It’s probably no surprise that Halloween is my favorite Holiday. There are enough Wiki sites and documentaries to cover the history of Halloween; this blog post isn’t about the origins of it, or my history with it. As a horror writer and artist, this is the time of year that I am in synch with the creative and celebratory themes of the United States.
After today, attention in America will turn to Black Friday (sadly, not connected to Halloween, but a horrific shopping day), Thanksgiving and X-mas. Common discussion among the throngs will turn to feasts, materialism and football.
And my focus will turn to post-Halloween sales of cool décor and art. As a Humanist, I don’t observe X-mas; I also participate in Thanksgiving for family reasons, but I’m not a supporter of the history of the holiday (truly, what we did to Native Americans was horrifying, and could be its own Halloween-themed event).
While I love the Halloween holiday, I don’t celebrate in public ways. I don’t give out candy to kids, mostly because I’m not home from work in time to do so. I don’t get costumed up and hit bars on Halloween night, mostly due to the drunks and dangerous individuals that can make it a ghastly night. I don’t get invited to Halloween parties, mostly as a result of the fact that I’m somewhat antisocial (I promote my brand as a necessary evil).
I do find the history of Halloween, and it’s complicated mix of Pagan and Chrisitan roots very intriguing. Christian history is fascinating to me; I’m captivated by the proliferation and influence of religious propaganda across cultures and countries throughout the human timeline. You’ll see that as a recurring theme throughout my blogs and my content.
That aside, Halloween is a time of celebration. Depending on your view of the holiday, you probably celebrate it differently than I do.
Regardless, I hope all have a pleasant (and safe) Halloween! Need a soundtrack to your macabre festivities? Check out my Halloween 2017 playlist and song recommendations!
(by Louise Glück)
BY LOUISE GLÜCK
Even now this landscape is assembling.
The hills darken. The oxen
sleep in their blue yoke,
the fields having been
picked clean, the sheaves
bound evenly and piled at the roadside
among cinquefoil, as the toothed moon rises:
This is the barrenness
of harvest or pestilence.
And the wife leaning out the window
with her hand extended, as in payment,
and the seeds
distinct, gold, calling
Come here, little one
And the soul creeps out of the tree.