Tonsilitis

Do you find that there are questions that come up repeatedly in your life? I do. The one that comes up most for me is; "Is this the way this is supposed to be? Really?"
Whether it was my Mother's cooking, my hand-me-down clothes, the level of parental oversight (or lack thereof) or my Dad's unsympathetic approach to everything, I have always and still find myself asking, "Was this supposed to turn out this way?" Most times, I'm convinced it wasn't.

When I was five, I got Tonsillitis. Most kids do at some point. My case was pretty bad. I remember staying home sick which in and of itself was remarkable. But I also remember the doctor being fairly alarmed at the state of my condition when I was finally taken to him. He wanted me in the hospital right then - immediately. My Mother was told not even to bother taking me home. She told him 'No.' Instead, she chose the 'prescription and return home' option. Since part of the prescription - along with the antibiotics - was that I begin chewing gum, I guess I was okay with it too. I was never given gum and I remember how much it hurt when I tried to chew it. (Was it always like this?) My whole jaw ached with each 'chew.' It was only then that I knew I must have been pretty sick. I couldn't eat. I had alarmed the pediatrician. My Mom was indifferent. (Was her reaction normal?)

It was almost Halloween. Because was sick, I couldn't go out Trick-or-Treating. So not fair and definitely not how I thought it should be. But neither was the impending trip to the hospital that I knew lay nearer and nearer on the horizon. I was so scared. (Was I supposed to be scared?) But I had heard stories that there would be ice cream - all I wanted - and that I wouldn't remember a thing. Even at five years old, I understood the implicit value of being able to block things from my mind.

My parents took me to the hospital in the evening. I would be having a Tonsillectomy the next morning. They walked me to my room, helped me change and put me in bed. They said goodbye and they left. That night was one of the most unsympathetic exchanges and the loneliest nights of my life. I remember the sound of my Mom's shoes fading down the hallway. Nobody came. Nobody told me what to expect. Nobody told me what to do if I needed a bathroom. Nobody told me if I was supposed to sleep with the lights on. Nobody did anything. (Was this how it was meant to be?) The only thing anyone told me is that there would be ice cream and so far I hadn't been offered any.
Finally, I had to go to the bathroom so bad I got up and walked out of my room to the hallway to find a bathroom. As I came out a nurse scolded me for getting up and hurriedly put me back to bed and turned out the light. I thought nurses were supposed to be caring. (Was this how it was supposed to be?)

I woke up the next day with a pain in my throat worse than I have ever experienced. My parents still weren't there. I felt groggy and the kids in the other beds were watching cartoons with their parents. A nurse brought me breakfast - scrambled eggs and toast. My Mother showed up - she put salt on the eggs and told me to try and eat. Can you imagine how salted eggs felt on my skinned throat? Still no ice cream. (Really? Was this how it was meant to be?)

A day or two later, my Mother came to pick me up and take me home - which was fine because I had still not been given a single dish of ice cream by anyone. I was still very sick and could barely keep awake as I lay on the blue vinyl backseat of the car on the ride home. She wanted to take me to lunch on the way - because I had been brave. We stopped at one of my favorite restaurants. She ordered me hot dogs and fries - with ketchup, plenty of ketchup. Again - not the wisest choice for a kid who just had her throat torn off in two places. I still remember how good it smelled and how bad it felt. I was done after one bite, but I sat while my Mother ate her lunch. (Was this how it was supposed to be?)

No. Not at all.

Hallmark Halloween

When I was a kid, we dressed as ideas, notions of behaviors or activities like lambs, spaceman, Fairies instead of the branded, iconic individual and very specific cartoon characters that movie studios license to sell. We made costumes.
We got together with a bunch of other kids our age (under twelve), went to the barn to get buckets and raced like a wolf pack through the darkened neighborhood screaming, laughing and blissfully at ease in the independence that traipsing across lawns and tripping over Jack-O-Lanterns demands. We were free and we were on a mission. -A true team effort if ever there was one. Despite that we didn't actually like any of those kids during the daylight - they made perfect companions for one night.
Our buckets were filled with home made treats (popcorn balls were my personal favorite), apples, games, puzzles and pieces of gum or hard candy.

Things sure have changed!
This year, I watched my kids yearn for mass-produced costumes that weren't embarrassing the way that home made costumes must be. Funny, even as Aunt Jemima or Fu Man Choo, I was never embarrassed. It was a costume - not a political statement. Then again, I was eight and had sugar on the brain.
My son ran with just one other boy as opposed to a pack. Operating under the 'you can only go as fast as your slowest member' theory, he decided to cut his losses and stick with speed - which hopefully, would ensure more candy.
I guess the 'sorting' ritual is still intact. Especially for my youngest son. He likes to take inventory. He has always been preoccupied with organization. (Why this doesn't carry over to his dresser drawers is beyond me. But it doesn't.) When I was invited to survey the takings, I was really surprised to find only one piece of Double Bubble, no candy cigarette sticks, no Chicklets, not an apple in sight, nor a popcorn ball, a Rice Crispy Treat or even a box of raisins. Even more alarming - no Candy Corn and only two Caramels. Nothing that couldn't be hermetically or figuratively sealed from the outside influence of the world - like the germs left behind by the innocent touch of another as they offer it.

Even the Jack-O-Lanterns are different. Most I saw were made of painted Styrofoam and illuminated with electric lights. Clean, homogeneous, sanitary. They don't smell like pumpkin pie as they 'cook' in the flame of an actual candle. No actual slugs crawling in and out - feeding on their own private and tiny holiday feast.
I thought Halloween was supposed to have an implicit layer or gore, vileness and rawness to it. These are the characteristics that pushed it just beyond the realm of entirely safe and that also made it so feverishly attractive to kids.
Out at night, candy from strangers, the absence of parental supervision, be someone else. It was a beautiful thing. It was a tangibly different day with rough edges that required real bravery not canned pseudo-bravery.

The new version of Halloween is for syndicated, licensed and branded weenies. And don't even get me started on Devil's Night. Those were the days!