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Health & Fitness

Keep Your Garland, I'll Take The Ghouls

The jolly old man in the red suit with a white beard is fine...but I'll take the Great Pumpkin over him any day!

A few days ago, a radio personality mentioned how many days there were left until Christmas. I'm sure someone else listening may very well have freaked that they hadn't started their shopping yet.  As for me, hearing the countdown only reminded me how little time I have left to get ready for MY favorite holiday of the entire year: Halloween.

Growing up in Queens, my mom decorated our home for every single holiday. Shamrocks and leprechauns adorned windows for St. Patty's Day.  An 'Egg Tree' bore carefully hand painted eggs every Easter.  Valentine's Day and Thanksgiving saw their share of decor as well. Christmas, of course, was the big one: figurines, tablecloths, garland, lights -- you name it, the house was covered in it.

But for some reason, it was October that I looked forward to the most.  Back then there were no inflatables, or orange lights to light up the yard.  Mom had my dad take an old plastic trick-or-treat pumpkin, cut out the back and fit it over the light adjacent to our front door.

The inside of the house, however, was a different story: Mom had boxes filled with figurines, cut out witches, a tablecloth covered in ghosts and a number of vintage decorations from when she was a little girl.  My favorites were the papier-mâché pumpkins and skulls with gaping eye sockets and crooked grins.  I get goose bumps now just thinking about those hollow eyes flickering with a candle behind them.

Being a child of the 70's, Mom would take me early in October to one of the remaining variety stories where I could rummage through the Ben Cooper pre-packaged costumes.  I remember one year dressing as Darth Vader, complete with the mask with the unbelievably uncomfortable rubber band that went around your head.  Another year I was Batman -- on the front of the costume was the bat symbol along with the word "BATMAN."  Like I was going to forget who I was.

Starting October 1st and until it was listed, I would drive my poor Dad crazy, making him go through the TV Guide each week to make sure we didn't miss "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."  I always felt awful for poor Charlie Brown, wishing that someone would finally take pity on him and give him just one candy bar.  But it didn't stop me from giggling every time he reached into his bag, pulled out the contents and lamented, "I got a ROCK!"

One October afternoon I came home from school to find Mom had a present for me: a record simply titled "Halloween."  The album cover was yellow like a full moon and adorned with a child's black-crayoned scribblings of pumpkins, witches, cats and tombstones.

I remember placing the record on my little record player in my bedroom and nervously lowering the arm until the needle began to hit the first groove.  At first, my room was filled with the sounds of crickets chirping, and the mournful hoot of an owl.  Suddenly, chains rattled.  A cat howled.  There were footsteps followed by a ghoulish moan. 

And then it began -- that song and the words that I can hear in my head right now as I write this:

"H. A. Double-L-O. W. Double-E. N...Spells HALLOWEEN!" 

Back then, my appreciation for classical music was limited solely to the music I heard in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, so it would be some time until I realized that the song was played to the tune of  "Danse Macabre."  All I knew -- all that mattered -- was that this album was made for me.  It sang of my love for ghosts, goblins, clattering skeletons and gobs of candy. 

As the years passed, my love for Halloween continued to grow.  While the other kids outgrew trick-or-treating and were chasing each other with eggs and shaving cream, I was still picking a costume, even if I was too embarrassed to go hawking for candy.  One year in my teens, I offered to go to my aunt and uncle's neighborhood to 'chaperone' my younger cousins while they went trick or treating. Of course, it was a cleverly planned ruse so that I could throw on my uncle's old army jacket and hat, grab a pillowcase, and beg for candy, safe from the judgments of my peers back home.

Now in my forties and with a family of my own, I've taken my love of Halloween to all-new levels.  On weekends in October I can be found at any of the local Haunted attractions, such as the Bayville Scream Park or The Haunted House of Melville.  Otherwise you'll find me tinkering in my front yard adorned with an inflatable hearse, a ghoulish organist, orange lights, a sinister scarecrow and an ever-expanding cemetery.

Two years ago, I created my own 'spooky fence' for the graveyard out of PVC pipe, pieces of 1X2, and plastic skulls as toppers.  My display pales in comparison to some of the other amazing setups in the neighborhood (you gotta see the Pirate House of Wantagh), but I still had plenty of folks stop to take pictures (along with me dressed as the Grim Reaper).

Anyone else there a big fan of Halloween?  Share you favorite stories!

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