www.storymania.com
Storymania Logo

 

 

Essays




Ego by Ramkumar Menon How Ego can affect you? How could you communicate to avoid ego clashes? [2,617 words]
Turning To Him by Randall Barfield No description. [354 words]
The Death Of My Mom by Randall Barfield A short reflection on a lack of tears for my mom. [565 words]
World Cubanization--Afghanization by Randall Barfield A brief essay about some things we cannot change in this world and the dreari... [775 words]
Blubber, Blubber, Armchair Lubber by Randall Barfield A short essay about the REAL truth behind dieting, etc. [870 words]
Let's Legalize Pot! by James Cartwright Just an essay I was proud of. You probobly won't be. That's life. Some credit goes to Andre... [810 words]
Everything's Routine by Pearl S The frightening realization that people live their entire lives like gerbils running in th... [662 words]
Why We Should Not Invade Iraq by James Cartwright This is just an essay I wrote, that I thought was particularly well written. I li... [725 words]
The Hopeless Cynic: Let's Get Typical by Robert G Hagans It's been forever, but I thought it was time to make a comeback. My lates... [2,288 words]
Rape Of Maya's Singing Caged Bird by Samantha Carter About nothing in particular; discussing an awful event that happened a really... [1,079 words]
The Adventure Of Human Freedom by Jeffrey (George) Winter As title indicates. [1,149 words]
What We Say, What They Hear by John Sheirer Humorous look at the ways people in romantic relationships misunderstand each other... [1,721 words]
Jeffrey Dahmers In Suits by Mike Schilller The truth about the corporate creeps who are promoting war for oil and personal profit... [923 words]
A Candle Still Burning: An Excerpt From My Memoir by Vianne-Marie Fortier This is a piece I am doing for my memoir about growing up and... [864 words]
Strength's Illusion by Jeffrey (George) Winter A visit with a disabled friend: How our understandings of strength affect our relationships... [1,696 words]
Revisiting Myself by Charles Cotterman I went back to the old essays, and I have some new philosophies. [357 words]
The Best Friend by Kylan Masters I wrote this essay because so many guys came to me and said that they had these best friends th... [1,429 words]
Mac-Man by Kylan Masters A humerous essay written on how to pick-up women. [990 words]
The Immigrant Story by David Soriano Elaboration on the Led Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song". [979 words]
The Evil Eye by Norman A Rubin The evil eye is paranoia whose victims are diagnosed on the basis that they see plots everywhere a... [1,440 words]
Reflective Essay On Classroom Discipline by Randall Barfield This essay was written as part of the requirements for a course in ele... [2,676 words]
Lapine Roles by Vianne-Marie Fortier Yay! My last English paper of 8th grade! This one's about the important roles that the Watership D... [933 words]
Bardo Blurb by Sunny Drinking a beer in a bar, some thoughts! [311 words]
Student And Studies by Juned Ahsan To motivate myself and others. [524 words]
Evolving To Simplicity; Our Lack Of Human Evolution by Branson Storm A few thoughts on why our species is incapable of achieving... [5,571 words]
Needed: Diversity In Education by Randall Barfield Including More Studies In Distinct Cultures Needed Urgently: Give-A-Shit Parents... [867 words]
If Only (If Only) by Joseph Robert Herrick A message to compromise and be accepting on the issue of abortion. [554 words]
Unemployment: Cum Laude And The Greatest Terrorist by Randall Barfield 2-cents' worth about employment? [563 words]
Daddy And Me: Making The Rounds by Randall Barfield A little wallow? [428 words]
The Effects Of Human Cloning Through Experimentation by Elizabeth A Letourneau This essay is based on a project for my senior year of sch... [2,481 words]
Life With A Chocoholic by Ben Overby "...there on her hands and knees in the middle of the floor was the chocoholic gobbling ... [1,492 words]
Clothesline Conversations by Ben Overby Though we all bungle our color-filled lives with a splatter of blackness, the spark o... [1,730 words]
Racism In Modern Literature by Christian Obermanns - [704 words]
Play Ball: The Real Rite Of Spring by Steven R. Kravsow I love the spring. Wanna know why? Because spring is the time of year when g... [917 words]
It Happens To Us All by Niall Power Essay comparison. [750 words]
Glen Of Purity, In Wood Of Dying Light (Anne Frank Diary Entries) by Vianne-Marie Fortier This is an essay I had to do for English clas... [3,164 words]
The Green, Green Grass Of Home by Robert Edward Levin essay about holy war. [1,130 words]
The British Are Crying! The British Are Crying? by Branson Storm Editorial on the treatment of the 'detainees' at Camp X-Ray, Gu... [1,239 words]
Should RHS Change Its Attendance Policies? by Andrew Allyn Rasmussen This essay is purely my opinion on RHS's Attendance policies. It goe... [887 words]
Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative by Vianne-Marie Fortier This was a paper I had to do for English and, I decided to pu... [1,144 words]
The Diversity Mystique by Richard Koss The ultimate hype of political correctness. [1,083 words]
Four Of Them by Randall Barfield ...nobody has eight kids anymore either. Right? [259 words]
The Hopeless Cynic: Believing In Believing by Robert G Hagans Seems like a good time to submit this. It's not as coherant as some ... [1,395 words]
Lights, Camera, Action! by Clark G Curtis This is a look at how one young lad (mau) from southern Indiana spent the weeks leading... [3,184 words]
Imagine That by Duck A short essay describing my childhood escape. [502 words]
Ten--Hour Weddings by Randall Barfield About South American weddings. [510 words]
Let The Air Begin by Clark G Curtis While growing up in southern Indiana the rites of fall included sitting on the forced air hea... [1,565 words]
What Would He Think? by Randall Barfield An attempt to look at ourselves constructively. [559 words]
Population Out Of Control! by Frank Dunsmore At the rate of 94.5 million more people on the planet each year, you might wonder ho... [984 words]
Betsy In The Twenty-First Century by Frank Dunsmore My grandfather was one of the first owners of an automobile and one of the fi... [1,990 words]
Randy's Advice To Young Writers by Randall Barfield - [807 words]
My Mother, The Halloweenie
May Mothers And Fathers by Randall Barfield A short essay about those parents who want to push academic responsibility off onto oth... [479 words]
Fishing Obligations by Randall Barfield A short essay about parental responsibilities and kids' obligations. [558 words]

Go to page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [9] 10 11
TITLE (EDIT)
My Mother, The Halloweenie
DESCRIPTION
Reflections on my favorite holiday and how it has changed.
[1,460 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Humor
AUTHOR
Jennifer L O'callaghan
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[November 2001]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
[email protected]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (5)
Haul Out The Holly (Short Stories) This is a holiday story I wrote for a writing class, inspired by what my sisters and I call "The House of Tacky" in our neighborhood. [2,087 words]
Make Him Crave You (Short Stories) When bad dating advice happens to clueless women. [1,674 words] [Humor]
Not Necessarily Cancer (Short Stories) A young woman's reaction to her abnormal Pap smear. [1,920 words] [Literary Fiction]
Packed With Peanuts (Short Stories) This is a flash fiction piece I wrote for a writing class about an attempted late night snack. [731 words]
Remembering Jamie (Essays) Thoughts following the unexpected death of an old friend [793 words]
My Mother, The Halloweenie
Jennifer L O'callaghan

My first apartment was an isolated little abode hidden behind an automatically locking door and up a narrow flight of stairs. On most evenings, I enjoyed the solitude – even called it my penthouse, although it was only on the second floor.

But on Halloween, I hated it. Each year, I played eerie background music of shrieks and moans and lit my apartment in black light and flickering jack-o’-lanterns.

But no trick-or-treaters ever found their way to my door.

Granted, there were not too many kids in my neighborhood, anyway. And those that were there struck me as the rougher sort… The kind that would rather toilet paper trees or leave bags of flaming poo on doorsteps than beg for a fun-size Snickers.

So I began to bundle my bags of Runts, Nerds, Twix bars and Pop Rocks and head over to my parents’ house on the other side of the city to celebrate All Hallow’s Eve.

I couldn’t miss out on the fun, you see. It’s my favorite holiday. Ever since I was little I was fascinated by it… My grandma once told me it was the only night of the year that the veil between the living and the dead was so thin that it was possible for spirits to return to Earth. A chance to rub elbows with ghouls and ghosts? Bring it on!

And let’s not forget the candy. Free candy. No strings attached. Not like Christmas candy, which required at least nine months of mild behavior, peace on Earth, goodwill to sisters and cousins. Not like Easter candy, either, which came with a sort of obligatory holiness – after all, someone had to die to make that holiday worth celebrating. No, Halloween did not come with that baggage. Rather, it encouraged mischief, goofiness, devilish pleasure.

In short, Halloween blew all the other holidays out of the water.

My mother, however, did not seem to share my love of the spooktacular season. For one thing, she and my father gave out raisins instead of chocolate or bubble gum. Raisins, for God’s sake! Droves of disappointed children left our house each year with the little boxes of what she called “nature’s candy.”

I think there was a direct correlation between the number of raisin “treats” she distributed and the number of times our house got egged on Mischief Night.

The only time she outdid the ongoing O’Callaghan raisin fiasco was the year she and my father passed out nickels. Now I realize that in her day, you could go see a Saturday afternoon double feature for a nickel. She told me almost every time we passed the Colonial Theatre in nearby Pompton Lakes. But by the time I was old enough to don rubber mask and frightening fangs, a nickel wouldn’t even buy a pack of gum.

The fact that most kids bypassed our raisin emporium each year did not faze my mom. She did not stop there, either, in her efforts to thwart my plans for a howling good holiday. Once the clocks changed, she was convinced that every warm-blooded mammal - from our dog, Kekko, to my squabby father – needed a sweater when the sun went down. Therefore, my sisters and I had to don cardigans or pullovers as soon as we stepped out the front door at dusk each night. Halloween was no exception.

Her neurosis instantly identified my sisters and me to our fellow trick-or-treaters, no matter how cleverly we dressed otherwise.

“Which hobgoblin is Jen?” I would imagine them asking each other.

“Why, she’s the mummy, of course. The one in the sweater.”

I would try to plead my case… No self-respecting witch would wear a sweater on a night of mayhem, I told her one year. But no dice. I have never, ever seen Wonder Woman wearing a cardigan, I wailed another October. But my mom always prevailed. Even when Halloween fell on a balmy, 87-degree Indian summer evening, I could be seen going from door to door as a chipmunk … in a sweater.

 As if all that were not bad enough, my mother’s willingness to believe in urban legends had a devastating effect on the amount of sugary sweets my sisters and I would enjoy in the week or so that followed the holiday. Frightened by tales of razor blades in Sugar Daddies and drugged-out hippies passing out candy wrappers of poo, my mother would send me, my father and my bag of loot to the local police station, where one by one, each treat would pass through detectors. Half my hard-won goodies, deemed too suspect to eat, landed in the trash bin each year.

There were some aspects of Halloween she couldn’t touch, though. For instance, each year, our church held a special party for its youth. And each year, I walked away with the bobbing for apples championship.

I was untouchable, mostly for my total commitment to the apple. Other kids’ lips would barely skim the surface of the basin of water, fearing their elaborate make-up would smear or their spangly costumes would be ruined. But I always approached the bobbing with gusto – willing to submerge my head and neck until my teeth snapped the skin of a wayward McIntosh. After all, I reasoned, no one would see the top half of my costume on Halloween, anyway – it would be under my sweater.

And the morning after Halloween was an experience that even my hippie-fearing, sweater-wearing, raisin-loving mother could not mar. My sisters and I would bring our respective stashes to the kitchen table and pile our collection of Butterfingers, Blow Pops and Baby Ruths in front of us, ready to bargain. Kathy wore braces, so she didn’t have much haggling power to trade her treats for more orthodontia-friendly goodies. But Erin and I approached our exchanges with furrowed brow and poker face.

“I’ll trade you a Reese’s peanut butter cup for one Chunky.”

“No way. A Chunky is worth at least two peanut butter cups and a package of Smarties.”

“Two peanut butter cups? What do you take me for? I’ll give you one peanut butter cup and three Bazooka Joes.”

“Throw in the green apple Laffy Taffy and you’ve got a deal.”

And so the bartering would continue until all that was left were the handful of Mary Janes at the bottom of our bags. You couldn’t trade those puppies for anything… except maybe raisins.

Although my days of going from door to door may be over, I have not given up my love affair with the holiday. But, I‘ve got to tell you – it has changed. And I don’t just mean the costumes. My eyes were opened that first year I went to help my parents pass out their candy.

Minivans drove up to our driveway and out would pop a neighborhood-load of kids, clamoring for candy, which my parents, now too old to worry about washing egg off their windows on November 1st, have finally consented to buy each year. I was appalled. When I was little, my friends and I trooped from neighborhood to neighborhood until our little legs quivered from exhaustion. We earned that candy, dammit.

That’s not the only new kink in the night, though. There are some kids who don’t even dress up anymore. A crowd of teenagers wearing jeans and a motley assortment of T-shirts came up our walk and thrust pillowcases at me. Not an even a chorus of “Trick or treat!” Just sullen, expectant silence.

“What are you guys supposed to be?” I asked, holding the bowl of candy out of their reach on my parents’ front step.

They looked at me blankly. One spiky-haired teen scowled back, “We’re not supposed to be anything.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Well, you can’t have any candy, then. You’ve got to work for it. You’ve got to dress up. What’s wrong with you people?

And then my mother was at my ear, eyeing the collection of piercings and tattoos trampling her azalea bush.

“For God’s sake, Jen. Give him a Milky Way,” she hissed at me.

But I refused. And my mother, the same woman who dropped box after box of Sunmaid raisins into my friends’ hopeful bags 10 years before, the same woman who believed the mojo of my Princess Leia get-up would shine through from beneath my Alpaca button-down, my mother pulled the bowl of candy from my hands and dumped packages of Milk Duds, candy corn and Juju Bees into the bags of those costume-less kids.

I guess it’s not just the holiday that’s changed, but my mom as well. She’s afraid of the trick-or-treaters now instead of the adults giving out the candy. And Hershey bars fill the pumpkin bowl that once held her boxes of raisins. But I don’t get why she surrendered her candy to that pack of spiritless teens.

After all, none of those kids was wearing a sweater.



      
      
      
      

 

Submit Your Review for My Mother, The Halloweenie
Required fields are marked with (*).
Your e-mail address will not be displayed.

Your Name*     E-mail*

City     State/Province     Country

Your Review (please be constructive!)*


Please Enter Code*:

Submit Your Rating for My Mother, The Halloweenie

Worst     1     2     3     4     5     6     7     8     9     10     Best

COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2001 Jennifer L O'callaghan
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
October 2001
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2755
 

Copyright © 1998-2001 Storymania Technologies Limited. All Rights Reserved.