Halloween

We hated Halloween. The yellow of the walls in my room made it feel like it was always sunny, but every October Michelle and I sat longingly at my window, wishing we could be part of the neighborhood for at least this one day. Like bank robbers plotting their next hit, we would plan all the details of how we could pull it off. The kids outside in costume gave us a million ideas for characters; it looked like they used pillowcases instead of plastic, grocery bags to haul all the loot. This year Halloween was ours.

Maybe we should wear a stocking over our faces; if the neighbors recognize us we’ll get busted for sure. I could see my parents sitting with the sketch artist right now: “She’s 4’10” and plump...” my mother would grab the pencil if she could draw at all. This crime was severe—a felony I think, with consequences I couldn’t imagine.

The year of our great transgression, Halloween fell on a Saturday. In our family, Saturday was the day rest; no driving, no electricity and most important, a relaxing afternoon full of naps, snacks and low key activity. After temple we had a big lunch, and as my father filled his plate with seconds of everything, I knew the warden would sleep well that afternoon.

The kids on our block could have chosen to dress like us for their costume; we didn’t realize we were already dressed unusually.  As we changed our clothes and got out the previously prepared bag of mom’s makeup, our naiveté shined.  My stomach was in knots as we snuck out the back door with our pillowcases in hand.  The free candy from the goyim excited us as much as cash excites a scandalous criminal.

Sculptures of witches and ghosts decorated the middle class homes of Plainview that afternoon, reminding us at each house that this holiday celebrated ideas we knew nothing about. With each step, our illicit activity increased. Ringing doorbells was a crime as we didn’t use electricity on Shabbos.  I wondered if the candy was kosher, and how God would sentence us for this illegal act. The expressions on the faces of the neighbors confused me; how did they know we were breaking the law? Didn’t we look like the kids that went to public school and got to fill their pillowcases every year?

No one told us that trick or treating happens in the evening. We didn’t even realize that we were the only kids dressed and celebrating at 2 PM this Halloween.  We got to the house with the Great Dane at the end of the block, the one with the crazy old man that no one ever sees and trepidation had me frozen. I could hear footsteps behind me but was too scared to look back. “Ailene and Michelle, WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Busted.

In one sense, this crime came with a life sentence. The judge in this case was bigger than our parents, according to them. Learning about guilt, we suffered the consequences and relived them at the end of each October. As I sat in my yellow jail cell, I felt regret and repentant.  I communicated with the judge in my thoughts, begging for forgiveness and questioning why I was chosen to not receive the gifts of this holiday. Was I being punished for some other illegal act, committed before I was even born?