Let’s travel back to 1975, when the world was less complicated and Halloween was a day-long sugar orgy. It was a simple holiday; I knock on your door–you give me candy.
Since then, Halloween has become a multi-million dollar business. Leave it to Americans to prostitute fear. And candy.
1975: I’d open my costume box which consisted of a plastic mask with death-hole eye sockets and a plastic-tarp of a costume. Or I’d get a homemade princess costume. (And BTW, being a graceful princess is difficult when you have five layers of sweaters under your ball gown, making it look like you just ate a princess.)
(My Wonder Woman death mask.)
Now: You can purchase elaborate costumes all year long. They’re expensive, gory and (for females) crossing the border into Slutville. You can’t just be a princess. You have to be a branded princess–with a history and a back story, and a bustier.
1975: Before the cool carving kits, all we had was a paring knife and our imaginations. You could carve triangles, squares or circles. That was it. Most pumpkins looked either a) scary, b) startled, or c) mutilated. Someone was always accidentally stabbed.
Now: Pumpkin carving is an Olympic sport. Displays of sculpted pumpkins adorn porch stoops. Intricately designed pumpkins mock my basic smiley-faced squash.
1975: My mother taped Halloween pictures in the front window, and if she was going all out, she’d twist black and orange crepe paper across the window. We were a simple people in the ’70s.
Now: People invest big bucks in Halloween decorations. Front lawns display graveyards, witch covens, torture chambers and colossal spider webs. People spend more on Halloween décor than I spend for Christmas shopping.
1975: Classroom parties consisted of four things. First, the Halloween parade where we’d dash through classrooms for fellow students and parents. Second, we’d play Halloween Bingo vying for a black and orange pencil. Third, we would decorate ONE pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie. (My cookie had more frosting and sprinkles than Ke$ha’s underwear drawer.)
Fourth, we would sit in a circle and sing Halloween songs. “Halloween Cat/ Halloween Cat/ Why do you mew and mew like that?/Neither I nor the moon/Like your tune/So SCAT! Halloween Cat” (I know. Pure poetry.)
Now: Schools are doing away with Halloween parties, parades, songs, and fun. What’s the point of going to school if you can’t dress up on Halloween? I’m predicting a rise in drop-out rates.
1975: Some kids used cute pumpkin buckets to beg for candy, but I had no qualms about looking like a greedy bastard when it came to getting my share of the Halloween booty. I grabbed a king-size pillowcase to gather my candy, never worrying I looked like a homeless Wonder Woman. Plus, the holiday was a night-long event where we’d travel the county looking for homes giving out whole candy bars.
Now: Sanitized versions of trick-or-treating have popped up all over the country. New rules consist of, “Only visit the neighbors we know,” “Stay off the freeway,” “Get home before 7 p.m.” and “Let’s all go as a family!” Babies.
And don’t get me started on Trunk-or-Treating.