Throwback Thursday - Halloween Memories
Yesterday I said I had to salvage October so I need to put myself into an ooky spooky mindset. I need to summon the ghosts of Halloween past and make this October an awesome one. With all the crap that has been a-happening, it is hard to really let my love of all things ghoulish bubble over. I may be filled with homicidal rage but that just isn't enough. So I am going to try really really hard. The first place to start, I think, is to think back on Halloweens past from my childhood, specifically all the different costumes I wore. Nostalgia, it's a good thing.
Duesseldorf circa 1988 (aged 7): Oh how I wanted to be a witch. At the time I was reading a series of books about a teenage witch and a witch academy; "The Worst Witch". I loved these books. I wanted to be a witch so bad. I wanted to attend this academy. I loved the uniform. I used to sit in my Ikea closet and sit on a pile of pillows with a desk lamp shining light (fire death trap, right there) and read and read and daydream.
So that Fall I told my mom I wanted to be a witch. I believe in my old blog I already told this story but we are all aging so you probably forgot it so I'll tell it again. My mom went to London on a trip. I was already in bed asleep when she arrived home a few nights later. To surprise me, she placed the witch hat and costume she had purchased on a chair by the door. She wanted me to wake up in the morning and squeal with delight. Well, I did wake up. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a witch in the corner of my room by the door. Did I squeal? Probably in silence, out of fear. I was paralyzed and for the rest of the night I kept one eye open to make sure this creature would not come closer because I would hit her with my glitter filled baton before she could get the chance to disembowel me. Awesome. When daylight hit and I realized that I had wasted hours sweating in fear, I was very pleased with my costume. I wore it for days before Halloween. I was the "Worst Witch" but popular and put together. On the day of the big school Halloween parade, I proudly put on my costume and went to school and then had a little meltdown because all the other girls were pretty princesses and it kind of pissed me off and I wanted to be a pretty princess too. Yeah, I was an emotional kid drawn in by lace and petticoats. I should have sucked it up and been the awesome witch I was but instead I pouted. And then someone gave me chocolate and I was happy again. True story.
Ottawa circa 1990 (aged 9): We had just moved back to the Motherland (Canada) and luckily I had made a couple of friends. We all decided to be princesses that year for Halloween. So I volunteered (without consulting her first, big mistake, huge!) my mother to make the princess costumes for the three of us. Oh ha ha ha. Did I get in trouble. But you know what? My mom made those costumes. They were pink satin tunics with pink satin capes. The two girls came by and we got dressed and then they donned moon boots (because October 31st in Ottawa is always bitterly cold) and I was all like "THAT'S NOT AUTHENTIC! WOULD PRINCESS DIANA WEAR MOON BOOTS? I DON'T THINK SO!!" I am nothing if not a slave to perfection and authenticity. That was the year I learned that group costumes are not my thing because yes, I am anal. And you know what? I wore my cute Mary Janes and rocked the look. And almost lost a toe to frostbite. Dedication to CHARACTER!
Ottawa circa 1992 (aged 11): This was my last Halloween in Canada before we moved abroad again. I was just on the cusp of being too old to Trick or Treat but I was damned if I was going to miss out. ( Please note: I only had 3 authentic North American Halloweens. Difficult childhood) I was in the 6th grade and oddly really into Flower Power. To be honest, the lack of showering and hair products were not something I was aware of at that time. I just liked flared jeans and those acid flower sticker things that were making a comeback. So I decided to go as a hippie; if Paulie Shore was a hippie. I ripped my jeans. Wore a tie dye shirt and a long black wig. Under my jeans and t-shirt was thermal underwear (Remember, Ottawa Halloween). I paired my faux Birkenstocks with thick socks and tied a bandana around my weave. I was rocking it. My friend came over dressed as little Red Riding Hood and we set out with our pillowcases. People would open their front door and exclaim "Janis Joplin!" and I was very confused and said "No, Tova. Gimme candy." We walked allover the neighbourhood.
The evening progressed and we walked down a very dark street which had I not been doped up on Butterfingers, I might have noticed the gang of teenage boys heading our way. They stopped us and one pulled out a knife and said "Give us your candy." Now, maybe I was stupid but there was no way in hell that someone was going to take my candy. This was my night, MY CANDY! Joey doesn't share food!!! So I did the only sane thing I could think of and took off running with my friend. They didn't chase us and after a couple of blocks we stopped, caught our breath and started sobbing. But at least we had our candy! Who knew Rockcliffe Park in Ottawa had gangs? Not me!
And so, now I actually feel a little bit better now. There's something about tapping into your childhood memories to help bring a little Halloween spirit back into your life. Now I'm going to listen to the Monster Mash and dream of candy.
Duesseldorf circa 1988 (aged 7): Oh how I wanted to be a witch. At the time I was reading a series of books about a teenage witch and a witch academy; "The Worst Witch". I loved these books. I wanted to be a witch so bad. I wanted to attend this academy. I loved the uniform. I used to sit in my Ikea closet and sit on a pile of pillows with a desk lamp shining light (fire death trap, right there) and read and read and daydream.
So that Fall I told my mom I wanted to be a witch. I believe in my old blog I already told this story but we are all aging so you probably forgot it so I'll tell it again. My mom went to London on a trip. I was already in bed asleep when she arrived home a few nights later. To surprise me, she placed the witch hat and costume she had purchased on a chair by the door. She wanted me to wake up in the morning and squeal with delight. Well, I did wake up. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a witch in the corner of my room by the door. Did I squeal? Probably in silence, out of fear. I was paralyzed and for the rest of the night I kept one eye open to make sure this creature would not come closer because I would hit her with my glitter filled baton before she could get the chance to disembowel me. Awesome. When daylight hit and I realized that I had wasted hours sweating in fear, I was very pleased with my costume. I wore it for days before Halloween. I was the "Worst Witch" but popular and put together. On the day of the big school Halloween parade, I proudly put on my costume and went to school and then had a little meltdown because all the other girls were pretty princesses and it kind of pissed me off and I wanted to be a pretty princess too. Yeah, I was an emotional kid drawn in by lace and petticoats. I should have sucked it up and been the awesome witch I was but instead I pouted. And then someone gave me chocolate and I was happy again. True story.
Ottawa circa 1990 (aged 9): We had just moved back to the Motherland (Canada) and luckily I had made a couple of friends. We all decided to be princesses that year for Halloween. So I volunteered (without consulting her first, big mistake, huge!) my mother to make the princess costumes for the three of us. Oh ha ha ha. Did I get in trouble. But you know what? My mom made those costumes. They were pink satin tunics with pink satin capes. The two girls came by and we got dressed and then they donned moon boots (because October 31st in Ottawa is always bitterly cold) and I was all like "THAT'S NOT AUTHENTIC! WOULD PRINCESS DIANA WEAR MOON BOOTS? I DON'T THINK SO!!" I am nothing if not a slave to perfection and authenticity. That was the year I learned that group costumes are not my thing because yes, I am anal. And you know what? I wore my cute Mary Janes and rocked the look. And almost lost a toe to frostbite. Dedication to CHARACTER!
Ottawa circa 1992 (aged 11): This was my last Halloween in Canada before we moved abroad again. I was just on the cusp of being too old to Trick or Treat but I was damned if I was going to miss out. ( Please note: I only had 3 authentic North American Halloweens. Difficult childhood) I was in the 6th grade and oddly really into Flower Power. To be honest, the lack of showering and hair products were not something I was aware of at that time. I just liked flared jeans and those acid flower sticker things that were making a comeback. So I decided to go as a hippie; if Paulie Shore was a hippie. I ripped my jeans. Wore a tie dye shirt and a long black wig. Under my jeans and t-shirt was thermal underwear (Remember, Ottawa Halloween). I paired my faux Birkenstocks with thick socks and tied a bandana around my weave. I was rocking it. My friend came over dressed as little Red Riding Hood and we set out with our pillowcases. People would open their front door and exclaim "Janis Joplin!" and I was very confused and said "No, Tova. Gimme candy." We walked allover the neighbourhood.
The evening progressed and we walked down a very dark street which had I not been doped up on Butterfingers, I might have noticed the gang of teenage boys heading our way. They stopped us and one pulled out a knife and said "Give us your candy." Now, maybe I was stupid but there was no way in hell that someone was going to take my candy. This was my night, MY CANDY! Joey doesn't share food!!! So I did the only sane thing I could think of and took off running with my friend. They didn't chase us and after a couple of blocks we stopped, caught our breath and started sobbing. But at least we had our candy! Who knew Rockcliffe Park in Ottawa had gangs? Not me!
And so, now I actually feel a little bit better now. There's something about tapping into your childhood memories to help bring a little Halloween spirit back into your life. Now I'm going to listen to the Monster Mash and dream of candy.
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