Halloween Grinch

I’ve never loved Halloween. 

I’ll tolerate it. I’ll dress up. I’ll eat the leftover Halloween treats. But it’s not my top holiday choice. It’s not even top five. 

I went to a small Catholic school from grade 1 through 8. Though my family wasn’t Catholic, I was a very anxious child and my parents felt that the school’s emphasis on structure and routine would help quell some of my fears. The school was traditional. Uniforms, catechism classes, choir, chapel, and so on. Expectations were high and rules were firm, but clear. A failure to adhere would result in swift and certain consequences. 

I swam competitively at the time. I recall finishing a practice in the week leading up to Halloween. My teammates and I, smelling of chlorine, walked into the change room. The chatter du jour was about costume ideas for school. I don’t recall what the costume ideas were exactly, but I know that in that moment, I shrank into myself. Their costumes were cool. They were far better than mine. 

At my school, we didn’t dress up. Well, we did, but we dressed for All Saints Day, the day after Halloween. Halloween was not observed. And, worse (in my opinion as a ten-year-old), we had to dress up as our patron saint. This wasn’t horrible for some of my classmates. Some of them could dress up in long, feminine robes. Sure, they were old fashioned, but at least they didn’t have to dress up like I did. Here was the problem. Saint Hilary? Saint Hilary was a man. Patron saint of snake bites. I had to dress up like a man who’d died in 368 AD. Where was the fun in that? 

My aversion to Halloween actually pre-dates my Saint Hilary costume. As a young child, I was absolutely petrified of Halloween. Even the allure of candies we typically weren’t allowed at home wasn’t enough to cajole me into knocking on strangers’ doors (with my parents standing mere feet away and my younger, but far braver brother at my side). 

When I moved to a different school in grade 9, I let ‘er rip for Halloween. I cast aside the Saint costume I wore to school, and wore a horribly basic fairy costume so as to fit in. A pink tutu, wings, and other fairy fixings made for a costume that was sure to fit the bill. I wore that costume for several Halloweens. In fact, I wore a variation of that costume well into adulthood. I used the tutu one year when I was Marilyn Monroe. For several years, I used it when I was a ballerina. But I was never very invested in my Halloween costume or in Halloween at all. 

I wouldn’t say I am any more or any less invested in the idea of Halloween these days. Put it this way, I’ve been listening to Christmas music for weeks. I’d be quite happy to skip right over Halloween (sorry, Halloween fanatics). But Halloween in Beaver Creek is different. The size of the community means that everyone knows everyone and Halloween is centered around the kids and ensuring that they have fun. It is about community. 

At the teeny tiny school where I work, there’s great excitement leading up to Halloween. The kids know well in advance what costume they’ll be wearing. The adults also dress up. This year, my two colleagues and I are dressing up as the witches from Hocus Pocus. We decided on this weeks ago. 

I can feel the kids’ enthusiasm and the fact that I know them all means that I’m waiting with my own sense of anticipation for them to come to my door. Their costumes are normally hidden under thick layers of winter clothing. Some folks find out which candies the few kids here like best and cater to those preferences. On Halloween, the kids are the focus of the community. It’s nothing like the trick or treat experience I had in the city. 

I might’ve been a Halloween grinch in the past and some of those grinch like tendencies still exist, but here in Beaver Creek, I’m happy to get right into Halloween for the sake of the kids.