17.05.12

In Utah, during the 1970s, Halloween was the first time we went into the night on purpose. Dressed as little ghouls, goblins, ghosts and witches, we braved the dark in wild, shrieking packs, fearless behind our masks and make-up, secure that this night was ours. We belonged in the chilly fall air, the breeze creaking the skeletal trees, leaves crunching under foot. On this night, we were in league with the things that go bump in the night and the shadowy creatures lurking under our beds and in our closets. We junior demons could stride to our neighbors’ porches to demand candy with the threatening incantation: “Trick or Treat!”— which meant, “Give me some candy, Brother Jorgensen, or I will vandalize your home.”

But somewhere along the line, like so many rites of childhood that flirt innocently with danger, Halloween—this reckless, daring, exciting Halloween—was tamed. Maybe it was the mythical razor blades in the apples or the poison Pixy Stix that made the roaches of anxiety run in our mothers’ minds and led us to the era of the Trunk or Treat.

Source: Salt Lake Magazine (blog)