Oh Halloween, how I’ve always loved thee. The 31st day of October was – and still remains – the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season for me.
In a small Iowa town where I was raised, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a fucking bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why are there fun haters? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens showed up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to 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.
In my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.
Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with Sister CBXB (you know, the one who called my dad a goddamn son of a bitch at the age of four) 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.
The ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years. Except for the tilt in our heads…and the fog in the background…and the overall sinisterness of this photo.
As we grew older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one as a two-headed monster, um, farmer?
We slid slightly into the ghoulish department as my sidekick joined me in grade school.
Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high. Pebbles was not impressed.
When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.
We were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister in the eighth grade.
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. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.
Scary season #1.
Scary season #2.
Scary season #3.
Scary season #4.
Scary season #5.
Scary Season #6.
Scary Season #7.
No matter how you choose to spend Halloween, here’s to having a side kickin’ ghoul for your spooky festivities.
Awesome Megan! Wonderful tribute to your Dad. And great memories of our home town! Just listened to your beautiful voice with Slow Dither! 💖