A Soggy Autumn Adventure awaits...

I'm pretty sure every little boy dreams of a place where all the John Deere tractors are new, unrusted, tires fully aired and no lines. Add muddy puddles for extra excitement. If you can't handle that much fun, imagine that inside they serve hot apple cider and honey-crisp apple bacon jerky with donuts fresh from the oven. A cinnamon mess waiting to happen but did we do it? Yes, we  did. 

We then had to pick the perfect pumpkin. Just one small part of the big Halloween tradition. This time of year has all sorts of treats: squash patches, haunted houses, corn mazes, haunted trolley rides, and all sorts of merriment for children.  Part of celebrating the Day of the Dead and Halloween is to be humbled by our presence in the Living. Celebrate Life with fun and happiness because it nods respect to those who have passed. 

Halloween is always hard for me. It has so many happy memories from a childhood overshadowed with loss of innocence. Halloween was the one time of year I fit in, was bullied less, felt pride over my knowledge of strange things and to be scared was accepted. Fear was my friend and Halloween celebrated that. It also celebrated the art of being someone else, wearing a mask, and as the child of abuse - I was good at that too.

Halloween meant my mom was happy and leaves were falling. The windows were opening and cigarette clouds could pass in the wind to a breath of fresh air in my own home.  Pumpkin pies would be made in excess and that meant the perfect breakfast, snack and dessert throughout the week. Candy in my pocket, the bin of dress-up clothes was out and permission granted and wearing my mom's bright make-up was somehow 'okay'. Only this time of year.

A silent truce was made between my mother's family and her odd beliefs. Her dancing by the moonlight and planting flowers by the phases, playing tricks and reading palms was something she could do with pride and even make a few bucks!  My Christian grandparents would allow the 'spooky talk' and for a brief moment, the grand-kids could talk about the ghosts on the property.  Intuition was allowed, windows were open, gates were unlocked and there was always so much to eat. 

Pumpkin rolls, fudge, caramelized apples, apple pies, strudels, apple crumbles, apple butter, jams, jellies, chutneys, pecan pies, and competitions for the best homemade Pumpkin pie with fresh hand-churned ice cream and whipped topping. Cinnamon sticks boiling on the stove, mule on tap, cider or spiced eggnog on the counter. It was always so orange, warm, safe and delicious. It was also my Grandma Fern's birthday.

That meant that everyone, far and wide, would gather with treats and plates of food to bring Grandma Fern a birthday celebration.  Halloween meant I could gather with cousins, smash pennies on the train tracks, trick or treat all through Kansas City and maybe stop by the Haunted Houses downtown.  We would eat until we were stuffed, my mom always behaved for the family gatherings, and seeing my Christian Grandma dress up like a witch with her handmade brooms was a hoot. It all felt right.

Then, in 2006, after everyone had called to give their Birthday wishes to Grandma, the two kicked back in their soft chairs for the evening as they digested their Dairy Queen.  It was Halloween, most of the world was out celebrating, as I had plans to do that night, but in 2006, on his wife's birthday, my grandpa and favorite mentor on the planet, died in his home.  Halloween became a true milestone of death for me that year.

Now, I feel I have come full circle as a mom, to see the positive celebrations once again emerge in the innocence of my children. They are excited to dress up and again I get to think of how I loved this day for so long, and how I love it still.  It also means I miss my grandpa a bit extra, my grandma a bit extra and the lack of family gatherings. A reminder that indeed, eventually, everyone we love dies.