Georgia Beers | Witches and Pumpkins and Ghosts, Oh My!

Witches and Pumpkins and Ghosts, Oh My!

Written by Georgia Friday, 30 October 2009 19:00

If there’s anything that solidifies my happiness to be home in Upstate New York, it’s fall. I know, I know. How can I possibly love fall when it only signifies the onset of winter and I don’t particularly care for winter? I don’t have a logical answer for that; I just know I love fall. I love unpacking my sweaters and slipping into my favorite cozy clothes after work. The crisp chill in the morning air, the unparalleled scent of crushed leaves, the colors. It’s all so beautiful and having been away for two years, I think I’m enjoying it even more. I’ve found myself looking—really looking—at the splashes of red/orange/bright yellow that decorate the rolling hillsides as I drive. I have a whole new appreciation for the season and for my home state. I know I’ve said I’m a northeastern girl at heart, but now I know it’s true. I heart NY.

Nothing says fall for me quite like Halloween. Or as I like to call it, Halloweenie. I love a good scary movie (please note that I said scary, not gory…I like to jump in my seat because I didn’t see it coming, not puke in the seat next to me because I’m nauseous over the dismembered bodies) or a good ghost story. Haunted houses freak me out, but haunted hayrides are a bit more bearable. My dad helps run a really big one in his town. I’m not a big dresser-upper for Halloweenie, but I love other people’s costumes. When I was a kid, my mom made me a kickass costume: I was half-male, half-female (kind of interesting in retrospect…). I still can’t believe I didn’t win that costume contest. Bonnie doesn’t like to dress up AT ALL, but there was that one time we went to a costume party dressed as Snow White and Sleepy. Hee. We were pretty cute.

My favorite time of Halloweenie night is early, like 6:00, when the little, little kids come trick-or-treating. Seriously, is there anything cuter than the three-year-old princess standing at your door holding open her bag and trying to remember what she’s supposed to say? I swear to god, I’ve dumped handfuls of candy into kids’ bags just because I wanted to eat them up, they were so cute.

Best trick-or-treat story ever: I was at my mom’s a few years ago helping with the door. Her neighborhood is a mob scene and she gets upwards of 250 kids each year. So it was early and the cuties were out. I opened the door and this little boy—he couldn’t have been more than four—was standing there with his bag, and he was all decked out in red, blue and black. I called to my mother, “Hey, Mom. Come here and check out Spider-Man.” The little boy sort of squinched forward like he wanted to tell me a secret. He looked to his left, then to his right as if making sure nobody else could hear him. Then he said, in the most adorable little whisper, “I’m really Scott!” Oh, my god, I almost picked him up and hugged him. Needless to say, he left Mom’s house with about a pound of Snickers bars.

Happy Halloweenie, Gentle Readers! I hope you get lots of treats. Boo!