Things I Tell My Wife by Matt Knutson

“You’re telling me the only time you dressed up for Halloween as a child was when you went as Britney Spears?” I questioned my wife over dinner.

My unbelief led to laughter as I imagined my wife dressed as the pop icon. I’m not sure if I laughed harder when I was told she didn’t opt for a blond wig, meaning her interpretation of Ms. Spears included Sera’s curly black hair. I can only imagine what her neighbors thought as she arrived at their doorstep that Halloween. I can just imagine little Sera getting her candy and extending her hand out for an extra piece while singing, “Hit me baby one more time,” or boldly singing, “Gimme more.”

Sure, we’ve all had bad Halloween costumes, but for that to be my wife’s only Halloween costume is a bit crazy. I knew there were several holidays considered to be “American,” but I didn’t realize Halloween was one.

When your wife grows up on the other side of the world, the spookiest holiday of the year apparently doesn’t make the calendar too often. I’m sure the concept of going out during the night was a bit toxic in several of the places she lived, so I’m impressed her family embraced the tradition for her year growing up in Dubuque, Iowa. Now in adulthood, we find ourselves dreading the holiday. Please don’t hold it against me.

Costumes? We’re not clever enough for something hilarious, and we’re too practical to spend money on legitimate costumes. At this point the cool high school kids have raided the thrift shops, meaning we’ll be sorting through our own closets to piece something together.

At least there is a ton of candy, right? That’s the whole redeeming part of the holiday, and, unfortunately, we probably won’t be getting any. Too old to trick or treat, too young to sneak candy out of the kids’ plastic pumpkins. What’s the point? We’ll buy a bag for neighborhood kids and be stingy with distribution so there’s a chance there will be some left over for us.

After all, the kids in this neighborhood charged me $2 for a “homemade” cookie a few weeks ago at their lemonade stand. They don’t deserve much candy when they’re taking my money for baked goods clearly from Hy-Vee.

I do think the heart of Halloween is good. It brings the community together for boys and girls to use their imagination, explore their neighborhood and get rewarded for being different for a day. These are all very admirable traits, and if we’re lucky, they aren’t lost at the expense of having the best costume and getting the most candy. Children seem so overprotected in this generation, and I like the idea of encouraging adventure and having them do something outside of the house.

Of course I’ve not yet addressed the spooky aspect of Halloween. Don’t hold it against me, but there’s a good explanation for its absence. I prefer it that way. I generally hate being scared. Thrill seeking, adrenaline pumping personalities might love the rush from a haunted house, but not me. I don’t scare easily, nor do I get enjoyment out of the feelings of nervousness and suspense.

This results in a very calm response and awkward smiles while I’m led through whatever the nearby haunted house is putting on this year. When I am genuinely surprised and scared, I get angry. Nobody wants to be angry on a holiday. Sera prefers to respond to scary situations with high pitched shrieks and tight squeezes of whatever is closest to her (that’s often me). Neither my ears nor my arms appreciate her reactions, but it’s a small price to pay for your true love.

Yes, my true love has to live the rest of her life knowing she went as Britney Spears for her only childhood Halloween, but that doesn’t make her a criminal. We all make poor choices, especially in those pre-teen years where she wasn’t quite a girl, and not yet a woman.

This year there’ll be several girls following Sera’s footsteps by dressing up as pop stars that they don’t resemble in the slightest, but that’s the brilliant part of Halloween; sometimes you don’t have to be yourself. When it doesn’t go well, just make sure you aren’t later saying, “Oops, I did it again.”

 

Rochester resident Matt Knutson is the communications and events director for United Way of Olmsted County.