Halloween reminisences

Because brittney promised me a dollar to not post about politics today, I am going to indulge her. A dollar's a dollar, after all!

Today, Sista Smiff says all I've ever wanted to say about the evangelical "Trunk or Treat" movement.

I grew up in the north, where we usually had at least one snowfall of some significance by Halloween, and, regardless of how great a seamstress your mother was (mine was great, btw), nobody could see your costume underneath your winter coat, anyway.

When I was young, my mom always made sure I had great costumes. When I was 5, I was Raggedy Ann, complete with a wig made from red yarn and a stocking cap. I tore a hole in my stripey tights when I tripped while running over to our neighbor's house and skinned my knee. My favorite costume was when I was in 3rd grade and we were living in teeny, tiny Royalton, Minnesota. My mom and my Aunt Christina got together and made a scarecrow costume for me out of burlap, complete with straw hanging out the cuffs of my top and pants. It looked really great; even now, 25 or so years later, I remember how itchy it was.

Now, our children are growing up in the south, and they are having a much different Halloween experience than I did. I do not believe that my childhood was any sort of rarefied experience, and I certainly don't think that it was any sort of more innocent time or any of that rot; it was a different time, and that's about it. Anyway. My daughter has never had to wear a winter coat over her costume, so nobody's ever been able to mistake her very-obviously-purchased-at-Party-City costumes for one lovingly sewn by her mother (my daughter's mother doesn't sew; she did take Home Ec. and failed the sewing part). And she doesn't particularly care for candy, either, which I find a little odd; a typical pre-Christmas task is dumping her plastic jack-o-lantern still full of T-or-T loot in the trash.

Today is Little Stupid Girl's 12th birthday, by the way. She got a cellphone. In the months leading up to this day, she lamented how everybody she knew had cellphones except her. I kept reminding her that I didn't get my first cellphone until I was 30. It was an artful dodge; she had no idea what she was getting.