An Outrageous Parade

Here in San Francisco, Halloween is the most revered holiday, a ritual, hallowed feast day, if you will. With sightings of the costumed an almost everyday occurance,much attention is given to cleverly revealing one's "inner thespian." Yesterday, The sun gifted the Haight-Asbury, a bastion of vintage and thrift shops, as the tribes hunted for fabulosity. No boa was left unturned in the quest for the sanctioned, form of revelation.

It has been a curiosity of mine that Halloween has morphed into an adult holiday, the last decade or so. In my prehistoric youth, I was chastised by my mother for trick or treating at the advanced age of twelve. My subtle disguise behind my father's faded army jacket was reluctantly shed by 8:30 that night. No amount of Sugar Daddy lollipops or Milkyway bars could assuage the embarrassment and self examination brought to the surface that night. My face burned with shame (perversely not unlike being caught masturbating) at being berated for my exuberance of escaping my "normal" self if only for a few hours...


One could say that I have gleefully continued to don costumes (in one form or another) since then.My current obsession with movies and fashion from the twenties and thirties has manifested itself in my short bobbed, "Marcel Wave" haircut,vintage jewelry and clothing. In my head, I am Jean Harlow,"parading" (the virtues of such a pastime Ringo extolled in "A Hard Day's Night").Does this desire to don a facade point to a reluctance to acknowledge the real or to make real the imagined?

Certainly, the trend towards adult Halloween has mainly to do with money on the part of the "bigbox" companies and the many Halloween warehouses, set up mostly in abandoned storefronts. But, what I find fascinating is how society has condoned this new emphasis on expected, adult participation. Historically, major holidays have picked up bits and pieces of tradition from other celebrations,as Halloween is no exception.It is oddly exciting to me to be living through this change of emphasis. Does the horror of our world mired in wartime,hunger,poverty,neglect and abuse exhort us to play dress up?

Au Revoir, Toronto!

Four and a half years ago at 3:30 AM, I remembered how to laugh. In fact, I had never laughed so much in my entire life. There really wasn't much that was so funny. Rather, the website that I stumbled upon amused me with its outrageousness and eccentricity. Grown women from around the world had entered their thoughts (both carnal and sublime) about their devotion to Pete Townshend, an aging rock star- that I happened to be writing an article on. My research led me to the thread-"Whogirls Abound," which featured imagined hot tub parties, descriptions of band members' anatomy, and careful dissection of ancient concert footage. I was home! I felt fourteen again and giggled long into the morning...The next six months, I spent in a whirlwind of cyber gatherings,instant messages, and long phone calls all centered on the creative nerve of Mr. Townshend. My four children (2 grown, 2 youngsters) were vexed by my obsession and frustrated by my insistence on carving out time spent just on myself. My husband noticed a radical change in my clothing, which became tighter and more revealing as time went by. I grew my hair out and boldly added blond highlights. I spun wildly about the kitchen, dancing to rock music (not the Christian pop I had favored as of late). I acquired a large collection of silver rings and bracelets which were worn all at once. My joie de vivre that had been absent for so long after the death of my father was reawakened.

During this delicious repast, I received a message on my Whoboard commenting on a letter I had written to Pete that had been posted online. The author wanted to meet me, feeling a shared connection to the loss of a father and my backround in writing and education. I was elated that a stranger on the east coast of Canada had related to my recent musings. This was a bold realization to a housewife from suburban Northern California. Anne-Marie Macdonald shared my passion for writing, music and abandonment to joy. She encouraged me trust my creativity and venture out of the midlife bubble that had enveloped me. I was no longer afraid to fly (literally) out of my comfort zone and met her soon after. Our families bonded and over the years have shared vacations and celebrations, as well as comfort during tragedy and illness. At the cost of sounding trite, I really didn't realize that a friend could have such compassion and earnestness for me. From a website devoted to a rock band came the deepest bond and most powerful connection I've ever experienced with a woman friend.I have spent the past month with Anne-Marie accompanied by my youngest daughter who loves her like a mother... In six hours I will again board a plane back to my "other life" in San Francisco.