As a kid, I loved Halloween. It was the novelty of all that free candy, but also the thrill of being out at night, along with hordes of other little terrors. It was the one time of year that the night belonged to us.
One of my clearest memories was of walking with my friends and seeing, off in the distance, a tall, creepy witch, complete with pointy hat and crooked nose, standing over a huge caldron, stirring it with a wooden ladle the size of a canoe paddle.
As we approached, we could see billows of steam rising up from the green liquid. She cackled wildly as she handed us a Styrofoam cup of the toxic-looking concoction.
I was genuinely terrified, but entranced. I took a tentative sip. What?! Sweet, cold, lime Kool Aid. Man, I love Halloween.
OK, dry ice was creating the thick fog. That tall, skinny witch? My classmate’s teenage sister, and that ladle was, in fact, a canoe paddle. But, at the time, the thrill of danger and crossing into the unknown sparked something unforgettable. As time’s gone by, and mysteries are explained, I can’t say I’ve had so many of those moments.
When I had kids of my own, however, my love of Halloween was rekindled. What I loved, in part, was all the excitement and anticipation, without the angst that often goes with planning birthday parties or shopping for Christmas. And the thrill of being outdoors at night when human (and ghostly) traffic dominates the roads, has never waned.
What was new to me was fireworks. I grew up in Alberta and lived for years in Ontario, where fireworks are pretty well reserved for Canada Day and maybe New Year’s Eve.
One of the first years I was here, Halloween fell on a cloudless Saturday night — and a firework bans had yet to be enacted. Looking over our back deck, we could see our neighbours with their friends, three or four couples, all with a beer in hand. The men were in the yard trying to set off their explosives, the women stood watching warily on the balcony, offering commentary — you can imagine how that went over.
It was a hilarious Gong Show; while some of their pyrotechnics launched skyward, others forced you to duck. I think that was the year Coun. Derek Dang’s hedge caught on fire thanks to an errant explosive. Soon after, they were banned.
The thought of handing out unpackaged Kool Aid is inconceivable these days. And there’s nothing smart about people who don’t know what they’re doing lighting explosives. (I’m truly grateful my son is pushing 20 and still has all his digits.) Still, there’s something to be said for the occasional walk on the wild side. Halloween is a night during which the “veil between the living and the dead grows most thin.” The trick is peeking through that veil without ending up on the wrong side.
