I remember this as a child for my love of candy never outweighed my need for comfort.
Walking around dark streets with all the bullies in town celebrating as if it were Christmas was never my idea of a special day (Bullies always liked me best). I’ve written before how I think I was born with the predisposition of Boo-Humbug even before they disguised me as a Cowboy at the age of three (my mother says Guajiro, I say Lone Ranger).
Plain and simple: I don’t like Halloween.
I never did and I never will.
Imagine, if you will, my unpopularity today as I don’t congratulate a child on his Ninja Turtle look or his Despicable Me outfit or her Zombie Princess garb.
I can’t get it through my mind that they are enjoying themselves, because I am too busy getting up from my recliner to open the door every five minutes for the crowds of kiddies echoing, ‘Trick or Treat’. Sometimes when I open the door and find a lanky six-foot teenager in a white t-shirt, jeans and an arrow drawn across his face, I surrender my bucket of dollar store candies (Have you ever heard of the knock-off brand Tutsy Rollups?) and close my door. Surely, Stretch, my new name for the kid, was ready to kill me if I did not give him all my candy.
Plain and simple: I fear Halloween.
Apart from the ritual of the knocking on doors and the dispensing of candy, I hate what Halloween does to me. It forces me to don the disguise of ‘Interested Party’. I have to pretend that I care or I might scar little Mikey’s psyche by not complimenting him on his ‘oh so cool pink kitty cat costume’. Proud mother at my door telling me, ‘He likes to express himself.’ and I at my door withholding my comments centering on an adult Mikey going by the name of ‘La Gata’ at a South Beach drag club.
Plain and simple: I can’t be myself on Halloween.
All year long I write from a place of honesty, deliver heartfelt messages and wear the look of Juan quite well. I’m comfortable in this skin and there is no debilitating itch as I wear my emotions on my sleeve.
Today, I have to pretend I get the hype. Today I have to change disguises and engage in the pagan traditions brought forth through time.
Today, I will wear the illusion of nice, fat, balding, just-over-middle-aged man and I will pretend to enjoy myself.
Plain and simple: I wear a costume on Halloween.
And, costumes itch – sometimes in the soul.