Halloween represents the pinnacle of my favorite time of the year, fall. As a resident of the Chicagoland area, I have to say fall provides some of the most ideal weather one can experience. Yes, there are dreary days, but no weather can rival the quintessential fall day: mid 50s to mid 60s---light breeze; cool enough to be refreshing without needing a jacket; just sunny enough to feel pleasant. What’s more, in fall everything is fresh. I still feel optimistic about school work and motivated to branch out socially before the winter forces me back into my life as a hermit.
Halloween seems to almost always come at the climax of this beautiful time of the year, and I hardily embrace it as a celebration of the wonders of fall. I fully support all things ghosts and ghouls as well as the freedom of expression Halloween dress provides.
However, “maturity” and more recently legal “adulthood” have managed to diminish my personal Halloween experience. The past two years, I have celebrated Halloween by hosting a bonfire with a small group of friends and possibly venturing to the odd haunted attraction. These celebrations have been inadequate; I struggle to fully come to terms with the fact that trick-or-treating is no longer a socially acceptable activity for me as a 19-year-old.
If there’s anyone out there my age who has the balls to still go around trick-or-treating, I want your autograph and some self-confidence lessons. Ever since an elderly lady asked me, “Shouldn’t you be working?” as she handed me candy on Halloween my freshman year of high school, I have been psychologically incapable of continuing one of my most cherished childhood pastimes. After Monday I will have gone four years without my annual acquisition of seven pounds of free candy.
Why is it such a big deal to me? I can easily make a four-minute walk to CVS, purchase all the cheap candy I want and return to my dorm to enjoy it without expending nearly the same amount of effort walking several miles to collect candy required as a kid. Furthermore, if I participate in the college Halloween festivities, I could potentially get just as sick as I did as a youngster consuming way too many sweets.
It must be the innocence. Especially as a preteen, Halloween was the one time every year when we sort of had the opportunity to venture out on our own and take risks. Even if that meant simply approaching the scarily decorated house in the neighborhood with the older kids hiding in the bushes, ready to pounce on young trick-or-treaters, and the dad standing 50 feet away, revving his old rusty chainsaw that he doesn’t use anymore because he can afford landscapers, we had a chance to push the boundaries of our personal comfort zones. I remember the first time my mom let me go trick-or-treating with friends and no parental supervision. That was exhilarating, I felt as if I had reached the next crucial step in my life; moving off to college was just around the corner, what’s another eight years anyway?
The shifting purpose of wearing costumes also makes me long for the innocent days of trick-or-treating. Don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed when I hear girls talking about assembling four costumes, one for each day of college Halloween. I’m sure it’s difficult to find four separate ways to wear scant clothing and I appreciate the fact that these outfits, if only indirectly, benefit me as an observer, but as a quirky individual, dressing up as a dinosaur and spending a night ravaging the town's candy supply will forever appeal more to my inner self — even if I choose to hide it socially.
This Halloween I’ll try to grow up in terms of the way I celebrate. My main goal is to conquer Statesville Prison, one of Illinois’s top haunted houses. If you hear anything about an Evanston family getting worried and calling the authorities when a young adult came to their doorstep dressed as a pimp and asking for candy, you can safely know that I failed.