Behind the 'Trick or Treating Scenes! Post # 25

Best silhouette ever!  Sally Irvine 

            Last year (2009), during the Halloween season, I wanted to write about what really goes on behind the scenes in the historical districts on Halloween night.  The reason for the year delay is that in Mobile, a place where one celebration runs into the next, by the time I could have followed up on my Witches of South Georgia post, it would have been outdated. 

            My first Halloween season in the south rolled in with a sense of dread.  I had always hated it up north because the tacky decorations were the prelude to the color being drained out of the landscape and the stark, long, cold, silent, winters.     Nothing was pretty about this season and I was not looking forward to having my beautiful, southern, Magnolia and Live Oak tree-draped, historical life littered with a bunch of ugly Halloween decorations.  Furthermore, Mom was dying and it was likely that the culmination of the season would coincide with her passing.

            As mentioned in last years post, I was pleasantly surprised that, in Mobile, the décor of Halloween fits quite nicely with the landscape; the elegance, and the historical nature of the town.   I've seen formal china table settings donned with fresh fall flowers, sparkly pumpkins and ghosts, with black and gold wine bottles to maintain the elegance while celebrating the season of the dead. The 'spooky' takes on less of a ghoulish theme (not as many body parts, blood, and gore) and brings out more of the historical, ghostly ambiance that exists here at all times of the year.

My friend, Laura Williams 

            I was amazed at the involvement of the community on Halloween night; neighborhoods filled with trick-or-treaters, porches filled with adults sipping wine and handing out candy.  I noticed the gorgeous witch’s hats and costumes on people who  happily handed out candy and the beautiful southern men leaning on the columns of their porches, watching and sipping wine - some still in their suits from work.  People chatted back and forth from porch to porch until they ran out of candy and the trick or treating ended at around 8 pm.  Not being fully integrated in the community at that point, when things slowed down, Shanon and I went home.

           

Food arriving at House 1

 It wasn’t until the next year that I fully understood the secret of what happens afterward.  We were invited to hang out on the porch of some friends and hand out candy. The host was making a chicken chili so I offered to bring homemade seafood chowder, red wine, and candy to add to the pot.   Others arrived as we did, also bringing food.   Throughout the evening, we sipped wine and munched on cheese and crackers, hummus, hot artichoke dip, and other homemade snacks, all the while rotating shifts for handing out candy. 

         

   We socialized, just as I had observed last year, with neighbors from nearby porches and it was pre-set that our host’s house and the houses on each side would be having our ‘after trick-or-treat party’ together.  Some people were still dressed in their business attire, some wore witch or warlock hats, or jeans, or costumes.   The point is, it didn't matter.

            When the streets quieted down, the porches and homes liven up as houses group together – usually in threes, to share food and drinks.  Each house had different main dishes, various desserts, drinks, and other snacks.  Our house had the Chicken Chili and my Seafood chowder, along with sausage rolls, hot dips, and lots of other healthy and unhealthy foods and desserts.  The third house hosted the red beans and rice – a staple food in the Deep South that no party is complete without..

             We started at the first house to graze, doing our best to save room for the next two houses.  People from other neighborhoods and our church moseyed in and, once again, we found ourselves meeting a ton of new folks, eating a ton of good food, and having a ton of fun.  I thought back to the Halloweens of my northern past; the starkness of the bright, gory decorations with a near colorless background, the two to three hours of fun watching the happy children that ended abruptly as each house ran out of candy.  Doors would slam shut, lights would go off and, house by house, the party would be over.   They had done their job and the doors would close for another year.  It was often about the only time neighbors saw each other and I was sad upon realizing what my kids and I had missed over the years, but certainly glad to now be a part.

            By the time we got to our last house, it was near 10:00 p.m. and even in that late hour, we enjoyed the delicious Red Beans and Rice.  We stayed till nearly 11:30 and the house was still full when we left, with ages ranging older children to people as old as 90 years old.  Yet, the owners of all three homes were still happy, the guests were happy, and nobody was falling over drunk.  They were just doing what southerners – particularly Mobile – always do: celebrating one more time.

            I thought of the years I had dreamed of this place - though had no idea it really existed.  Perhaps I longed for a world that was more kind, gentle, colorful, and warm, and where time is slowed down enough to fully enjoy the beautiful backdrop of natural beauty, both in town and in the neighboring country areas.    In one year in Mobile, I had been to more parties and events than in the previous 25 years combined, yet I am less harried, more relaxed, and life moves much slower.  A lot happens between 5:30 and 7:30 pm.

I thought of the hard times of the previous few years; a divorce, financial stress, the death of my step-mom, and Mom’s brain injury all in one year – 2004, which I affectionately don “The year from hell!”.  I compare it with the culture of Mobile where people find a reason to celebrate regardless of what life throws your way. And as I look back over my life, I see how the culture and environment up north made good days average and bad days hell.  My biggest regret is not knowing that geographical location makes such a huge difference in ones overall outlook or how we experience life in general.  I had bought into the lie that there is no such thing as a geographical cure.  It seemed that from 2004 on, my NY life was kicking me out the door - where all the reasons to stay just disintegrated before my eyes - and the risk of leaving, when I weighed it with that of staying, showed that I had absolutely nothing to lose.  

What I didn't realize is what I would gain by taking that leap;  seeing and experiencing life from a whole different vantage point.  Financially, and during the last few months of Mom's life (after moving here), it wasn't easy.  But how I felt and was able to experience those bad times made all the difference in the world.  Though many in the north thrive on the cold and colorless seasons - and maybe even the overall aggressiveness of the people - I am sad for those sweet spirited people who are stunted or dying there and who may never know a life more suitable to them, regardless of where that place may be.  It makes me wonder about other places and sometimes I dream of traveling to experience more cultures nationally or abroad because I have learned that we don't truly know who we are until we experience ourselves and our outlook on life in different contexts. I'm sad for people anywhere who are unhappy but accept a  life that was fed to them simply because it is familiar or easier to stay than to venture out.  The past two years has been a time of rest, healing, and celebrating.  I don't know what the future holds but I am thankful to know what it's like to live in a place where both good and bad times are viewed as an opportunity to celebrate just one more occasion, just one more day.