HALLOWEEN

I was a kid in the dull gray postwar mill town of New Bedford, Massachusetts, best known for whaling, Moby Dick, and Portuguese people. I always wanted it to mean more than that, and long after we moved away, some assholes raped Jody Foster on a pool table in a bar, so there you go, my home town pride gone to hell.

Around our house were plenty of empty lots to play in, a Rexall a few blocks away, and Buttonwood Park, where you could find horse chestnuts on the ground in the fall. There was even a smelly zoo with two ancient elephants and a sorry looking buffalo. I pitied those poor animals in captivity, it was the first time I realized I had more than a normal connection with animals.

Halloween was a fun holiday because we’d get to go out trick or treating, knock on neighbor’s doors, and get treats, which usually amounted to unexciting apples or candy.

Close by lived an elderly couple: Philly and Mary Kane, and their wonderful Irish Setter Gordon, who seemed to spend his entire life snoring on a rag rug. It was a chilly Halloween under a full moon, which dad told me was unsafe for children to be out in. My brother and I were out begging along with the rest of the neighborhood urchins, but our treats as usual, amounted to nothing. We decided to try the Kanes’ house. We timidly walked up the front steps to the door with a lace curtain covered window. Mary invited us in to their cozy living room where Gordon lay warming himself on his usual rug by the fireplace. The room smelled of old things but somehow felt good.

Mary asked us if we liked hot chocolate, which we only had on very special occasions. Without waiting for an answer, she went into the kitchen and brought back two small mugs of the richest chocolate I never knew existed, covered with tiny marshmallows. There was a plate heaped with generous squares of fragrant gingerbread, all spicy and flavorful. This was before cake mixes. I remember it was the first time she ever spoke to either of us like we were adults, asking how we liked school, who our friends were, conversation that relaxed me and drew me out of my shyness. I don’t remember how long we were there, probably not long at all, but this afternoon, as I was thinking of Halloween, that cold New England evening came back to me. I know the Kane’s and Gordon must be long gone by now, but I send them my warmest thoughts of gratitude.

J Michael told me his Halloween plan was to dress as a scarecrow, lie on the lawn in front of his house, and wait for the local brats to show up. Then he would stand up and frighten the crap out of them. I laughed my ass off just visualizing it. He loves kids, so how he does it will be memorable. He asked me what my plans are, and I imagined I’d crash a party knowing my friends are lovers of parties especially Halloween. But then again I was going to be at the island to close up the house, and I’d probably end up skipping the bar and opt for a quiet night of TV and a walk on the beach with Blondie.

One Halloween I had to work at the restaurant, but my boyfriend who is as gorgeous as a woman as he is with a man, went and got all dolled up. When he showed up in FULL drag, I literally freaked. The MAN I loved was now a WOMAN. The transformation was so good, it was too much for me.

Now I want to tell you about my own special spiritual experience, of course at the island. Saturday night I napped, awoke, switched off the TV; they were showing The Omen for the thirty-ninth time. I got up, woke a very sleepy LULU, grabbed a wig--an ugly fright thing someone left at the house years ago, and hiked off to the only place open: the Island Club Bar. It was 1 a.m., the last night of the season and the official celebration of Halloween on the Island. I wasn't going to miss it.

Now, this is special; even though my home is on the water, it’s still surrounded by woods, very dark on a moonless night, especially in late season when the houses are all empty, dark, with no landmark lights anywhere. As we walked toward town, the trees opened up to expose the previously invisible sky, and what all was pitch dark, burst into view. Brilliant stars against a black velvet sky, sparkling clear, unreal. It was also freezing.

You may know I have poor vision. That's an understatement; I'm Mister McGoo. I can't recognize people I know on the street at night, but this night, the stars, so very clear, both my eyes seemed to be working perfectly, damaged retina, notwithstanding.

It all led to this: I had an imaginary conversation with God, I recalled the 23rd psalm, and I knew then that the path, while dark at times would get better, as it had just done, and so would I. I felt really good then, confident.

The bar had been busy, now emptying out but the dance floor was still filled with guys in drag, sweating out the very loud music, their make-up starting to run, dresses and wigs askew. Drag gets tired looking when you are dancing in it, so I felt really comfortable in just the wig. I left the flamboyant dress at home, preferring my checkered red flannel shirt, jeans, and clunker Timberland boots. Lulu showed discomfort with the noise, and I knew it was too loud for her ears, so we split and headed back towards the house.

On the walk, I kept stopping, looking UP at that sky - that unreal, clear sky, Orion was there, and bright Pleades, even one stray meteor, and then, on the eastern sky, creeping over the top of a tree, the slender crescent of the moon appeared. You know, when most people see a shooting star, they make a wish, - I don’t. I say, "Thanks for the ones which have been granted". I think that's where the conversation started.

We continued heading home, stopped, turned round to the south towards the beach, and stared: I had to see this from the beach! "Let's go, Lulu" and in seconds we were there, awestruck, me, anyway, maybe her too, who knows?

This night I also sensed from beloved old Nihiz, my first dog (yes, she speaks to me) that LULU would soon be able to communicate with me - nothing as yet, except to feed her or scratch her, but real communication means I have to learn how to LISTEN as well. It was a learning moment, that.

The view at the beach was perfect! I knew it would be. I said aloud to no one in particular, but I knew: "Thank you - you are beautiful"

My mind spoke back to me in that soft voice I knew well:
"YOU are beautiful, Mike.” (Me, standing there on a beach in the middle of the night in a stupid fright-wig!) I began to feel ridiculous speaking to GOD looking like that. I replied that it was HE who loved me and made me able to SEE the beauty HE created - and I wondered if HE, like me, enjoyed it when HIS better works were admired. I felt a spiritual closeness and companionship right then, and can't describe it. I wasn't alone. No matter where I was. No matter what I looked like.

I didn't feel the cold right then, but as beautiful as it was, you don't stand out there all night in late October. So it was head home to a warm fire, and then bed. I prepared some sticky-buns earlier, and put them in the fridge to rise overnight, Rob and Thurber were expected to enjoy them with morning coffee.