Midnight Smack BY FU

Keeping them alive is another story.

and.. does a sequel ever lives up to the original.

Halloween Express opened a couple of weeks ago. It’s decent enough, but the better one is SPIRIT Halloween.

I’m not sure where it will land this year because I think the old furniture store out by Target South is filled. I’m heading to Lowe’s after work. I’ll let you know what I find out.

I can tell you now. It wasn’t there.

But boy, did I love a Halloween store. Well, actually, I still do. It always gets me into the spirit.

Back in the day, I was known for my haunted houses, and the props out there were slim pickings.

There was some sort of paper warehouse party store at Northgate, in the mid 90s. They carried a few props and masks every year. My kids were stuck in a cart for hours, near tears, while I combed the shelves.

I bought one of my first props there—a battery-operated moving hand—and it was probably the most frightening thing in my house.

Speaking of kids crying, my youngest dreaded, absolutely dreaded, getting out of bed the morning before Halloween. Even in broad daylight, he ran as fast as he could past the haunted part of the house, dodging “bone heads” (his phrase) the whole way.

Well… he is my sensitive one.

Sorry kid, I loved scaring the neighbor kids.

I fell deep into eBay looking for anything and everything and eventually acquired quite a collection. There were forums on how to build moving props and where to acquire the best skeletons. Remember, Menards had nothing back then.

Though honestly, my house full of antiques was the perfect backdrop.

Even today, when I open the door with no costume and no decorations, kids peer inside and ask if my house is haunted.

They have no idea that twenty years earlier I would have invited them in.

My favorite kid to scare was an 11-year-old boy who always acted so nonchalant and cool. By the end of the visit, he’d be pushing his way toward the door, knocking over five-year-olds to get out.

Then there were the dads who laughed and really gave my haunting confidence a boost. Some loved it so much they came through more than once.

And no one seemed to notice that the witch in the corner was just a broom wrapped in black trash bags with a mask teetering on top

Each year we went a little bigger. And JZ was always game for the ride.

Year one was the best, though.

We took the leaves out of our dining room table, and I cut apart a plastic tray so it would fit around JZ’s neck. He crawled under the table, I arranged the tray and filled it with candy.

When the kids arrived, they saw a haunted table with a couple of skeletons seated there and a tray of candy with some weird head in the middle of it all. When I invited the kids to take a piece, the head woke up. And asked for the candy back.

JZ had positioned a mirror under the table so it reflected the carpet. It was a pretty fine illusion.

I had several dropping spiders and a ghost at the top of the stairs named Lenore. I instructed every kid that they MUST bid her farewell or she might follow them home. That part came with a leering grin from me, showing off my very realistic vampire teeth.

Ah, those were the days.

And JZ would like nothing more than to resurrect the whole thing. He wants the grandkids to see it in all its glory.

But I’m just not that into the spirit anymore.

Which is funny, because I’ve been thinking about that word.

Spirit.

You can have it. Lose it. Get into it. Be full of it. Lift someone’s. Break someone’s. Show some. Summon one. Drink one.

I guess somewhere along the way, maybe I lost a little of my Halloween spirit?

I’m not sad about it. I don’t particularly want it back. I think.

As time marches on, some things you absolutely loved fall to the side. You just quietly stop loving them quite so much.

And trying to resurrect the best thing ever seems like an invitation for disappointment. I’d rather remember those haunted houses when they—and I—were in our haunting prime.

But other spirits?

Those, for the most part, I am interested in.

I have a significant class reunion coming up. Am I going? Yes. Somewhat begrudgingly, not gonna lie.

I had about four friends in high school, and the last time I attended a reunion, everyone except those four thought they graduated with JZ.

I guess not having a letter jacket or a set of pom-poms didn’t do much for my school spirit. Or my popularity.

But I’ll summon up some of that good old school spirit and report back.

But, there’s Food Union.

I open the door every morning with plenty of spirit. The spirit of finding something ridiculous that I absolutely have to carry. The spirit of putting two things together that shouldn’t work and finding out they do. And speaking of spirits, the nonalcoholic kind have become pretty damn good. Not to mention interesting. I think I just hit on some NA wine that’s, well… good!

Then there’s Christmas spirit.

Which, quite honestly, has never really been my thing.

But that has ramped up a bit since opening Food Union. It’s so busy, which makes it so much fun. I’m packing gift boxes, talking gifts, wondering why I haven’t eaten lunch until 4:30—or at all.

And loving every minute of it. It puts me in very high spirits.

Maybe that’s where all my Halloween spirit went?

Christmas?

NAH.

My heart still belongs to Halloween.

Maybe it’s time to summon up a few spirits.

But no, JZ, I’m not hauling out all that Halloween stuff.

If today’s kids weren’t scared of a garbage-bag-wrapped broom, my spirit would be crushed forever.