I particularly like Halloween, because its one of those few times in
American culture, when people are encouraged to talk to their
neighbors. Bands of spookily clad folks roam through neighborhoods, and
nobody calls the police. People gainfully reclaim public space, and
redefine how they interact with others. We need more citizen-driven
spectacle, so I really support this holiday.
I’ve loved Halloween since I was a kid. I remember when I was in junior high I told a girl: “I wish Halloween could last for 30 days like Ramadan!” She said “um… I’m not Jewish.”
That being said, I haven’t had a proper Halloween in years. In college I remember doing several costume changes over the days leading up to the 31st. I dressed like a “slutty soldier” and “a notable reggae performer.” One year my roommates and I dressed as Otter Pops, the flavored icicles. We also found corresponding flavors of MD 20/20, a fortified wine. (MD 20/20 stands for Mogen David, so I think it’s the premier “Kosher bum wine.”)
After college I lived in Mexico. They don’t celebrate the Americanized version of the holiday (though they’re starting to) because they observe their own pre-Hispanic semi-religious un-official holiday: “Dia de los Muertos.”
For anyone who grew up near Circleville, Ohio, the possibilities of
pumpkin are a measure of one's maturity, one's level of sophistication,
the depth of one's world view. There, in a town that would otherwise be
unknown, is the Circleville Pumpkin Show -- four days of unabashed
Americana that, since 1903, have featured seven parades each year and a
range of pumpkin contests to rival the Olympics. The medium is accorded
such respect that the farmer who produces the largest pumpkin is
considered agriculture's own Einstein. The premier pumpkin carver is
accorded an awe worthy of Michelangelo.
I live in West Hollywood, where Halloween is like a national
holiday – arrangements for street closures have been made well in
advance and people from all over will come watch the flagrant and the
flamboyant, the political and the theatrical, the absurd and the
sublime march along Santa Monica Boulevard, from La Cienega to Doheny.
Candy is not an integral part of this spectacle and frankly that's the
only thing that rankles me about it.
When my brother and I were 4 1/2 we were taken to see a movie called X-76 Bloodrust. I can’t find a single living soul who has ever heard of this movie. Not even John Landis. What I gleaned about the plot, which was observed through a space between two fingers covering my eyes, was that this undulating creature (that looked like vomit, by the way) was created in a Sparkletts bottle, and if it touched you, you would die. I think it might have been the poorer cousin of The Blob.