halloween, first blood

I can tell you where I was each year when I saw the first evidence that Halloween was approaching. This is true for the past ten years or so. Candy aisle at QFC Ballard, walking past Rite Aid in downtown Seattle, marquee at Ballard High School.... Since my birthday is the day after Halloween, it is as if each year a task force is deployed to remind me of my mortality. Yesterday, I was waiting in front of the WaMu tower for a shuttle to take me to our conference center and I turned to my right and glanced into the flower shop and panic swept over me. I saw a big orange and black sign with cats and bats and Happy Halloween on it. Not already?! I mumbled the obligatory swear word, as I do each year, and then counted the weeks until it arrives. About six. And how old will I be? 39. More swear words.

Halloween has always been a mixed bag for me, but most of the memories are good. In kindergarten I was a black cat and remember wearing my costume to school and being led on a playground parade. In first grade I was a pumpkin and I suspect this was not my choice. The costume was made of paper and it fell apart as the day at school progressed. I hated it and by the end of the day it was not holding up well at all. That was not a good year. I was a hobo, clown, and cowboy more than once--all good costumes in my book. I was ten and nearing the end of my trick-or-treating career when I finally convinced my mom to cut up yet another white sheet (she had done this at least three times before for older siblings) so I could be a ghost. That was a very good year.

These days I generally just wear some Halloween socks and leave it at that. I suspect it will be a lowkey year as I return to school two days later and will certainly have plenty of homework to do.