Pumpkins, winter coats, and Aunt Jemima…What do these three items have in common? In my family, Halloween is the common denominator. Pumpkins are obvious. If you live in Michigan as I do, winter coats are an often unfortunate requirement for our Halloween costumes. You primp and prep for just the perfect costume, be it Raggedy Ann as it was for me one year or a baseball player as it was for my sister that same year (thanks to our older brother’s uniform). More often than not, once you reached that premium look you were striving for and were ready to hit the streets for that much sought-after candy, Mom stopped you. “Make sure you wear your coat!” Heavy sigh. Seriously? It covers the whole costume! But Mom insisted so you did it.
Growing up in a Christian home we still observed Halloween for what it meant to us at the time…dressing up as a non-scary character and having fun. I attended many Halloween parties as a child, bobbing for apples and trying to bite an elusive doughnut hanging from a string, all the while laughing with good friends. My Mom would make and painstakingly frost the pumpkin cutout sugar cookies she was nearly famous for and put up a few decorations. She’d buy candy, enough for the few neighborhood children who might stop by and special ones for us and little cousins she knew would be visiting. There was nothing frightening surrounding this day for us. It was about fun and love as we watched Mom prepare and enjoy what she did best, serving others and making them feel special, even on Halloween.
As for Aunt Jemima, well, that was a costume Mom cooked up for me one year. I think I was about 8 years old, too young to resist this crazy idea. But God love her, my Mom thought it was somehow perfect for me. She dressed me just like you’d think, painted face, a long prairie-type skirt, topping it off with a head scarf. The winter coat seemed to coordinate perfectly somehow. I remember wondering what on earth she was thinking with this costume choice. She was dressing me up as the syrup bottle lady! I was unhappy with her creation and embarrassed when folks opened their doors, laughed, and one lady even made me stay at the door so she could call her husband to see me. Later, I was happy to realize that Aunt Jemima (as she appeared on the syrup bottle) was jolly. She had plump cheeks (I had plump cheeks at age 8), she looked happy, and signified something my Mom held dear, cooking. My Mom took a shine to these syrup bottles so much so that she collected them for decoration. What was once my worst Halloween memory somehow spun into a funny, joyful one.
Enjoy your day however you choose to acknowledge it. Be safe and kind, as you would any other day. And remember, 54 days until Christmas!
