Childhood in Light of Halloween

Halloween happens to be in my top 3 favorite holidays. On days like today, when the routine of life and the fluorescent lights of the library are determined to crush my spirit, I claim it as my very favorite (yes, above all the big ones: Christmas, Easter, the 4th of July, Arbor Day). To an extent, I may have inherited my enthusiasm for the creepiest of holidays from my younger sister, Victoria, who has gone all out for Halloween for as long as I can remember. It was only a matter of time, though, before my love of Edgar Allan Poe, Alfred Hitchcock, and Snickers caught up with me, too...yes, I love Halloween.

To celebrate this year, I dressed up as the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, one of my favorite books from when I was a kid. I made my own ears, rocked a pair of overalls, drew on whiskers and a little nose, and stuck a cookie (made of paper) in my pocket. And true to character, all day long, I craved a glass of milk to go with my cookie. I went to class, work, my internship at Darkness to Light, and my ESL class dressed as a mouse...I had no shame. It was Halloween! I am proud to say I elicited several smiles as people saw me walking down the street and when I entered a room.

The grand finale of my day caught me off guard. I thought the festivities were long over, and I was ready to wipe the drawn-on eyeliner off my nose. I was in a deserted frozen yogurt shop where my roommate, Courtney, works, waiting patiently for her to finish closing. Unexpectedly, she turned the music up, and recognition rolled over me: "Shout" by Tears for Fears. It was a beckoning back to our "American Duos: Shawn as Curt Smith and Gus as Michael Jackson" costume from last year. We danced in the classic Shawn and Gus fashion. No idea what I'm talking about? Here's a video to catch you up:

Anyway, one of the main reasons I love Halloween is that it is a celebration of childhood. For adults, it is the only day in the year where it is acceptable to "play dress up" and eat absurd amounts of candy. For me, as a child, I definitely exercised these freedoms more than just on Halloween. Halloween was the pinnacle of piecing together fun costumes and sitting on the floor surrounding myself with discarded candy wrappers until my stomach was swollen with sugary bliss. Remember trading pieces of candy with your friends? Remember the disappointment of getting a box of raisins or peppermint? Remember cold Halloweens where you just ended up wearing a coat over your costume as you trick-or-treated? Remember suspending disbelief and being genuinely terrified by every elongated shadow, yet finding nothing but joy in the terror?

I'm thinking a lot about childhood these days and what it means to reclaim it. With my work at Darkness to Light, I've learned a lot about child sexual abuse and the damage it does not only to a person's childhood but also to their future. There's something really freeing about looking back at the happy moments of your childhood, reflecting on the innocence and the intensity coloring every experience. I want to be more childlike in my everyday...not in the sense that I am immature and irresponsible, but that I really dig my toes into the dirt without worrying about getting dirty. I am currently planning an event for the spring centered around reclaiming childhood through the lens of child abuse as part of the Bonner Leader Program's Engage and Empower week.

So do me a favor and start thinking about your childhood. What are your favorite memories? What did you like to do most of all? What did you dream of becoming when you grew up? Who were your best friends? What was your favorite food? What music did you dance around to? What were your most painful moments? How did they shape you?
Tell me...what do you want to reclaim about your childhood?

The Things I Carried

Do you know that moment when you think you’re  completely packed up and ready to move out only to discover an entire cabinet or drawer that you neglected? Usually, there’s nothing too important in it. The important things get packed up right away, checked and double checked. But I think the leftover things in that last cabinet or drawer are important in their own telling way...

Last week, this is what I found:

A can of Orange Fanta: Coming into this year, I would have told you that was my favorite soda. It contains no caffeine, but it is bursting with bubbly orange sugar. I discovered it years ago. Now, though, I have this obsession with Dr. Pepper Ten. I know, I know...it’s not for women. Whatever. DP10 got me through my fiction writing class during the first half of this semester...the days when I left my room at 9:15 and went from class to work to the Children’s Museum to class to Bonner meetings, lucky to be back home by 9:30 to start my homework for the next day. On top of that, fiction writing was a hard class. My professor challenged me in so many ways, and after hearing him bark out my last name frequently in my twice a week, three hour long class, I was weary. At the end of the class, I actually cranked out a halfway decent short story and had a bonding moment with my professor where we realized we were both believers. He had a lot of good advice for this young, aspiring writer. Was it worth the stress and exhaustion? Probably. But I think Dr. Pepper Ten will forever taste like the sound of my name being barked at me.

Partners in Crime

A bottle of green spray paint: In perhaps one of my most unique and creative Halloween costumes ever, I used the spray paint to make a Psych t-shirt. Inspired by the “American Duos” episode of my favorite television show, my roommate and I were Gus as Michael Jackson and Shawn as Kurt Smith of Tears for Fears, respectively. It was so complicated to explain to people, but the looks on the faces of the people who follow the show were priceless. The costume was fairly accurate in describing our friendship, too. Like Shawn and Gus, we do our share of ear flicking and driving each other crazy, But in the midst of the INSANE  year we both had, it was good to have a partner in crime willing to make banana pancakes in the shape of the Millennium Falcon and make life seem just a little sunnier. We spent our last night together on Sullivan’s Island, just watching the right angled light beams from the lighthouse pan overhead and talking about all the adventures we’d had--the good, the bad, and the incredibly ugly. We’re going to be roommates again next year. It’s going to be awesome.

A jar of apple butter: From the Mennonites of Abbeville, SC--it’s amazing. Seriously. The only ingredients in it are apples and spices, no sweeteners and no preservatives. I appreciate that. It was a perfect discovery from last summer, since dairy was no longer a dietary option after my trip to Honduras and I needed to find new breakfast foods I could eat. Spread some Mennonite apple butter on a couple slices of toast in the morning and life was very sweet. Even more, I appreciate that my grandparents are the ones who supply the apple-y goodness. They were my rock of stability in the midst of moving around a lot growing up: they were always in Greenwood, in the same house with the same huge tree in the backyard with the same unending love just when I needed it. They are both amazing people.

A bar of soap: It was still in its little box, just waiting to be used. The soap seemed insignificant until I recently found a list of all the random things I wanted to do this school year that I typed up on my iPad back last summer when it was brand new. This list included everything from “Cook supper for one person at least once a week” to “Sing in the shower frequently, but don’t feel obligated to shower every day.” (The latter is my explanation for not finishing off my soap supply for the year.) Why would I make it a goal to shower less? I blame it mostly on my trip to Honduras. While there, we had (if lucky) an hour of “running water” each morning. That didn’t translate into a hot, comfortable shower...it meant a trickle of cold water that couldn’t really get all the shampoo out of your hair. It made me more aware of the massive amount of water Americans use daily. We really take our clean, seemingly unlimited access to water for granted. So in an effort to be a better steward of the water I’ve been blessed with, I spent this past year taking shorter and fewer showers. For my information, see Water Missions International's website. I’m quite smitten with their organization.

A bottle of pure maple syrup: Half-used and left over from some sweet potato souffle, it was a remnant of my goal to cook for others. I knew I liked to cook, particularly for other people, but I mostly put this goal out of my mind once life got crazy (basically day 1). I was lucky if I got to cook for myself, much less anyone else. About halfway through fall semester, though, I grew very uneasy with the way I was doing life. Still without remembering this idea that I should cook weekly for other people, I decided to start, with Courtney’s help, cooking one meal a week for the people on our hall. I sought organic community, and what’s more organic than the people I live with? This easily became the most rewarding and exciting part of my week. Courtney and I tried out great recipes, made great friends, and created a home for ourselves and others in Rutledge 407. I didn’t even realize I had accidentally fulfilled one of my goals until a couple days ago. Crazy. Perhaps the saddest part of the year ending has been realizing that even when we go back in the fall, it won’t be the same. Next year, we’ll live with an entirely different crew...I guess that’s both saddening and exciting.

That’s it. The last year in five random household items that were almost abandoned when I moved out. It’s too simplistic. It’s much too final. But there it is.