Getting into the "Spirit" of Halloween

Around the big old houses in my neighborhood which tend to be spooky anyway, skeletons are springing up in front yards and witches are flying suspended in trees.

My decorations, like my home, are considerably more modest in comparison. I am thinking of picking up a cheap plastic ghost to hang on the screen door.

My boyfriend has already put three pumpkins on the front step. Combined with the occasional ghostly cat in the window (see photo) and the dead leaves I tend not to sweep away, they could create an eerie ambiance if you squint just right.

I'm not a big Halloween lover. I always thought the depictions of death and violence were, well, scary. I don't like being scared. Real life is frightening enough, what with supervolcanos and congressional gridlock and the like.

Because some past Halloweens have overlapped  with personal experiences of illness and death, I don't particularly think fake cemeteries in front yards are funny.

But I'm in the minority.

Perhaps its the skeletal appearance of trees recently shed of leaves, or the longer, darker nights, but this time of year, people seem preoccupied with the specter of death. In Mexico, Dia de Muertos mocks it with colorful celebrations and comic ghoulishness. In some Christian traditions, less fun of course, All Saints and All Souls Days solemnly commemorate those who have passed on.

Most of us in the U.S. mainstream culture, however, dress up in fanciful costumes, drape fake spider webs around our homes, and give lots of candy to children.

As a child, I happily participated in Halloween traditions. Every year, I wore a cheap plastic mask through which I could barely breathe, the condensation building around my mouth until I had to lift it away from my face. I blindly felt skinned grapes which I was told were eyes and ran my fingers through cold spaghetti which felt like brains. I scrupulously avoided apples and popcorn balls which could be laced with razor blades. I watched the Charlie Brown Halloween special hoping year after year that maybe, just maybe, this time the Great Pumpkin would show up for Linus, but he never did.

Frankly, what I enjoy most about Halloween is that it kind of kicks off the holidays for the rest of the year. After trick or treat, it's only a short stretch to Thanksgiving, followed by my birthday which ranks high on the celebration scale, and Christmas, of course.

This year, however, I'm in a new home where neighbors go all out with the spooky decorations. I have to consider the possibility that there will be children knocking at my door expecting candy. I should probably up my game a little and get into the, quote, spirit of the season. I had better get that plastic ghost on my door.

Traditions Bring Meaning to the Holidays

Ah Thanksgiving! When people of every faith (or none at all) gather with family and friends to reflect on the good things in their lives.

Many cultural traditions play out this week. It’s the one occasion when most of us eat turkey. It’s the busiest time of year at airports. It’s when we untangle the colored lights, plug them in, and check whether enough bulbs are burned out to justify buying a whole new string.

There are traditions unique to each family. Some like the cornbread Stove Top stuffing mix while others prefer the herb flavored. Others mix the turkey dinner with traditional ethnic food. Some, for example, garnish sweet potatoes with layers of brown sugar and thousands of mini-marshmallows.

And what would Thanksgiving be without the crystal dish holding the traditional jellied cranberry sauce in the shape of a tin can?

It’s these folksy customs which add color and distinctiveness to a celebration. We have a little gem in my family which is repeated every Thanksgiving.

At some point during the preparation of the traditional meal, the cook, usually the host, turns to the guests who have congregated around the food preparation area, and from the heart, with all the feeling a major holiday can inspire, says:

"Ok. That’s it. Get the HELL out of my kitchen."

The first year of this request to vacate was at my sister's house. Her mother-in-law, several guests, and her sister, brothers, and nieces were milling around half prepared dishes of food, adding chaos to an already chaotic situation. The noise level had risen to the point where the two inhabitants of the adjacent living room were unable to hear each other. Without warning, my sister cried the famous words which have so oft been repeated.

Experience had taught those of us related to her by blood to do what she said. Her brothers, sister, and nieces left the kitchen immediately. Unaware of the risk to their health and well being, the less-experienced in-laws and friends laughed and remained huddled around the counters. I was too afraid to peek in and see what happened next.

Kitchens are instinctive gathering places. It probably dates to those chilly Thanksgivings celebrated by early homosapiens who lived in caves. To escape the relentless cold, all the cavepeople and their families and friends gathered around the fire for warmth -the same fire over which the cavehosts cooked the traditional mammoth meat.

In the 21st century, the living room is also warm, but as the guests arrive, they intuitively migrate to the kitchen, chatting happily as the cook/host struggles to create counter space.

Meanwhile, the living room, where chairs are carefully placed to facilitate traffic flow and maximize social interaction, is empty - except for the cats who have discovered that the appetizers on the coffee table have been left unattended.

Does Martha Stewart ever have to deal with this stuff?

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy my guests and I'm happy people like spending this special day in my home. I like talking and catching up as much as anyone.

But it's stressful to coordinate a large dinner which you only prepare once a year, juggling an unnaturally large bird which was frozen just the day before in a floppy disposable foil roasting pan, monitoring several side dishes which need various amounts of heating, checking on rolls which can easily burn, and timing it perfectly so that its ready to eat all at the same time.

About the point where the turkey is done, the corn needs 30 more minutes, and it's time to start the gravy - a delicate and precision operation which could affect the outcome of the whole dinner - I wave my baster in the air and bellow the traditional holiday plea.

Stunned, most people back away, out to what's left of the appetizers.

Fortunately, my momentary lapse in hospitality is forgotten as soon as the steaming gravy flows over the mashed potatoes.

Happy Thanksgiving!