Growing up I loved Halloween. Every year the excitement going to town or the city to pick out the perfect costume. Normally more fun than scary. But of course, finding one big enough that my winter coat could go under did make it tricky at times. I don’t remember a lot of my costume as a kid, but some that I do or have seen photos of is a pumpkin, green m&m, black cat (my aunt made my tail), witch, some black-cloaked creature. But my favourite was the year I was monarch butterfly. Black dress, with orange wings when I lifted my arms, and an antenna headband, I felt like I could fly twirling around. I looked amazing at school, at night well... a winter coat got shoved under the costume, I tripped on my dress, and was not very reflective (pretty sure I ended up with reflective tape on me). But still my favourite costume.
My dad and I would carve pumpkins. My job was to get all of the guts out of the pumpkin and scrape it clean. His job was to carve an impossible creature, which resulted in a lot of sweating, some swearing. But a beautiful masterpiece at the end. I never carved my own pumpkin until I was sixteen, as that was always his job growing up.
If I was lucky on Halloween morning my mum would make pancakes in the shape of pumpkins. I would then get all dressed up in my costume, fancy hair (still in some form of a braid but often with funky colour or glitter sprayed in), and head to school.
Let’s be clear about one thing, as a child and still now, I hate to be scared. I have never watched a horror movie in my life, I have only ever been inside on haunted house (I was forced), the thought of things jumping out and touching me is enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack. But I still loved Halloween, just not the scary part.
See Halloween back home was the one night the whole community really felt like it would come together and make it the best night for all the kids. The night began after school, eating dinner watching the Great Pumpkin on Tv. Then we would all load up in my aunt or uncles car, my three cousins (sometimes 4), myself, and my mum. And drive around the whole rez. Since the houses are spaced out a bit further than in the city, we would hop out at one house, walk for a bit hitting up all the houses on one side of the road as we went, then hop back into the car to drive to the next block of houses. Emptying our pillowcases into bigger bags when they got too heavy to carry.
There was always a precise system as well, we would start off at one great aunt's house, who would do up special treat bags for all of us. The "family ones", pop, chips, full-size candy. It was the best start to the night. Then we worked our way up the road. Stopping at another great aunt's house, who owned a corner store where we were allowed to pick out anything we wanted. Which usually meant a giant jawbreaker, about the size of your fist. One we would lick and lick for about a week before our moms threw it out. Then more and more houses, finding the one each year that would do up homemade candy apples for all the kids in the community. Red and shiny they were my favourite treat to get of all time.
As it got darker it just became more fun. We would run into more kids and decorated houses. It was the one night a year I got to see most of the community as growing up living on one edge it was rare to make it to the other edge. This was the one night; other than the night when we checked out all the Christmas lights to see everything. See for me it was amazing to be out after dark, running free. Laughing and just having the most fun.
We would end the night normally back in my living room, candy sprawled all over the floor. Trading candy for chips, or swapping around full-size chocolate bars and pop, so everyone got their favourite. Our parents didn’t obsess over checking our candy for sharp objects, just instigating their candy tax, by picking out their favourites too from the stash.
Of course, there were the moments over the years were not that fun; the scary rez dogs on chains that would bark as you walked up to the house. When some houses would run out of candy. Or when it was so cold and windy your parents made you add snow pants to your outfit (then you looked ridiculous). Or the year I had face paint on, tripped and cut open my knee, cue the tears that then ruined my facepaint which resulted in more tears. Or when the sippy bags of juice would break in the bottom of your pillowcase resulting in a sticky disaster.
I never really realize how special this was until recently when I was chatting with other people about their Halloween as a kid. Yes, everyone one had a great time as a child, but they didn't have the same community feel. They didn't know all the people whose door they knocked on or didn’t load up in a car with music blasting having the most fun as you had too many people in the backseat.
Halloween was the one night of the year I fully felt like part of the community I grew up in.