Happy Halloween

Last night Jill and I couldn't resist looking at photos of them as children in their Halloween costumes. There they were lined up at the back door franticly waiting to leave. Pictures, I always needed pictures. Bill's mom worked tirelessly on their costumes year after year. Every year they had a new one. They were clowns, bunnies, leopards, and even a chocolate chip cookie. Jackie thought that one up on her own and grandma put together a brilliant costume for her.
I remember many a Halloween with them. Bill stayed home and handed out candy. The three of us joined our neighbour and freind, Shirley, and their kids to canvass the neighborhood. Like their costumes the weather was never the same from year to year. I recall more bone chilling, cold and snowy nights than I did warm autumn ones in Regina. The most memorable one was when we had an arctic front fall down and leave snow up to my thigh on the streets. There was never any question in the children's mind that we were going out. We managed to do a half dozen neighbourhood houses and the kids wanted to quit. The kids gave it their best try, but winter won that one.
I recall the Halloween that both the girls broke out in Chicken pox a few hours before we were to go out. That was a very sad Halloween for the girls. As their freinds came to trick or treat, they could only watch. So many tears. However as word got out to family and freinds that they weren't able to go out, they were given candies from everywhere. They did better that year than they did on any other Halloween.
When I was young, I really “hated” Halloween. I know that I must have been the only kid in the sixties that did not want to go out and begged mom not to go out. There are so many reasons for that. The biggest one was that I was very shy and it took a real act of faith to go to a strangers door and ask for candy. Mom and dad sent my younger sister and I with our older brother who couldn't wait to ditch us down the street. It didn't help that we never had costumes. We went as cowgirls or as “Indians”. Mom cut a hole in a “gunny sack” and there I was in this shapless itchy brown bag. What is a gunny sack anyway? I remember every year I wished for one of those Halloween masks to wear. That was at least cool and I could hide my face. One year I did get my wish. To my dismay it was hot. It was impossible to see out to see where you were going. And the smell. To this day, I can still smell the mask.
The final reason for not liking the Halloween thing was that the candies were less than remarkable. More than half the candy was the hard toffee candy kisses. I disliked them. In my day, the candies were that, suckers, bubble gum, and other unwrapped terrible tasting candies. Rockets were my favorite. If word got out that someone was giving away apples, we would run to that location. Chocolate bars were unheard of, well at least in my neighbourhood. When we got home there would be the inevitable looking through our booty and the always fight inducing trading issues with my brothers and sister.
I was so happy when I was finally old enough to stay home.
A few years back my granddaughter was out on her first Halloween night in their new neighborhood. She was definitely pre-school age. It was a stormy and extremely cold wintry night. Bill and I had gone over to be there during this exciting time. Alanna and Chris were back in less than an hour. They were absolutely frozen. I asked Alanna all about her experience. She plunked herself down on the step of the stairs. She was still in her unicorn costume and plainly said to us; “it's just not worth it.”
That is my granddaughter!
WKH

WRITING IN THE WORKING WORLD

“Beware the barrenous of a busy life.”
by Socrates

My writing callus on my finger has softened, my journal pages are fewer and the days between the blogs are many more. I miss my journalling.
I forgot how much working full time takes out of a life. It is not just the 8 hours at work, but it is also the half hour commute on either side. It is the getting dressed up and made up in something other than jeans and a t-shirt. It is arriving 10 to 15 minutes early and leaving a few minutes late. It is doing all the necessary living things in the precious few evening hours after work. It is re prioritizing life to fit in the most important tasks before bedtime rolls around and that hour seems to sneak up on me all too easily.
Reading and writing have taken the brunt of my new priorities. However for almost three years I have been writing about my world. I have learned to look at the ordinary and see extraordinary things in them. My work world has given me so many new observations to a life I have not participated in for a time. The stories are roaming restlessly inside of me. I try to give them form and yet somehow the day passes without a word written. Silently I file them away until the time is right to write.
My words and stories will wait for me. Will You?
WKH