For several days now I have been thinking about Halloween. Of course, that is no surprise. Like a magic pollen, its intoxicating fragrance invades the swirling fallen leaves on my front porch and its corn candy scent wafts through the brisk Autumn air seeping into the cracks of the now dried flowers of my yard. From my office window a mirthful pumpkin-face across the street has transformed into a loyal friend who, at this moment, is witnessing approvingly the neighbor's diminutive pirates scurrying on the walk. It's also a time when I recollect that I once I dressed up as a pizza for a party at the Uppertown Pub and also recall driving my own masqueraded children, undaunted by a torrential downpour, along Youngs River Road to town in pursuit of adventure and sweet treasure.
On a different note, I considered this week more complex issues regarding this holiday. Thanks in part to my dearest friend Jenny, who related to me that the celebration of Halloween had been removed from her son's school and then, later by Tapirgal ,who shared with me that an employee had asked for personal time to be with his family out of religious convictions, I embarked on a serious questioning spree. I began to examine the term "witch", which (ha ha) was spurred on my memory of the yearly decorations in Astoria of hags on brooms smashed into lampposts. I asked myself whether these characterizations of old insane women may inappropriately perpetuate ancient prejudice in our society toward followers of Wicca. I had often voiced to friends that aetheists were most likely the most discriminated group in America until I weighed the chance that a declared Wicca follower being elected to office. This prompted me to learn more about this group and looked for information in "Wika"pedia. I also asked Raksha's opinion who shared generously both history and common ideas about Wicca and witchcraft.
I thought I heard a knock in my mind right now and opened to find before me both a real phantom and a play one holding hands. I gave them both a good looking-over and then dropped the words of this post into their orange-lanterned bucket. They have now receded and disappeared into the night but I expect to see them revisit next year. The hour is late and the wizard of sleep is spreading his vapor over the house. Before turning out the light, I eye the left- over candy. Eating one morsel could be like finding the fountain of youth. Mmmm. Now that's a rare treat!