Costumes, Candy, and Creativity

There was nothing better than Halloween for Jory.  It combined two of his favorite activities:  being creative and eating candy.  Dressing up and trick-or-treating were a must from before he could walk through his entire adulthood. 

Halloween started early at our house.  I collected the clay pumpkins, cloth ghosts, and Halloween crafts that the boys made each year in school to decorate the house.  The wooden holiday wall-hanging in the family room was switched to a witch on her broomstick.  With the aroma of pumpkin bread, pies, and cookies wafting from the kitchen, the house smelled like Fall.  The boys teeter tottered over which costume they wanted, and I began to sew and gather everything needed to make each boy’s fantasy become their Halloween reality.

With older brother Darren as his guide, Jory began as a toddler tagging along at Laguna Road Elementary School in all the Halloween festivities.  Everyone, including teachers, principal, students and siblings arrived in costume, eager to see if they could recognize each other in masks, face paint, and disguises.  Jory was never the shy, fearful child, but rather the enthusiastic, jump-right-in kind of kid that marched right along in the costume parades.  He wanted to experience it all.

Halloween morning was always crazy.  Jory was up before dawn and dressed in his costume before anyone else in the family woke up.  He had already downed a bowl or two of Fruit Loops and a glass of orange juice.  

“I'm ready.  Can we paint my face now?”  implored Jory.  

I hadn't even had my coffee yet, but grabbed the face paint and makeup as we headed toward the bathroom.  I didn't allow masks, so faces were painted and costumes were buttoned, pinned, and sometimes taped on.  Then, grabbing lunches, we all piled into the car, barely making it to school before the morning bell rang.

School convened as usual and Jory skipped into his classroom just before attendance was taken.  He and his classmates were excited, silly, and fidgety.  The noise level of giggles, Wow!s, and Aarg!s were high in every classroom making instruction impossible, so classes were led to the playground for a school wide assembly.  Children, teachers, administrators, office staff, janitors, parents, grandparents, and younger siblings in costumes, stood anxiously around the perimeter of the blacktop.  Starting with kindergarten, classes marched around the basketball courts in full regalia.  Jory’s class joined the parade and he strutted along with a bit of added syncopation.

The parade continued until the last sixth grade class had its turn on the runway.  Then, the children returned to their classrooms, where school parties filled them with cupcakes, popcorn balls, candy corn, and apple juice.  For Jory, all those sweets were welcome triggers for hyperactivity and nonstop movement.  (Once I suggested that he choose a straight jacket for his costume as a service to his teachers, but he declined.).  Trying to refocus on academics, teachers required that costumes be put away, but the children still couldn't settle down.  Finally came recess, giving all the kids an opportunity to run around and dissipate their sugar highs.  Jory always hoped to be the first one out the door and he never stopped moving until it was time to come in.

After school, activities at home were focused on carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns.  Each kid drew a paper sketch of what he wanted on his pumpkin and waited anxiously for Daddy Sam to come home early from work.  Jory’s sketch was hastily scribbled on paper, as he was never proficient at holding a crayon.  He was also easily frustrated when tasks took too long.  

“I'm done.  When is Daddy coming home?” announced Jory.  Then he morphed into a tornado that sang and danced around the kitchen, alternately checking the refrigerator for snacks and the driveway for Daddy’s car.  

Darren, Shan, & Jory Carving Pumpkins

Newspapers were spread over the cement patio and a large bowl anchored them down, along with a sharp carving knife, three large scooping spoons, and a Sharpie.  The boys’ sketches were drawn on the pumpkins, Sam cut out the tops, and each boy commenced to dig into the soft space of his pumpkin, scooping out the seeds and delivering them into the bowl.  Slowly, but methodically, eyes, noses, and mouths were carved out making sure that there was enough space so that candlelight could illuminate the funny, scary, or traditional faces.  Finally, a candle was melted onto a tin can lid and carefully placed in the hollow of the pumpkin.  The bowl of pumpkin seeds was whisked off to the kitchen for roasting and future snacks for everyone except Jory, as he couldn't eat pumpkin seeds with his braces.  The pumpkin top was replaced a little off center so that it wouldn't shrink and fall inside.  Then, at last, the candle was lit and the jack-o-lanterns were proudly placed at our front door to welcome trick-or-treaters.  Sam rigged up speakers that broadcast eerie organ music blasting out of the darkened front bedroom windows to complete our efforts at Halloween ambiance.

Our neighborhood was mostly older folks with a sprinkling of families with young children.  But we were also a neighborhood where trick-or-treaters were imported, so every household was well armed with candy.  Before we unleashed our kids on the neighbors, we younger parents attempted to fill their bellies with hot dogs at a multi-family Halloween barbecue .  It was an attempt to outsmart the kids in an effort to decrease the amount of sugar consumed that day and night.  It worked for most of the kids, but not for Jory, who figured out the ruse.

“Don't eat too much,” he warned the other kids.  “Remember the candy we're going to get.”

As soon as it got dark, the dads chaperoned the kids at trick-or-treating while the moms handed out candy at homes.  When he was little, Jory carried a plastic pumpkin to hold his bounty; the pumpkin got larger as he grew taller.  As a teenager, the pumpkins just couldn't hold enough candy, so he and his buddies switched to pillowcases and trick-or-treated more extensively and without Dad.

Chili in her bride costume 

At our house, Grandma Edna and Grandpa Morris always joined us.  They usually helped by handing out the candy.  Actually, we all answered the door, including the dog in costume, because the fun was in seeing all the kids in their various disguises.  We bought bags and bags of candy, as there were lots and lots of kids coming door to door.  In fact, Grandpa Morris would say, “Just buy the good stuff, so we can eat the leftovers and have what we like.”  I always bought the good stuff.  

The Good Stuff

Trick-or-treat curfew was 9:00 PM, even for teenagers.  Front porch lights were turned off and children were expected to be at home inspecting their candy.  Excitement, exhaustion, and anticipation resonated throughout the family room.  The night’s haul was dumped out and sorted.  First, anything not commercially wrapped was discarded; next chocolate bars, hard candies, lollipops, coins, and miscellaneous treats like stickers or the annual toothbrush distributed by a neighborly dentist, were arranged in piles.  Jory immediately threw his toothbrush into the discard pile, but I rapidly tossed it back into his assortment.  He kept the stickers because they had bartering potential with little brother Shanon.  Then came the tax collectors.  Grandpa Morris and Daddy Sam stood tall over each boy’s stash, selecting their cut.  That was followed by offerings to Grandma Edna and Mommy. 

“That was good, now let's go on,” Jory would remark with relief.  Finally, serious bargaining and trading began between the brothers.  

The Night's Haul

“I'll trade you my big Hershey Bar for all of your mini Hershey Special Dark Chocolates,” offered Jory to Darren and Shanon.  Jory was allergic to milk, so milk chocolate bars were forbidden and dark chocolate was milk free.  As a kid, he focused upon candy quantity, not quality.  He traded Milky Ways for Smarties and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for Nerds.  No one wanted black licorice, so that went immediately to Grandpa Morris.  What was important to Jory was that his stash be large enough to last until next Halloween.  At last, candy was returned to plastic pumpkins and hauled away to bedrooms.  Of course, Jory's candy never lasted even the three weeks until Thanksgiving.  

We were aware that Jory ate as much milk chocolate as possible while trick-or-treating, and before having to face the rules of the house.  How did we know?  He was bouncing off the walls and his pumpkin was full of empty wrappers.  Jory’s mode of operation was always to flash his great smile and ask for forgiveness, never for permission.  November 1st was a regular day at school, except that Jory tucked candy into his backpack.  His poor teacher was the unintended victim.

Dressing up and trick-or-treating continued into high school and adulthood.  He attended Troy High School classes in fatigues and full camouflage face paint, which he learned to do by himself.  When the high school band performed at the football game on Halloween night, Jory played his trombone as a uniformed Air Force Academy cadet.  At CalArts, he was right at home because creative art students tended to dress up in elaborate costumes.  Lucas Arts was the same.  For the company Halloween party, he built a Jory sized popcorn box, which he filled with himself and bags of popcorn that he handed out as treats.  One Halloween in Fairfax, he dressed up as a Biblical figure and trick-or-treated throughout the neighborhoods.  Another year he trick-or-treated as a Viking.

“Jory,” I asked, “aren’t you a little too old for that?”

“Nope!” he responded.  “I’ll never be too old for Halloween.”

“Did people give you candy?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yep!  They just laughed and dumped a handful in my pillowcase.”

“I bet it was the first time they had a trick-or-treater with a beard.” I remarked.

We would never have guessed that Halloween initiated survival and business skills that Jory honed to perfection and skillfully applied during his lifetime.  He learned to be creative and barter or trade commodities for what he wanted or needed:  he built his recording studio by offering the townsfolk of Fairfax an hour of studio time for every hour of volunteer construction labor; during the economic business slump, he offered to record performances at local music venues in exchange for meals; and before his work permit was approved in Norway, he procured studio space by volunteering his sound expertise for the production of video games.   

Candy eating skills were never compromised, but rather enhanced when he discovered European dark chocolates and Lakka (Cloudberry Liqueur) filled chocolates.  Jory's adult pockets almost always had a couple of root beer barrel hard candies hidden for emergencies.  Always generous, he would gladly offer to share.  Candy was so important to Jory that he named his last business venture Lollipop Audio, with a nod to two of his favorites:  See’s lollipops and Tootsie Roll Pops.  

We learned that parents can unknowingly provide silly little opportunities for their children that can result in surprisingly useful skills that last throughout their child’s lifetime.

COMMENTS:  

Please send comments via email to Jorysmother@gmail.com

Elaine

Well I guess my children were terribly deprived since Halloween was the absolute worst American holiday for me. I was so impressed how you were able to take the holiday of Halloween and turn it into something very special for your boys. You are so creative and you turned the holiday into an opportunity for discovering the boys artistic and drama potentials. Yes, my children went trick or treating but I never was able to use the holiday as a learning and creative experience for them.  I always viewed the holiday as a pagan one and never saw the potential that you were able to see in it. 

Happy Grandma
Love reading the stories!! And Jory was right, one is never too old for halloween/trick or treating ♡ 

Anne

Your story was so typically Jory!  I loved it!

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