Growing up (and still today), Halloween was the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season.
In the small Iowa town where I grew up, we had costume parties at school (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why were party poopers invented?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single on of the 1,200 citizens seemed to show up) and trick-or-treating mania where I’d have to come home halfway through the evening – and dump my candy hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.
Carrying the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself, being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.
Therefore, I begged my parents to procreate so I could have a partner in crime. And lucky for me, I was presented with my sister who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by God (town parades included).
In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.
And the ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years. Except for the tilt in our heads. And the fog in the background…
As we got a little older, I suppose we wanted to be edgy (or as edgy an elementary kid and toddler could be). I let my young inner badass out, as my sister started to scare the pants off no one.
We kept it in the almost scary department as my sister joined me in grade school.
Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high. Pebbles looks less than horrified as I try my best scare tactic on her.
As we thought we were oh so grown up our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.
Only to remind ourselves in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from previous years (where’s the green hair spray? Lose your creative juices and get lazy on us, Mom?!) hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating.
And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.
Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloweens past. I can’t wait to see what her little monsters will be for their first Halloween.
You should take a look at the old skeletons in your closet.
You aren’t a fraidy cat, are you?