An angel and a wolf
Photos by Katherine Smith
Halloween in my neighborhood is amazing. I live in an inner city neighborhood in Fort Worth, Texas, and we get over a thousand trick-or-treaters. The streets are jammed with cars and pedestrians. Special ambulance crews bring disabled children to trick or treat, and I’ve heard that some churches bus students here.
Photos by Katherine Smith
Halloween in my neighborhood is amazing. I live in an inner city neighborhood in Fort Worth, Texas, and we get over a thousand trick-or-treaters. The streets are jammed with cars and pedestrians. Special ambulance crews bring disabled children to trick or treat, and I’ve heard that some churches bus students here.
My neighbors, Jay and Susan, have
established a tradition of Halloween on their porch. They buy bags and bags of
candy, invite a few neighbors, and serve delicious stew—this year ladled over
colcannon, an Irish dish of mashed potatoes and cabbage. It was wonderful.
Kids—and adults—start coming about six
o’clock, and usually we wrap it up about eight. I came home by 8:30 tonight,
and I can still hear and see cars, so I’m sitting in my dark house with only
the computer light on. In all the throngs of children, I rarely recognize any.
Tonight I knew one boy, grandson of friends who were on the porch with us. Ours
is a neighborhood focused on children, and I don’t know where and how the kids
I know spend the evening—but the kids who come are from other neighborhoods.
The children are the wonderful thing
about the evening—their expressions range from pure joy to cautious, but
uniformly they are polite, take what is given them without grabbing for more, and
say thank you. Parents are equally polite and grateful. Susan’s father and I
are the senior citizens, so we are absolved from sitting on the step and giving
out candy but everyone else takes a turn.
Otherwise, the day was pleasant—I began
moving into the bathroom, moved everything out of the small bathroom and
realized too late there is not yet a mirror in the new one for putting on
makeup. Still it was good to get a start on the process. My brother and sister-in-law
came about 1:30 so he could give me an osteopathic soft tissue treatment. He
sure knows how to find the spots in spasm and release them—it hurts while he
does it, but I am much better afterward. And I walk more confidently. Coming to
treat me involves taking most of his day because he lives an hour and a half
away—yes, I’m grateful beyond words. After they left, I had a bit of wine and a
good long nap. Perfect way to spend a soggy day, although the rain was long
gone in time for trick-or-treaters tonight.
Tomorrow is All Saints Day, the time
we remember loved ones who have passed on. If you study the Mexican tradition
of El Dia de los Muertos, you realize ours is a corrupted and watered down
version of a rich tradition meant to honor the dead.