Iron Man is the decided favorite this year. I watch as several kids of every age, shape and color wander by in brightly colored yellow and red pads, complete with metallic coating. Cars meander along the streets following groups of kids with their mothers. Of course, instead of being creepy stalkers, the various mini-vans and SUVs house nervous fathers, keeping a watchful eye on their respective mates and broodlings.
My neighbor hails me in a dark and grovelly voice that could only belong to a good ol’ Carolina boy who smokes too much. As if in response to this thought, he lights one up. It makes a sharp pin-prick of orange in the crisp October night. His wife mistakenly thinks that he is talking to her.
“Nothing, hon. Was just talking to the neighbor,” his rich baritone rolls across the yard, easily distinguishable from the laughs of children pervading the night.
His wife (or possibly teenage daughter, it’s hard to tell) is completely decked out as a witch. Pointed hat, cobwebs, green paint, the whole 9 yards. She is perched beside an 8 foot tall ghost/skeleton, which twinkles with tiny LED lights. They definitely went all out this year, putting the other houses that “decorated” to shame. Various boney objects dot their yard, orange, white and black lights are strung across the porch, and one of the family members is jumping out at older Trick ‘r’ Treaters. I feel like I should give each small child that crosses their yard a round of applause. They EARNED that candy.
The first kids had come up and rang our doorbell a few minutes beforehand. Having never actively participated in Halloween before, let alone the annual ritual of Trick or Treating, I jumped at the chance to play a part. Remembering that I still had a Guy Fawkes mask in my van, I fished it out, secured it to my head and had plopped down on the white plastic chair already on the porch. Here I sit, holding a wicker basket full of chocolate, still as a post.
Another group of kids, chaperoned by several mothers who look more like shepherds than parents, are herded towards me.
“Is it real?” The question seems to echo through the group, the moms just as curious as the little children. I let them creep closer, still unsure if the masked man holding the candy is friend or foe. Suddenly I realize the irony of the situation: Halloween, the one day a year where parents ENCOURAGE their progeny to accept candy from strangers.
They are only about two yards away from where I sit now, and I decide the children have proven themselves brave enough. I whip off my mask, revealing that I am nothing more than a bespectacled nerd in a Hollister hoodie. The kids laugh at their own fear, internally berating themselves for being so frightened of something so harmless. Their pace quickens and they eagerly snatch candy from the basket in my hands. The mothers encourage courtesy:
“Say thank you!” Some of the youngsters oblige. Others look at me, take the candy without breaking eye contact and then retreat. All make it away safely with at least one chocolate bar.
My fingers are getting numb; the last reminder of Hurricane Sandy. It’s unseasonably chilly for October in the OBX, thanks to the storm that thought it could. The cold front will probably linger until the truly cold weather comes in late November. Winter comes early this year.
Under my mask, which is once again secured to my head, my face is nice and warm. Condensation is collecting on the bottom most part by my chin, dripping onto my neck when the mask is covering my face, and trickling into my eye occasionally when I prop the mask up on my head. My glasses have started to fog up as well.
I experiment with different ways of breathing to cut down the condensation. There are slits for my eyes, nose and mouth, but breathing normally immediately fogs up my glasses and wets my chin. In through mouth, out through nose? This seems to work better, obviously the nose holes allow for most exhaled air than the mouth hole does. In addition to clearing up the condensation, it adds a raspy, somewhat mechanical sound to my breathing... almost like I am some animatronic creation powered by steam which is only meant to LOOK like it’s real.
Another child approaches, a girl, alone save for her mother. They’ve just come from the house next door that could pass for a John Carpenter movie set.
“Are you scared?” the mom queries. The little girl, possibly 5, at most 6, emphatically shakes her head. I grin despite myself. Brave girl. I pull away the mask, revealing my pale cheeks, black rims and smile. She returns the expression and holds out her bag, walking forward, her arms completely parallel to each other and to the ground. She looks like one of those old time zombies... only much more gleeful and innocent.
Putting a small handful of candy in her bag, her mother thanks me.
“Have a nice evening!” I wish her the same, and they begin to make their way back to the street, lit by various colors of halogen bulbs and parents’ flashlights.
“Happy Halloween!” she calls back once more. The little girl waves as she makes her way to the next house. Just a guy in a suit. A nice man who smiled and gave me candy.
The grin stays on my face long after the two are out of sight. It may just be one night, but it’s worth it. The cold fingers, the neighbors with their redneck truck and elaborate decorations, the half empty basket of chocolate. I can forget about the election, the lies, the muckraking, the slander. I can forget about the storm, the lives lost, the damage done, the empty harbors.
For one night I can interact with my neighbors in a way I never would. For one night I can bring joy and a few scares to little children. For one night I can watch as parents laugh, hold their offspring, and help them overcome their fears. For one night the doom and gloom passes away in the crackling autumn air.
For one night I can forget. And for one night... that’s enough.
