When I grew up, Halloween was the kick-off to a long awaited holiday season.
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 complete with scarecrows and hay bales – why were party poopers invented?), small town parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single citizen seemed to show up) and trick-or-treating mania where I’d have to come home halfway through the evening and dump my candy (promptly hiding it all from my dad or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.
Lucky for me most of my life, I’ve always had my sister side kickin’ it as a partner-in-crime. If I was going to be dressing up (sometimes 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.
As we got a little older, I suppose we wanted to be edgy (or as edgy an elementary kid and toddler could be).
Then we graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory.
As we thought we were so grown up our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.
Only to remind ourselves in following years just how far from adults we were…
And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly 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 Halloween past. You should take a look at the old skeletons in your closet.
You aren’t a fraidy cat, are you?