Halloween 2020 / Jens Carlson

An unexpected treat

The story of a little girl, a homemade costume and a surprising Halloween during the time of Covid-19

This wasn’t going to be a typical Halloween. We all knew this. The Covid-19 pandemic already upended the better part of 2020. Why should Halloween be any different?

So, naturally, I was apprehensive about anything akin to a traditional celebration. Especially with cases rising across the United States at alarming, if not record, rates.

I simply couldn’t visualize a “safe” trick-or-treating experience, as I conjured memories of Halloweens past: kids running breathlessly from door to door; the little tykes jostling for position on crowded porches; homeowners opening their front doors to strangers wearing masks – not those masks, of course; handfuls of candy passing from exposed hand to exposed hand; bowls of candy endlessly rummaged through by a multitude of tiny digits.

I could only imagine that this year those bowls would be equally effective in spreading Covid throughout the community as they would calories. Oy. Everything these days must be viewed through the lens of Covid-19. It is exhausting. It is annoying. It is heartbreaking.

Needless to say, I didn’t think Halloween was happening for us this year.

“That’s O.K.,” I said to my wife, Jenn. “We’ve been trick-or-treating before. We will go again. We’ll just take this year off.”

I don’t know how many times I tried to console our 5-year-old daughter or my wife or myself with those and similar sentiments. Hey, we are in the midst of a global pandemic! You gotta prioritize your activities. You don’t take unnecessary chances. You do what you gotta do.

Really, what is Halloween anyway? On the scale of Important Things in Life, dressing up for free candy seems, let’s be honest, rather frivolous. Our current reality is of social distancing and masks in public and kindergarten from an iPad. We’ve had family members and friends contract Covid. Some still are dealing with related symptoms months later. So, yeah, we told ourselves, it’s O.K. to skip trick-or-treating for one year as we focus our attention on “greater” concerns.

It still sucked. My wife knew it. Our kid knew it. And, yeah, I knew it, too.

But here’s a beautiful thing about life. Sometimes you just don’t know what it has in store for you. Sometimes, despite everything that points to the contrary, life presents something truly special.

Hold on a minute. I’m getting ahead of myself. We need to go back a couple months. Before the fires here out West and the off-the-charts dangerous air quality alerts. Before this strange and challenging year of online school even began. Our Jazzy was preparing for Halloween.

Jazmyhn is naturally crafty in a way neither I nor her mother can match. I mean, we can do it, but we certainly don’t enjoy it as much as Jazzy. All summer she was making various pieces of “clothing” out of paper. She’d see a picture of a particularly pretty dress and want to make it herself. She’d continually pause her My Little Pony shows and start copying from the screen anything that caught her inner fashionista eye. So, when Jazzy started in August creating her Halloween costume out of an assortment of printer paper, construction paper and tape – lots of tape! – we didn’t take too much notice. Sure, we oohed and ahhed whenever she shared her latest update. We encouraged her whenever she wanted some time to work on her project. But I can’t say either Jenn or I kept up diligently on the intricacies of her progress.

So, basically, she had free reign to do whatever she saw fit to do. She was free to let her imagination wander. She was free to create. And create she did. Jazzy would work on her costume a bit here, a bit there. Occasionally, she’d come up to one of us to help her with a fitting. We’d dutifully follow her directions as she measured and inspected, figuring out what worked and what didn’t. She never asked for any other help. The few times we offered suggestions, she was just as likely to explain how that wouldn’t work as she was to say, “Oh, sure! That’s a really good idea.” (With her little girl lisp, it came out as: “Oh, sowerh! Dat’s a wiwwy gud ideeah.” Heart. Melt.)

She taped together pieces of paper to wrap around her torso. She cut out slots for her neck and arms. She then taped together pieces of florescent construction paper and wrapped those around her mid-section. The two paper wraps were then attached with, you guessed it, more tape. Then she started decorating her creation, adding bits of flair everywhere. She drew a pumpkin on a separate sheet of paper, cut it out and glued it to the side of her costume. She cut up another sheet of paper into long strips, and then painstakingly colored each with a different shade of marker. These, too, were glued to the outfit, spaced ever so carefully to cascade vertically down the front of the paper dress.

The project took weeks. Admittedly, I thought she might lose interest at some point. I especially expected the outfit was long forgotten by the time we got through the horrible forest fires and ensuing hazardous air quality of September. But once October rolled around, she was back at it. A collage of small seashells appeared. She then added straps of paper to go over her shoulders – taped in place, of course – to keep the outfit from falling down. She never let us fully inspect her work in total during this time. But we could tell it was coming together rather nicely.

However, as Halloween neared, it was becoming more and more obvious that we weren’t going to take an active part in any public celebration. The Covid-19 numbers weren’t getting any better. Why risk it? We would punt on 2020, and hope for a better 2021. As we were embracing this unfortunate reality, Jenn and I reminisced on Halloween 2019. We thought about trick-or-treating in Michigan during a snowstorm, trundling a bundled up little girl from door to door, and how surreal an experience it was. The snow was thick and wet. Our hands and faces were cold. Jazzy’s costume was covered by layers of winter wear. (I’m pretty sure she went as a Disney princess. But I’m not certain.) The people in the last dozen or so houses we visited that night clearly felt sympathy for us, giving out handfuls of candy and offering condolences for the inclement weather. It was crazy and fun. It also was very surreal. We figured not participating at all this year would be even more so.

Then on Halloween day Jazzy unveiled the final touches to her masterpiece. She had cut out and colored wings of paper and taped them to the back. Then she presented the piece de resistance, a cutout of a heart from glittery fabric sent to her by her grandmother. It was placed at the very front, like a shield of pure love that simply emanated joy. She had fashioned a firefly costume. This creation, in a word, was magical.

As Jazzy strutted around the house beaming in her livery, we knew we couldn’t keep this revelation to ourselves. We had to share. We had to do something special.

After taking a few photos in front of the Halloween decorations adorning our apartment… and balcony… and front door, we got into the car and headed to Jenn’s co-worker’s place. Emily and her boyfriend were celebrating a very socially distanced Halloween, planning to hand out little gift bags to the few trick-or-treaters who might happen by. It seemed like just the thing. They were on the other side of town, but the distance made it seem more like an event. So up and over the hill we went from one side of Portland to the other.

A half hour or so later, we were making our way through an East Side PDX neighborhood, keeping our eyes out for signs of Halloween spirit. We were running early and puttering along. So, when I spotted a small tree with bags of candy hanging from it by string and a small sign in the yard that said, “Take One,” I pulled over and parked. We helped Jazzy don her costume, affixed the straps with extra tape, then walked up to the tree. The homeowners were not around. We had their small front yard to ourselves. Jazzy selected a bag, gave it a good pull, and voilà we had ourselves the year’s first true Halloween experience.

This little act was like a salve to our Covid anxiety. Walking back to the car, we felt the calm of the day. The sun was out, the temps were in the low 60s and most of the deciduous trees were clinging to their fall color brilliance. It was a gorgeous day. It was peaceful. It was inviting. We decided to walk the last 10 blocks or so to Emily’s house.

It wasn’t quite 5 p.m., so if there were going to be any trick-or-treaters out that evening, we saw no sign. And that was fine by us. We were just enjoying the walk, the fresh air and spotting any signs of the holiday. Jazzy was skipping along merrily, holding our hands as we crossed streets and waving a friendly hello to the few people we came across. A few commented on her outfit, to her ultimate pleasure. They wouldn’t be the last of the night to do so.

Going to Emily’s proved to be a great call. (Nice work mom!) We brought a couple jars of the jam we’d made that Summer of Covid and gave them to her. In turn, she plied Jazzy with a wonderful bounty. There was candy. There were Halloween trinkets. There was even a little ghost stuffy that Jazzy immediately fell in love with. We were all masked up. We stayed socially distanced. It certainly was different from Halloweens past. But we couldn’t have asked for more. It was special to touch a semblance of normalcy. We didn’t want that connection to end. This second application of Covid-19 anxiety salve was better than the first, as it reached deeper into our pores.

Emily mentioned others in her neighborhood were planning to mark Halloween in socially distanced ways. She wasn’t exactly sure what we’d encounter. Neither did we. But we were game for extending our walk. If we came across anything that made us feel uncomfortable, we simply wouldn’t engage. So, we took to the sidewalk with open minds and lifted hearts.

What we experienced the rest of that night was nothing less than spectacular. My eyes well up even now as I recall what transpired. (I’m not crying. You’ll be crying!) It felt like we were touching the essence of the goodness in humanity. Especially during this Year of Covid and lockdowns. Especially during a charged political environment, just days before what was sure to be a contentious election. Especially during this time of climate change when massive forest fires and choking smoke turned wide swaths of the West into a hellish landscape just a few weeks prior. We were bathing in the cleansing salve, and it was good.

We were early for a normal trick-or-treating quest. But we were right on time for Halloween 2020. As we strolled along, we happened upon more trees with bags of candy hanging from them. Other residences featured tables set up in driveways with bags of candy. We greeted each display with joy and helped ourselves to the various offerings with thanks. The few people we came across were overjoyed to see us. “You’re the first trick-or-treaters I’ve had!” exclaimed one lady. “Oh, it’s so good to see you out,” said another.

They spoke sincerely, these strangers we’d never meet, living in a neighborhood that was not our own. At that point, we knew we were not only welcome, but we were part of the healing salve for them. It was an amazingly positive symbiotic relationship. They gave us candy and welcome. We gave them Jazzy and her positive energy and her awesome homemade costume. We gave each other a sense of community, a brief return to normalcy and cascading waves of thanks. These positive vibes lasted the entire night.

Strolling from one street to another, we actually were surprised by how many residences took part in the holiday. Truly, the number of trick-or-treaters had to be well below normal. Same goes for the number of houses sporting decorations. However, for those who participated, it no doubt was that much more special. Every carved pumpkin, every giant spider glaring at us from a faux web, every skeleton graveyard, they all seemed bold rebukes of the sacrifices we’ve all had to make during the time of Covid. Like a witch on a broomstick cackling at the wind, each act of Halloween seemed to shout: “We do what we must. But we will not stop what we do.” It was heartening.

The ways in which candy was handed out was equally inspiring. I hope some of these ingenious conveyors continue in perpetuity:

--There were more candy trees and decked out table displays of treat bags, like the ones we came across in the beginning.

--There was an assortment of candy shoots, employing varying lengths of PVC pipe depositing candy into awaiting candy receptacles.

--There was a Rube Goldberg contraption that spit out full candy bars.

--One individual had a toy train attached to a string. She’d fill up one of the cars and slowly lower the train down a ramshackle wooden track that ran from her porch down a few steps to the sidewalk below.

--Near the end of the evening, we even came across a family handing out candy parade style. Dad was up front behind the wheel of a massive Ford truck. The kids were perched on a 20-foot trailer decked out with hay bales throwing gobs of candy out to children on the sidewalks. Mom was walking behind, directing the candy hurlers and making sure nobody tumbled out.

It was brilliant.

Those that handed out candy didn’t skimp either. Jazzy was carrying around her Easter Duck basket and filled it easily and rapidly. (It’s actually a yellow felt tote bag in the shape of a baby chicken. One of us named it the Easter Duck when it came into our family years ago, and the name stuck.) Midway through the night I surreptitiously started filling all my pockets with bags of candy. And I mean all my pockets. I’m a dad. So, naturally, I was wearing cargo shorts and a jacket. All eight pockets I was rockin’ and the inner lining of my jacket were stuffed with stuff by the end of the night. Neither Jenn nor Jazz picked up on my subterfuge. Though, at one point, Jenn exclaimed surprise at how much candy Easter Duck could hold. (Sneaky dad!)

The night was festive and gratifying. People were appreciative and happy. We soaked in the reverie. And to top it all off, Jazzy in her costume was the belle of the ball. Without. A. Doubt. People first marveled at her costume. Then they marveled at her. She took complements in stride, often handing out some of her own. She was gracious to their fawning. She made friends in an instant. It was a spectacle to behold. It went on that way all night long. Our little firefly, gliding along, leaving joy and smiles behind in her wake.

Throughout the evening, we encountered person after person who seemed just happy to talk to another human. One lady chatted us up and kept asking questions in a way that intimated: “Don’t leave me just yet!” We saw multiple pairs of neighbors sitting in lawn chairs, set up on their respective lawns at least six feet apart, adult beverages at their side, watching the action of their neighborhood reborn – at least for one eve – with energy and life. There were gatherings of masked-up friends. There were soloists holding vigil alone on their porches. Only once did we come across a porch overrun with fellow trick-or-treaters. We simply walked across the street, waited for the crowd to disperse and then took our turn. A full moon eventually rose large and seemed the perfect travelling companion; the perfect witness to the good tidings we shared. And to think… when we woke that morn, we knew we weren’t going to celebrate a traditional Halloween with a traditional round of trick-or-treating. Simply amazing. We ended up walking around for more than three hours.

When we finally made it all the way back to the car, we took one extra walk around the block. Jazzy was pooped by that point, but the firefly costume remained no worse for wear. Maybe her parents were pooped, too. But we didn’t feel it yet. The night was clear, the moon was full and our hearts were contented. It was the most special Halloween I’d ever experienced. Jenn agreed. And so did Jazz.

In the midst of a pandemic… At the height of the political divide in the country… Life still found a way to provide such a memorable and positive moment. May we all be so lucky to enjoy days such as these, and appreciate the many more yet to come.

Cheers.

Jens Carlson

Nov. 2020