement.

    St. Helena

    The nuns at my grade school kept us rooted in the religious meaning of Halloween—All Hallowed’s (Saints) Eve. November 1st is All Saints Day, which involved going to Mass and praying for the dead, but it didn’t really resemble the Mexican Day of the Dead (Día de Muertos). Supposedly, that’s a day when the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead thins and spirits of the dead can visit.

    However, the usual boundaries of my life were also looser at Halloween. My parents were indulgent. They didn’t fuss about us being out after dark on a school night. They reserved the right to cherry-pick some of the better loot, like Reese’s cups and Butterfingers, but I got to keep and eat the rest of my Halloween candy.

    What I remember most is how carefree I was.

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    7 responses to “Halloween Past—St. Helena by Day, Fairy Godmother by Night”

    1. Brenda's Thoughts Avatar

      Wonderful post, it made me smile remembering my childhood days in Ohio. The joy of Halloween trick-or-treating with friends, running from door to door to fill my pillowcase. My mom often made me a princess costume and I remember those plastic masks. I used to ride miles on my red Schwinn from one friend’s house to another, without my parents following close by. It truly was a carefree time. Thanks!

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      That long leash is but a memory these days. Parents today would be hauled into court for neglect – lol! We really were free to explore and grow carefree.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        No kidding! Things were definitely different

    3. Ann Coleman Avatar

      I remember when Halloween was like that..it was my childhood too. Like you, I prefer the days when Halloween was for kids, not adults.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        I didn’t mind that my parents weren’t involved–never occurred to me that they should be. But I have to say I really enjoyed going out with my kids when they were young enough to trick or treat.

    4. bbachel Avatar

      Carefree. What a great feeling. Am adding it to my “I want more of…” list.

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Agreed! Too many days “carefree” seems like distant memory

  • Living in the Wisconsin Woods

    The nearest stoplight is about 20 miles south. McDonalds and Target are another ten minutes away. Spend a few weeks in a small town 75 miles from the nearest Best Buy or a hundred miles from Macys and a whole lot of the advertising during prime time is meaningless.

    This is life for many United States residents. Here fast food means leftovers warmed in the microwave. There isn’t much to buy unless you are a tourist looking for art and jewelry. Local wages don’t leave a lot for casual spending. A pair of good jeans, two pairs of everyday jeans, and old work jeans plus a good pair of black pants satisfy most women. When the local stores have sales there are nice enough shirts and sweaters for Sundays or socializing. A seasonal dress rounds out the wardrobe.

    Contrary to Madison Avenue’s wish most people don’t work to buy fancy lattes on the morning commute, fill a closet with the new season’s clothes or decorate their homes in the latest trends. The average American appreciates those who do well and share it with the community, and thinks poorly of people in houses with gold desks and lamps and feathery things in vases who don’t share.

    I grew up like this. Shopping became a pastime after we moved to a city and walking through stores grew into weekend entertainment. It’s not like FedEx and UPS trucks don’t stop in our Northern neighborhood, but the boxes are frequently from Amazon and contain things like a book the local store doesn’t carry, special dog food that can’t be found locally, light bulbs, or rubberized boots for working outside. More replacement focused than acquisition.

    Returning to the city requires adjustment back to the importance of outward appearance, busy lives and a different sort of community life. I’ve spent my adult life in the city and know comfort there. But the peace of being 20 miles north of the last stoplight is precious.

    Cynthia Kraack is an award-winning Twin Cities author, whose novels include The High Cost of Flowers, which won the 2014 Midwest Book Award in Literary Fiction. Her blogs will appear regularly in WordSisters.

     

     

     

     

     

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    One response to “Living in the Wisconsin Woods”

    1. Eliza Waters Avatar

      You’ve described rural values very well. I’d like to think we’ve got our priorities right and live closer to the earth. It’s the relationship that is important, not what you are wearing or driving!

  • My First High School Prom ever!

    High School Prom.  59 years old and I’m finally able to scratch attending a prom off the list.

    Raising my children has made for a lifetime of do-overs.

    The closest I came to attending a high school dance in my teens was stepping just inside the entrance doors. A younger brother asked me to go with him. Earlier, he had stashed a bottle of peppermint schnapps. I had never tasted anything so good. I told him that I’d wait for him outside the high school doors.

    The best part of this prom night was before the dance at a friend’s house where the girls were having their hair done.

    “Well, since you’re going to be there tonight,” one of the moms said to me, “you can take pictures.”

    With excitement in her voice, a teen spoke up, “You’re going to be there? Yeah!” Another girl quickly chimed in her delight.

    My date.

    This surprised and pleased me. As a Police Reserve Officer, I attended all of Juan and Crystel’s middle school dances, even when they didn’t go. I thoroughly enjoyed joshing with their friends. It warmed me that I continued to be welcomed.

    Up until now my involvement with this high school prom was as an observer. I witnessed the teens’ enthusiasm and angst over what they were going to wear, who they were going to go with, and what they were going to do before and after the dance. I didn’t say a word. I watched. I asked questions. I raised my eyebrows.

    I arrived at the dance fifteen minutes before it opened. This time I had no peppermint schnapps or alcohol of any kind. I walked through the front door, past the registration table.

    A scattering of students were milling about. This was not like the middle school dances where students packed themselves at the entrance doors impatient to get in. Tonight, there was a deliberateness in the air. Like you had to time your entrance, not be too early, not appear too eager and definitely, not appear too much like middle school.

    When my date arrived, we had our picture taken under the balloon rainbow. For us there wasn’t any angst about what to wear or how our hair was done. Once the doors opened it was our job to observe and escort students who returned to their car to change into shoes that didn’t hurt. A few times my date and I circled the dance. On one of those rounds a student was being crowdsurfed.

    Crystel and Juan Jose’

    Later, Crystel and her group of friends walked over to where I was sitting. I was near the exit, informing students that were leaving they wouldn’t be allowed back in to the dance. I leaned into the group and whispered, “Seems to me, it was more fun before the dance than the actual dance itself.” They expressed the same opinion. Picking outfits, getting hair done, pictures, and dinner at a friend’s house was more entertaining. They soon left for a sleepover.

    For me, there would be no waking up the next morning with hives from poisoning myself with peppermint schnapps and I could scratch my first prom dance off my bucket list.

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    3 responses to “My First High School Prom ever!”

    1. bbachel Avatar
      bbachel

      Enjoyed this post…thanks.

    2. Eliza Waters Avatar

      Second time round sounds like more fun. 😉 Yikes, your kids are growing up fast!

    3. Life of Janine Avatar

      Sounds like you had more fun that the kids 🙂


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