I hate Halloween. I have ever since we moved to Dublin Street, 38 years ago. Sorry for those of you who love it. It took me quite a few years to actually figure out how much I hated it. Here are some of the reasons why:

First … there are the pillow cases for the treats! Seriously? That was all new to me as an Upper Canadian. I always thought plastic grocery bags were quite enough treats for a small child. But I was told … “no, the tradition here is to use pillow cases.” That just seemed excessive. Never mind the first time the kids came home to empty their pillow cases and go out again … don’t even get me started. And then there’s all the managing of the treats afterwards … the theories of consumption … do we let them eat it all at once to get it over with or have it last for weeks … and weeks …

Another thing that contributed to my dislike of the evening was that I was often alone with the kids … handing out treats at the door and making sure the kids were accompanied by an adult when they were small and out trick or treating. “How convenient” that Pat managed to be working on many Halloween nights I would whine.

To be absolutely fair, he would always lead the pumpkin carving and costume creating in the week before – which always produced awesome results. (pictures of his handiwork above and below).

Dublin St. is one of those areas in Halifax where folks bring carloads of kids in to drop them off. There are a lot of houses close together and it has always been seen to be a safe neighbourhood. We would actually see the vans on the corners with kids spilling out. Some would even get turned around and come to the house twice.

The numbers dipped of course duing COVID days but we are prepared for over 200 tomorrow night.

For many years we ran out (we did last year). Sometimes we would run out to get more, but of course if it was only one of us at home that wasn’t an option. Even after I would turn off the lights (inside and outside), take down the decorations and lock the doors they would ring the doorbell. Then I got to opening it. I was so mad … only to be met by teenagers who hadn’t even bothered to dress up. “Sorry” I would snarl … “I ran out after 200.” Again, to be fair … I was mostly met with sheepish apologies.

Or the new parents with tiny babies – perhaps with antlers or rabbits’ ears attached to their tiny heads - walking around with their pillow cases asking for treats. Really? These are for the baby are they?

When I went to Toronto and lived in a small apartment building I realized I actually missed the whole ritual … impending dread, rising anger, shame, regret … the occasional burst of laughter at a clever costume and delight at polite thank yous and excitement.

I actually find myself looking forward to tomorrow night. And Pat will be home. And we have over 200 treats. And I will try to behave myself. However I can’t find the few meager decorations we would put out in the pre-Covid years … might even have to go our and buy a few more.

Perhaps I am looking for a bright spot after the news of Patrick Stewart’s passing yesterday. I am devastated. I can’t imagine a world without Patrick Stewart. My sons and I connected over Star Trek The Next Generation and watched it together for years. And over the past few decades I have enjoyed his movies, talk show appearances and facebook posts. I remember looking forward to his daily sonnet readings during COVID. They were inspirational. And his facebook post knitting in his Christmas jammies. If I was younger I would dress up as Captain Picard … or at least be knitting in Christmas PJs.