Halloween is always magical for the fourth Sanderson sister.
Note: Now that the Fuller Convalescent Home has officially closed, I'm thrilled to be back. Thanks to all for your love and support during Brian's surgeries and recovery.
When you were a kid, no matter the location, one thing was for certain. You got your cardio in on Halloween night. Your quest for candy surpassed aching feet and burning calf muscles. And when you think about it, I don't recall ever complaining or rescheduling based on cold or inclement weather. We powered through. We were tough. I might have opened a Pixie Stix mid-way through to provide me enough fuel to endure that death march. Looking back, giving kids tinted sugar might have been the worst marketing decision, ever.
One thing that struck me this week was the memory of those plastic face masks. Let's get real - they did not allow you to suck in enough oxygen for your Halloween CrossFit session. And I don't remember ever being able to see properly through them, either.
If you were truly unlucky, the elastic band holding that petroleum byproduct to your face would break, or come unfastened, and the whole ensemble was a complete loss. C'est la vie, little goblins.
I asked my mom to text me some childhood photos from my previous Halloweens this week and I was not disappointed. I laughed, cried, and cringed as I relived such wonderful memories.
I don't think I ever lost the spirit of Halloween, even into my adult years. My adorable husband was so extra the first year we bought our home. He put a handful of fun-sized candy bars into tiny ziplock bags and eagerly passed them out.
Oh, I wish he knew what he started. Kids remember which houses give out the good candy and which houses to avoid. From those humble beginnings, The Fuller Boo Bags morphed into a cult following in our neighborhood and we were inundated with tiny monsters. Year after year, countless kids would squeal, "Cool, treat bags again!" as they generously thanked us before heading up the street, where I'm sure they were marginally disappointed. Our last Halloween there, we blew through 150 Boo Bags and two large bags of candy within 40 minutes. That's the blessing of being the first house of the neighborhood.
I felt a great deal of remorse when we sold our house in 2017. I told our buyer, "I sincerely apologize for the Halloween reputation you are inheriting." I'm not sure she shared my zeal for All Hallow's Eve since then, but I'm glad we've continued our tradition in our new house. This year's Fuller Boo Bags are a little lighter on the trinkets, and a bit heavier on the chocolate. When I realized my neighbors Lori and Jim handed out full-sized candy bars last year, well, let's just say I brought my A-game this Halloween!
Last year, I loved meeting some of our new neighbors, because, at the end of the day, it's about fostering positive relationships with parents and their precious kiddos. Neighborhoods are tiny communities, and you should do your best to be welcoming and loving to those around you. At least that's how I view Halloween. It's not about worshiping Satan or summoning the dark forces, it's about having a little spirited fun and reinforcing the idea that your front door is always open to friends. I affectionately refer to our Fuller Boo Bags as "fire insurance." If my house is on fire, I can guarantee at least 20 people will grab their iPhones and call 911. That's a community.
I look back at all of my childhood neighbors who eagerly welcomed me onto their front porches on Halloween night. I fondly recall how they'd spend a little extra time gushing over my costume, ask me how school was going, and if I was excited to eat all of my candy. Spoiler alert: YES.
They made me feel special, loved, and appreciated. I almost felt bad taking candy they were so kind to me. Almost. Throughout the year, I would wave at them as I rode my bicycle through the neighborhood, and a special few, I would knock on their doors to say hello and visit with them for a few minutes.
One Halloween, however, I didn't get such a warm welcome. Now, I'd like to preface this in saying my mom had dressed the exact same way the year before, and I thought she looked so pretty and very clever. But when those old ladies opened their doors to see a tiny Lord of Darkness in front of them, I am pretty sure they were not amused.
I think a few clutched their pearls. I remember my parents earnestly trying to talk me out of such a theme, but I was convinced it was funny.
Maybe it was the curvy tail covered in deep red sequins, but I thought it was the greatest costume ever. Maybe it was because I didn't have to wear the plastic face mask and breathe in recycled air all night.
That might have been the year that my best friend Laura had to dress as one of the characters from the Bible at her very conservative Christian school's Harvest Festival. Yes, some Christians can't even say the word Halloween without freaking out. My Mom #2 had a stroke of genius in dressing her as Jezebel, complete with tons of costume jewelry and heavy rouge.
Whatever the case, I went pretty low key for the next few Halloweens. Until my parents returned from a trip to Kingsport, aka, the shopping mecca for those living in Eastern Kentucky.
I'll never forget when my parents walked through the front door, visibly giddy with excitement. "We've found your Halloween costume at Spencer's!" my Dad practically bounced with unbridled enthusiasm. You have to know my Dad. He's not excited about many things.
Y'all. I have a confession. I did not want to wear this costume. It was a cartoonishly large head of Happy, one of the Seven Dwarfs. I looked at it, knowing I was expected to wear it to school and thought, "That won't fit in my locker!" But I was a child who was willing to endure just about anything to see my parents that excited.
My Dad brought this giant plastic head over to me and affectionately placed it over me. I think it was designed for an adult, as it sank past my shoulders.
They looked at me, then at each other, and laughed maniacally. At least I think they looked at me and each other because I couldn't see out of this thing. I was in a little cocoon of plastic and beard hair. If I tilted it just right, I could see out of the nostrils, but that familiar sensation of breathing recycled air was my treasure to keep while ensconced inside.
There was a certain amount of freedom in a costume that concealed your identity. I found myself being a little bolder and a tad goofier in such an ensemble.
When Halloween finally came, I left for school, backpack slung over both shoulders, carrying this eternally cheerful, decapitated garden gnome knock-off with both hands as I climbed onto the school bus.
It was eerily quiet. People stared. And it just spurred me on further. I realized that day I love making people feel awkward.
I put the head on and rode to school the entire way running my fingertips along the black beard. I wish I knew what kind of synthetic hair that was, as it could have made a very silky and realistic weave.
I walked into fifth grade, my confidence soaring until I remembered I had nowhere to store this thing until our class party. I took it off and asked my teacher, "Can I leave this in the back along the bookshelf?" All she managed was a nod.
The time of our party came and I realized this thing was a huge hit. Everyone thought it was hysterical. My teacher then prompted me to go to different classrooms and ask the crowd, "Has anyone seen Snow White?"
Dead silence every time. It was hands down the best costume I ever wore.
Decades later, I realized I found my people when my distillery coworkers all peer pressured each other into dressing up for Halloween.
I researched costumes online and found the perfect one. It was irreverent, clever, and had just enough kitsch I could pull it off. When it arrived, my husband insisted on trying it on too. Much to my dismay, he sheepishly asked, "Can I wear this tomorrow to my work's Halloween costume contest?" He made the most handsome bearded Mona Lisa I've ever witnessed.
So on that spirited note, may I extend a Happy Halloween to all of you. May your feet be resilient, the costumes hysterical, and the coveted Reece Cups be plentiful!
And Fuller Boo Bags are available while supplies last!
Thanks for reading!
~ Christy
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