Will That Be A Trick Or A Treat?
In only a matter of days, Hallowe'en will be upon us, and all things real will become unreal, all things substantial will become insubstantial, all things natural will become unnatural, and all things of this earth will become grotesquely unearthly.
The name of the Hallowe'en game is fantasy, and fantasy is your ticket to getting out of who you are and becoming someone or something you are not.
Want to be a princess? Hey, be that princess for a day. Want to be a superhero? Strap on that cape and off you go. Want to roam the realms of the undead? Well, so be it ... for a day and a night, you too can be a zombie.
As a boy, my favourite Hallowe'en costume was that of a tramp. I have no idea what the allure of being a tramp had for me, but every October 31st, I would disguise myself as a homeless wanderer of the world, riding the rails of my imagination from city to city in search of my next can of beans.
Dressed in the most slovenly attire that my mother could muster up from the pits of my father's closet, out I'd go into the night, with the prospect of collecting a year's worth of handouts, not beans exactly, unless beans can somehow become M&M's, Tootsie Rolls, and all those other candy concoctions that I collected in my bindle along the streets of Gruesome and Grimace in the town of Eerie.
I've often wondered if those early costumes that kids wore were some kind of weird prediction of what each of us would become. I mean, in many ways, I have lived my life as a kind of tramp — not homeless or broke — but more as a wanderer in search of some kind of meaning to my existence. If I have found that meaning, I certainly can't articulate it. I suppose the best that I can come up with is that you carry on, town to town, city to city, relationship to relationship, and you hope that in the end you will look back and say, "I did all right, I guess. Yes, for the most part, I did OK."
But what about those kids that dressed up as doctors or ghouls, knights in shining armour or serial killers. Did they become what they thought they were just playing at being?
Maybe.
Maybe, those early costumes that kids wore out on Hallowe'en were somehow symbolic of what fate might have had in mind for their futures.
So, if young Marsha dressed up as Barbie, was she tipping off the world that her long-term plan was to become a blonde trophy wife?
If pre-adolescent Alex dressed up as a vampire, was he secretly revealing to the world that, one day, he would become rich by sucking the funds out of the bank accounts of wealthy, lonely women?
If cute little Amelia donned a nurse's costume, would she someday develop an urgency to refuse care for dying patients in the geriatrics ward?
If suave Roberto strutted out of the house in a baseball uniform, would he someday crank himself full of steroids and maybe even pitch a no-hitter in the World Series?
If the somewhat boyish Alice from down the block dressed up as Tarzan every year, was she unintentionally demonstrating her desire to swing back and forth on a vine of some sort?
And what about little Luigi, swaggering down the street in a nun's habit? Was he truly destined to become some kind of transsexual bride of Christ, or just the "bride" of some ill-mannered priest?
So before you decide what to wear this Hallowe'en, remember that a costume is only effective if it truly hides who you really are. Be wary of dressing up in your secret desires, because people will make connections. People always make connections.
Not to worry though. Your secret-self will always be safe with me, because if there is one thing I learned in my boyhood Hallowe'en travels, it was that ... bum's the word ...
In only a matter of days, Hallowe'en will be upon us, and all things real will become unreal, all things substantial will become insubstantial, all things natural will become unnatural, and all things of this earth will become grotesquely unearthly.
The name of the Hallowe'en game is fantasy, and fantasy is your ticket to getting out of who you are and becoming someone or something you are not.
Want to be a princess? Hey, be that princess for a day. Want to be a superhero? Strap on that cape and off you go. Want to roam the realms of the undead? Well, so be it ... for a day and a night, you too can be a zombie.
As a boy, my favourite Hallowe'en costume was that of a tramp. I have no idea what the allure of being a tramp had for me, but every October 31st, I would disguise myself as a homeless wanderer of the world, riding the rails of my imagination from city to city in search of my next can of beans.
Dressed in the most slovenly attire that my mother could muster up from the pits of my father's closet, out I'd go into the night, with the prospect of collecting a year's worth of handouts, not beans exactly, unless beans can somehow become M&M's, Tootsie Rolls, and all those other candy concoctions that I collected in my bindle along the streets of Gruesome and Grimace in the town of Eerie.
I've often wondered if those early costumes that kids wore were some kind of weird prediction of what each of us would become. I mean, in many ways, I have lived my life as a kind of tramp — not homeless or broke — but more as a wanderer in search of some kind of meaning to my existence. If I have found that meaning, I certainly can't articulate it. I suppose the best that I can come up with is that you carry on, town to town, city to city, relationship to relationship, and you hope that in the end you will look back and say, "I did all right, I guess. Yes, for the most part, I did OK."
But what about those kids that dressed up as doctors or ghouls, knights in shining armour or serial killers. Did they become what they thought they were just playing at being?
Maybe.
Maybe, those early costumes that kids wore out on Hallowe'en were somehow symbolic of what fate might have had in mind for their futures.
So, if young Marsha dressed up as Barbie, was she tipping off the world that her long-term plan was to become a blonde trophy wife?
If pre-adolescent Alex dressed up as a vampire, was he secretly revealing to the world that, one day, he would become rich by sucking the funds out of the bank accounts of wealthy, lonely women?
If cute little Amelia donned a nurse's costume, would she someday develop an urgency to refuse care for dying patients in the geriatrics ward?
If suave Roberto strutted out of the house in a baseball uniform, would he someday crank himself full of steroids and maybe even pitch a no-hitter in the World Series?
If the somewhat boyish Alice from down the block dressed up as Tarzan every year, was she unintentionally demonstrating her desire to swing back and forth on a vine of some sort?
And what about little Luigi, swaggering down the street in a nun's habit? Was he truly destined to become some kind of transsexual bride of Christ, or just the "bride" of some ill-mannered priest?
So before you decide what to wear this Hallowe'en, remember that a costume is only effective if it truly hides who you really are. Be wary of dressing up in your secret desires, because people will make connections. People always make connections.
Not to worry though. Your secret-self will always be safe with me, because if there is one thing I learned in my boyhood Hallowe'en travels, it was that ... bum's the word ...
