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Editorial Note: The original version of this article referred to the people who love Halloween themed items as “The Spooky Season Fuckos.” It has been changed to GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS by an editor who is a proud Spooky Season Fucko.
Fall is always my favorite time of the year. The sky softens and the bright green grass mellows into ambers and browns. As a lover of fall, I’m starting to feel more and more at war with these GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS. I don’t have any issues with Halloween or camp horror movies or skeleton costumes, just do it some other time. October is the most beautiful month of the year. Why do we have to cover that beauty under some black and orange blanket? Take September or June or March. Heck, replace Valentine's Day AND Thanksgiving. We don’t need either. Just let me savor my falling leaves and gentle winds in peace.
This year--feeling upset and wanting to make a point--I decided not to wear a Halloween costume. I always try to live out the change I want to see in the world. I can’t control the space-horny billionaires or the clowns in congress, but I can try to control my own life. And the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS have already taken enough ground. If I walk into a hardware store in September, it looks like El Vira is having a yard sale. And why is a hardware store selling jack-o-lantern pillows anyway? You sell wood! How did this become part of your job? I might be getting off track, but the point is a fair one.
(Some of you might be thinking, “But I saw you in a costume this Halloween, what gives?” And to you I say: That is clearly the point of this whole story. Be patient.)
As autumn bloomed, I still put out pumpkins. I just didn’t give them glowing triangle eyes. I still dressed in fall colors, but I avoided black and that bright crayon orange. When my friend Debra gave me skeleton earrings, I crafted some tiny fall clothes for them.
I tried to be kind. I tried to be open to the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS around me. But most of all, I tried not to draw attention to myself. When Debra asked what I did to her earrings, I didn’t say: “You GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS are ruining my favorite fucking month. Let me have this!” I just said, “Don’t you love it?” and then ran away quickly. (I find that when a conversation is looking a little touchy, the best solution is to get out of there asap.)
Because I tried to keep quiet about my autumnal protest, I know that what happened next wasn’t personal. That--of course--doesn’t mean that I’m not still a little upset. I mean, it’s perfectly fine to want people to wear costumes all day on Halloween. But in most communities, that would just be an email blast. Maybe a few signs. But that wasn’t enough for our fine GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS in Eastie. They went door to door and person to person getting everyone to promise that yes, they would wear a costume all day. The Halloween canvassers even wore these goofy black sashes with orange skeleton patches. I still think the real purpose of this overly-organized campaign was to send the message that if anyone didn’t wear a Halloween costume, these GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS could very easily tear Eastie to the fucking ground.
My husband wants me to let you know that I didn’t really think anyone would “tear Eastie to the ground.” But he isn’t writing this article and I’m still upset.
I wasn’t home when Fred, our local Halloween police officer, came by and my husband promised we would both wear costumes. I had already written out my little prepared speech on a legal pad I was keeping by the door, so theoretically he could have just read it for me. But instead, the coward stabbed me in the back.
Then he got mad at me. He said that I was being preposterous. So I started explaining my philosophy about living out the change I want to see in the world. How, if people could only live more like me, we wouldn’t need to have things like war or Twitter. When I eventually ran out of steam, Greg took a deep breath and then said:
"Do you know how army ants survive a flood? They can link their arms and form a ball together. Rolling the ball, they take brief turns underwater, which gives them all enough time to breathe so they can survive until they get somewhere dry. But it only works if all of the ants work together. If some ants decide they want to try something different or they decide that they aren’t willing to go underwater at all, it could cause the whole ball to fall apart and then all of the ants would die. So if one ant starts to act selfishly, the other ants will kill it and hold its body in place in the ball. It sounds mean, but the other option is that all of the ants die. Do you get the point I’m trying to make? Do you see why you need to wear a Halloween costume?"
Talk about being spooked and scared. There is no seasonal skeleton coffee mug that is as scary as the thought that your husband might squash you like a bug because you won’t wear a Halloween costume.
Also, I can’t promise that the story about ants is true. Greg is a lot better at being a burned out leftist than he is at being an ant scientist.
In the end, I decided to wear a costume; not because I understood how Greg’s point about army ants has anything to do with Halloween, but because it was important to him and I really do love him quite a lot. I still went as a pumpkin, though, because that felt like middle ground. I wasn’t ready to give up completely.
And I will concede that it was fun. I had leaf earrings and fall colored socks and even wore some cheap cinnamon perfume I got in a godforsaken gift basket a few years ago. Plus, it was fun to see my friends dressed up like giant crayons and vampires. (Some of the teen costumes even helped me find some new TV shows to watch. Greg and I got HBO Max to watch the West Wing, but this last week or so we’ve started watching Euphoria and I’ve never been so scared for teens these days. But I’m getting off-track again.)
I also realized that it did feel weird when I saw the rare person in street clothes. I wanted to reach out to them and say, “I thought I was too good for this too, but give it a go. Let me be your pushy husband who makes you have fun. It’s fun, don’t you see?”
At the end of the night, a few dozen of us gathered around the fire pit by the library to make s’mores and drink gross pumpkin beers. We grew lazy as we got drunker and sleepier. Someone, I don’t really remember who, went into the library and brought out a projector and a DVD of Let’s Scare Jessica to Death. Sure, it’s a movie about the undead, but it’s also about home renovation and small farms, so I’m still going to count this as meeting the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS halfway.
Towards the end of the evening, Greg leaned over and said, “Aren’t you glad you played along?” And I whispered back, “Fuck you.” Because I still think I’m right. We should move Halloween to another month. But I realize other people might be right, too.
Fall is always my favorite time of the year. The sky softens and the bright green grass mellows into ambers and browns. As a lover of fall, I’m starting to feel more and more at war with these GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS. I don’t have any issues with Halloween or camp horror movies or skeleton costumes, just do it some other time. October is the most beautiful month of the year. Why do we have to cover that beauty under some black and orange blanket? Take September or June or March. Heck, replace Valentine's Day AND Thanksgiving. We don’t need either. Just let me savor my falling leaves and gentle winds in peace.
This year--feeling upset and wanting to make a point--I decided not to wear a Halloween costume. I always try to live out the change I want to see in the world. I can’t control the space-horny billionaires or the clowns in congress, but I can try to control my own life. And the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS have already taken enough ground. If I walk into a hardware store in September, it looks like El Vira is having a yard sale. And why is a hardware store selling jack-o-lantern pillows anyway? You sell wood! How did this become part of your job? I might be getting off track, but the point is a fair one.
(Some of you might be thinking, “But I saw you in a costume this Halloween, what gives?” And to you I say: That is clearly the point of this whole story. Be patient.)
As autumn bloomed, I still put out pumpkins. I just didn’t give them glowing triangle eyes. I still dressed in fall colors, but I avoided black and that bright crayon orange. When my friend Debra gave me skeleton earrings, I crafted some tiny fall clothes for them.
I tried to be kind. I tried to be open to the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS around me. But most of all, I tried not to draw attention to myself. When Debra asked what I did to her earrings, I didn’t say: “You GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS are ruining my favorite fucking month. Let me have this!” I just said, “Don’t you love it?” and then ran away quickly. (I find that when a conversation is looking a little touchy, the best solution is to get out of there asap.)
Because I tried to keep quiet about my autumnal protest, I know that what happened next wasn’t personal. That--of course--doesn’t mean that I’m not still a little upset. I mean, it’s perfectly fine to want people to wear costumes all day on Halloween. But in most communities, that would just be an email blast. Maybe a few signs. But that wasn’t enough for our fine GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS in Eastie. They went door to door and person to person getting everyone to promise that yes, they would wear a costume all day. The Halloween canvassers even wore these goofy black sashes with orange skeleton patches. I still think the real purpose of this overly-organized campaign was to send the message that if anyone didn’t wear a Halloween costume, these GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS could very easily tear Eastie to the fucking ground.
My husband wants me to let you know that I didn’t really think anyone would “tear Eastie to the ground.” But he isn’t writing this article and I’m still upset.
I wasn’t home when Fred, our local Halloween police officer, came by and my husband promised we would both wear costumes. I had already written out my little prepared speech on a legal pad I was keeping by the door, so theoretically he could have just read it for me. But instead, the coward stabbed me in the back.
Then he got mad at me. He said that I was being preposterous. So I started explaining my philosophy about living out the change I want to see in the world. How, if people could only live more like me, we wouldn’t need to have things like war or Twitter. When I eventually ran out of steam, Greg took a deep breath and then said:
"Do you know how army ants survive a flood? They can link their arms and form a ball together. Rolling the ball, they take brief turns underwater, which gives them all enough time to breathe so they can survive until they get somewhere dry. But it only works if all of the ants work together. If some ants decide they want to try something different or they decide that they aren’t willing to go underwater at all, it could cause the whole ball to fall apart and then all of the ants would die. So if one ant starts to act selfishly, the other ants will kill it and hold its body in place in the ball. It sounds mean, but the other option is that all of the ants die. Do you get the point I’m trying to make? Do you see why you need to wear a Halloween costume?"
Talk about being spooked and scared. There is no seasonal skeleton coffee mug that is as scary as the thought that your husband might squash you like a bug because you won’t wear a Halloween costume.
Also, I can’t promise that the story about ants is true. Greg is a lot better at being a burned out leftist than he is at being an ant scientist.
In the end, I decided to wear a costume; not because I understood how Greg’s point about army ants has anything to do with Halloween, but because it was important to him and I really do love him quite a lot. I still went as a pumpkin, though, because that felt like middle ground. I wasn’t ready to give up completely.
And I will concede that it was fun. I had leaf earrings and fall colored socks and even wore some cheap cinnamon perfume I got in a godforsaken gift basket a few years ago. Plus, it was fun to see my friends dressed up like giant crayons and vampires. (Some of the teen costumes even helped me find some new TV shows to watch. Greg and I got HBO Max to watch the West Wing, but this last week or so we’ve started watching Euphoria and I’ve never been so scared for teens these days. But I’m getting off-track again.)
I also realized that it did feel weird when I saw the rare person in street clothes. I wanted to reach out to them and say, “I thought I was too good for this too, but give it a go. Let me be your pushy husband who makes you have fun. It’s fun, don’t you see?”
At the end of the night, a few dozen of us gathered around the fire pit by the library to make s’mores and drink gross pumpkin beers. We grew lazy as we got drunker and sleepier. Someone, I don’t really remember who, went into the library and brought out a projector and a DVD of Let’s Scare Jessica to Death. Sure, it’s a movie about the undead, but it’s also about home renovation and small farms, so I’m still going to count this as meeting the GOOD AND KIND HALLOWEEN LOVERS halfway.
Towards the end of the evening, Greg leaned over and said, “Aren’t you glad you played along?” And I whispered back, “Fuck you.” Because I still think I’m right. We should move Halloween to another month. But I realize other people might be right, too.
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