When Far from Home – Holidays – Halloween

420 = Criminals.

Halloween is not a universal holiday.  I actually, looked up facts and while forms of it are celebrated in several countries, specifically, Ireland, Scotland, and England, Canada, and Mexico, Halloween American style can be a bit over the top.  

As a child my parents didn’t always purchase costumes for my sisters and I.  While as a child I may have begged for a princess costume or whichever happened to be the number one that year, when it came to wearing them, it was hell.  The robe or dress, never quite fit when worn over sweaters that I needed to wear in the cold October air.  The molded plastic masks were torture, the elastic band either too loose or to tight, leaving marks on the face or worse snapping as you tried to tighten it.  Then if you could get the elastic right breathing became difficult as the nose holes never seemed to be near an actual nostril and your peripheral visions was nearly zero. 

Many years we would scrounge in the parents closets trying to make our own costume.  One year Dad dressed us up as baseball players, using Mom’s mascara to give us mustaches and five o’clock shadows.  However, the year I remember most is the year I got dressed up as grandpa.  My grandfather was a big man with a huge belly.  My parents put me in some big pants and then stuffed them with pillows.  Walking was difficult as I waddled around the neighborhood.  It was dark and the rain had stopped just before trick or treating had begun and so it was cold and damp.  But that didn’t stop us from ignoring the sidewalk and traipsing through people’s yards to the next house.  Then disaster struck.  There I was carrying my pillowcase to collect candy in I walked in the cold wet grass to get to the next place.  Only the next house was lower than the previous house and as I tried to waddle down the slope my foot slipped and I finished the journey by rolling to the driveway of the next house.  There I was with my stubby little legs and arms, turtled, unable to gain any leverage to help right myself.  Embarrassment and shame that I needed my father to help me in a standing position.  

The fun part of the evening was when we got home.  My sisters and I would sit on the floor and dump the treasure from our pillowcases.  We were a judgmental trio as we began swapping.  Chocolate in any form was rare and was hoarded, although a butterfinger might be swapped for a snickers or milky way.  We would suck down pixie sticks as we traded sweet tarts and smarties for red hots and bubble gum.  While blessings were sent to those who gave chocolate, curses were sent the way of those who gave Peanut Butter kisses, that orange and black wrapped boiled sugar chew.  Unfortunately, our mother was one of those cursed, because she bought them every year.  She said she liked them, I am going to choose to believe she bought them and candy corn because they were cheap.  Neccos and candy corn were hard to trade, but tootsie rolls, bit-o-honeys, and good and plentys might find a taker for boston baked beans or lemon heads.  Gold coins might be traded for lifesavers or other mints.  However, any homemade items were to be given straight to Mom unless we knew who gave it to us.  

Rumors of needles and razor blades slipped into candy ran rampant, but no one had ever actually seen it happen.  I think Mom used to squish the candy bars, but I’m not sure if that was a real memory or not.  I do know that by the next morning some of the chocolate bars would disappear, especially if it was a reese’s cup.  

Oh the reese’s cup, we were lucky if we got the little miniature ones, but to get an actual full sized reese’s cup was rare and special.  Just the process of unwrapping and then peeling back the paper.  Choosing whether to just take a bite or nibble the ridges and sides off first.  Reese’s cup, oh how I miss you.  7500 miles, 12,000 km so far away.  

Going to bed with a sugar high and chowing on our stash until only the peanut butter kisses were left and then we would eat those because hey we were kids and candy is candy even if it is one of the worst candies known to man.

Later as a teenager as happens I no longer went trick or treating, but then it become fun to get together with friends in costume.  

I somehow missed the tricking part of Halloween.  I never soaped a window, threw an egg, or toilet papered someone’s yard.  I always thought it was rude or maybe I was afraid of being caught.  No I just thought it was mean.  

Even though I moved to India, I really wanted to give my children as many American experiences as I could.  Come Halloween, there were no kids coming to the door with sacks begging for treats.  There were no black cat and witch decorations in the market.  But each year the American Women’s Asscociation (AWA) and the American Club would combine resources and have a Halloween Mela (fair).  The AWA would order in Halloween stickers and little what nots like spider rings and pumpkin erasers. The marines who lived on the compound would create a haunted house.  The American Club would relax its rules and allow American passport holders to enter even if they weren’t members.  The Club would put up food stalls with hamburgers and hot dogs, French fries and potato salad.  AWA would arrange for a bouncy castle and perhaps a small merry-go-round.  Small booths would be set up where kids could play simple games for prizes or perhaps get their face painted.  As their parents stood on the sidelines there would be the parade of the costumes. Then would come the highlight of the evening – trick or treating.

Behind the club, but still on the same compound were some townhouses that would house some of the diplomatic personnel.  Many if not most actually lived outside the compound, but some preferred not living on the local economy.  Granted in those days there were few foreign goods available, but diplomats did have access to the commissary. So after the parade the kids were allowed to walk townhouse to townhouse and if the light was on they could ring the bell for trick or treating.  Unfortunately, or perhaps expectedly, some of the diplomatic corp found it repugnant that just anyone (with an American Passport) could have access to the sidewalk passing their door.  Personally, I have never figured out how so many xenophobes end up working for the State Department, but from my 30 years experience, there are a large percentage of them.  So after a few years, AWA would try and buy extra candy and then part of the cost of trick or treating was a parent of any kid trick or treating would have to dispense candy.  I would sit on a bench with my bag of local candy (usually Cadbury eclairs) as my children went from station to station.  

Ready made costumes were not available on the local market.  Oh you could find a mask of some sort, but the clothing not so much.  If a parent was organized and planned well (not me), they could hire a tailor to make a costume.  There were many elaborate costumes that were stunning (not mine).  

The first year we were going to the Halloween Mela, my kids were 2 ½ and 6 months.  I basically put them in their white kurta pajamas after I had taken a black marker and made prison stripes on them.  I topped it off with a little cotton Congress hat.  Remembering that baseball costume of my childhood, I took my eyebrow pencil and mascara and made mustaches and five o’clock shadows on my kids.  

Once I became accustomed (ok I never got used to it, but learned to say it) to the phrase fancy dress instead of costumes, it actually became fun to try and create them from our wardrobes.  One year I had the boys make papier mache masks.  We blew up balloons and layered the flour glue pieces of paper on top.  When it was dry we cut out place for vision and breathing, but the bad part was that we used a tall balloon and so most of the mask went above their heads.  They looked a bit strange, but hey it was a first time project.  They each then painted their mask anyway they wished.  They both went for an alien monster type of theme.   Then we threaded it so it could tie in the back. It was different, and they enjoyed the creation part if not the wearing part.  

One year after we had gone to America in the summer, they each brought back Red Power Ranger costumes.  They had spent months playing in them and they were not to be denied at Halloween.  That year I think there were at least five Red Power Rangers.  

One year in grade school they decided to have a small Halloween Party at home.  They invited their crew over.  Everyone dressed up, we had a princess, a batman, a Frankenstein, a Gypsy, and a mercenary.  

For many years when my children outgrew the AWA Halloween Party, I would feel a little low when October 31st came around.  Then we moved to the complex we live in now.  It was a brand new complex and many expats began renting.  Some were from other countries and transferred to Delhi with their company.  Some were Indians who had lived overseas and then moved home.  The complex tries to create a close community and therefore celebrates most holidays.  They even began trick or treating.  A notice goes around (usually, not this year) a couple of weeks before Halloween.  If you call the concierge and give them your flat number, then the “guides” will bring trick or treaters to your door in batches of 10 or so.  If someone is going to be home, I make sure that we are signed up and I make sure there is chocolate waiting for all the ghosts and goblins.