Tomorrow is Halloween.
Bah, and humbug to that.
Please wake me when it’s over.
The Halloween holiday ranks up there with Valentine’s Day on my personal list of holiday rankings.
Both are scary, frightening and plumb nearly useless to me.
I’m not a fan. If Halloween is your thing, that’s fine. I’m not going to jump up and down and go to foaming at the mouth about it and accuse you of all manner of ill things. Just don’t try to get me to go along with you.
Not sure just when my aversion to Halloween first started.
The small elementary school I attended always held a Halloween carnival each year as one of the big fund raisers for its Parent-Teacher Organization.
It always featured a haunted house out at the edge of the woods on the playground and there was a jail on the stage in the lunchroom.
I believe it was our second grade teacher who let us tour the haunted house during recess. It was much better in the daylight to me.
Somehow, I always ended up in jail at the carnival and you had to stay there unless you could pay the fine or get someone to bail you out. What was the fun in the carnival, if you were in the hoosegow?
I always liked the cakewalk and the country store for all the harvesttime good things to eat you could find there.
That explains a lot. My affinity for good stuff to eat — including the candy of Halloween, led to my second reason for not liking Halloween.
As the fat kid, I could never find a good store bought costume.
My sister was Raggedy Ann one year. My brother was a ghost. My niece was a princess. My nephew was a fireman.
I was a big, super size Pirate. Hey, I guess I at least matched my favorite football team.
No one ever guessed what character I was that I recall. They just called me by my name. It’s o.k. though. I prefer to be me.
I’ve never participated in costume days since. I go as myself, and that should be scary enough.
Never cared to be scared out of my wits with horror movies or haunted houses or anything of that nature either. Never understood The Addams Family, Dracula, Beetlejuice, Stephen King or any of that mess.
The closest I ever came to being scared out of my wits was trick-or-treating at a neighbor’s house when I was sevent. A cousin jumped out of the barn dressed as what our vision of the devil is — red suit, pitchfork and all.
I ran all the way to the car. Thankfully, I didn’t spill any of the candy.
I’ve tried to stay on the straight and narrow ever since.
I prefer light, laughter and being who I am.
To all of those enjoying the festivities tomorrow night — go on out there and have fun.
I’ll sit this one out again. I have no money to bail myself out of jail, I still can’t find a decent costume and I try my best to stay away from the devil.
Besides, I could use a good nap. See you Friday morning.
