Walk About: Halloweeners

Although Halloween traditions have morphed with the passing of time and the melting pot of cultures, I learned that it started as a Celtic holiday. They believed that the season of life met the season of death this time of year. To survive the lurking spirits, they disguised themselves and lit fires. Some pope tried to distract from the spooky practices and bring focus toward his religion by making a day to honor saints, called “All Hallow’s Day” on November 1st. People of Europe continued their traditions on the day before, which would be called “All Hallow’s Eve.” An influential Celtic leader with a speech impediment helped bring about the name “Halloween.”

Okay, I just abused my blogging power by telling you a lie about the guy with a speech impediment. But the rest of it is true. I'm sure the word "Halloween" evolved just like "ain't"-- as a result of people speaking too quickly or drinking too much. Anyway, it’s amazing to think about the journey the holiday has taken to get to our present day, billion dollar market for fake blood, masks and plastic skeletons. Because it’s fun to say, I’m calling folks who’ve taken the holiday to another level Halloweeners.

Patrick and I were walking back from The Winey Bean after grabbing Sunday morning coffee (we also could have had wine, if we wanted) when we stumbled upon our first super Halloweener. There were shallow graves in his yard with clever names on the headstones like “Ima Deadguy” and feet bones sticking out of the dirt. Oversized tarantulas hung from the trees and a screaming banshee with a rotting fabric body swayed from a zip line above the lawn. Our gaze was invited toward the back by a jack-o-lantern bordered path, where we saw an ominous dinosaur head over the side door. The creepiest by far was a girl in the attic window, with gray skin, thin white hair and pupil-less eyes. Her aged nightgown draped over her bony, outstretched arms, in a pose that screamed “leave this house!” and “come inside!” simultaneously. As I listened to the girl in the highest window, the owner walked out to the sidewalk where we stood, peering. After shaking my initial impression that he was a spirit guarding the home, I discovered he was just a friendly guy, named Gary, with a lot of pride in his Halloween presentation. He and his son had done it together, he explained, as he pointed out horrors on his property we may never have noticed and included a story for each. The dinosaur was discarded from the local theater house. Candy seeking youth would have to come to the door before he triggered the roar. Although there didn’t seem to be an inch of lawn left, he planned to set up a coffin later that day. The neighbor had a stuffed zombie on his porch. Gary predicted a person would be wearing that zombie on Halloween, ready to jump out at unsuspecting kids who’ve seen the dummy on the porch for weeks. It was a stunt Gary had pulled last year. We got the history of his home (it was the first one on the block in 1904) and he invited us to come by on the 31^stto experience the magic first hand. We enthusiastically accepted and I decided I wanted to be Gary someday.

I’m not sure if the run-in with Gary heightened my awareness, or if I’m paying more attention to my surroundings because they’re novel and new, or if there is an outrageous number of people in Denver that really do it up for Halloween. But, during various outings close to home, I have spotted “that crazy Halloween house we have to trick-or-treat” more times than I can count. I've gotta believe the craft stores in town sell out of rubber bats, witch heads, and stretchy cotton spider webs. It must to take years to acquire all that spooky paraphernalia. Did we miraculously land in the Halloween hotbed of North America? Or does the creepy stuff made in China move like hotcakes everywhere? If so, I’ve been in a coffin for all the Halloweens I can remember! In any case, I’ve discovered high numbers of enthusiastic Denver Halloweener houses and documented them for you. Maybe you're a Halloweener too?