Alyssa:
For someone who doesn’t even like candy, it’s a bit strange that I’ve always liked Halloween. Yes, I just said I don’t like candy. Yes, that extends to chocolate. Yes, I am a human being and not a cyborg.
Every year of my life, whether it was my choice or not, I’ve dressed up for Halloween. When I was young, my mom went with a princess motif, and trust me, she got very inventive with the princess costumes. I went as Snow White and a Japanese princess with an original kimono. If you have seen my skin tone, you can imagine how hard that would be to pull off.
Call me a sucker, but as I’ve gotten older, Halloween has always been there to evolve with me to the next stage of my life.
When I was younger, there was just something magical about running around with masks. And no matter what, by Halloween, Cleveland always had that crisp fall smell. Even though I do remember one year it snowed.
When I got older and decidedly more emo (yes, I was. No, we won’t talk about my poor life choices), Halloween was my favorite holiday. It gave me a legitimate reason to listen to “Nightmare Before Christmas.” I am totally judging you hardcore, people who listen to “Nightmare Before Christmas” year round. Let it go. “Hocus Pocus” is way better.
Whether I am dressed as Death from Neil Gaiman’s “The Sandman,” Four from “Doctor Who” or keeping it low key because it’s my roomie’s birthday, Halloween still incites that giddy childish feeling that speaks to all of us.
Leah:
When I was in first grade I wanted to be a Beanie Baby for Halloween.
I wanted to be the Dalmatian, and for the first time, my mom labored lovingly over the costume: white sweatpants and sweatshirt with black felt spots, a headband with felt dog ears and a large cardboard Beanie Baby tag that was safety-pinned to the side of my sweatshirt.
And on Halloween night, everyone thought I was a cow.
Despite being my birthday, Halloween’s always been uncomfortable for me, probably because I’ve been socially awkward since birth. Demanding candy from strangers doesn’t feel right.
It was just never a holiday that my family got excited about. My costumes usually consisted of things lying around the house. In fifth grade I used my soccer uniform to be — surprise — a soccer player. Another year I used the white dress I’d worn at my uncle’s wedding to be a bride.
To this day the only decoration adorning our house Halloween night is an underwhelming but well-loved mechanical ghost named Strobie that vibrates and “woooo”s unconvincingly when triggered by a loud noise like clapping or a door slamming.
By high school, I was over Halloween. I gladly passed out candy to children and grudgingly handed over Kit Kats and Snickers bars to kids my age, wearing an old witch’s hat.
Nowadays, costume parties don’t interest me. I’m not the Scrooge of Halloween, but I’m no Bob Cratchit, either. If you’ll pardon the terrible pun, I’m happy to watch the spirit of the holiday live in others … except those high schoolers trick-or-treating with pillowcases.
