What Are You Afraid Of?

Seems like a topical question, with All Hallows Eve approaching Monday. Halloween has always been one of my favorite semi-precious holidays. It's not in the Christmas category but it's better than VD (Valentine's Day.) There's not much more I like better than dressing up to be something I'm not (namely, ME) and getting paid IN CANDY to do it. When we were young my sister and I would make two trips on Halloween. As soon as dusk fell we schlepped our parents around the neighborhood until we physically could not carry our candy sacks any more. So we returned home, dumped it, (and Mom and Dad) and went back out again. The amount and variety of our take was epic. Always the anal-retentive type, one of my favorite activities was sorting my haul: chocolate in one pile. I saved that. Caramel in another. Fruity crap, that was what Dad was allowed to eat.

We had some wonderful costumes too, made by my mom. One year I was a court jester. I wore white tights with one leg that Mom had dyed blue. I had big blue plastic pompom buttons (like those cheerleader shaky things, only a little smaller) down the front of my felt costume and a pointed hat on top of my head. That was the year my sister poked herself in the eye with a stick just prior to Halloween. She had to go as a donkey for the second year in a row because it was the only costume that worked with the eye patch.

I continued the homemade costume tradition with our daughter, beginning with a lady bug outfit when she was just 6 months old. Some costumes she liked, others, not so much. I believe her favorite may have been when she was 9. The idea came directly from Sarah, and she would not be deterred; I was the one tasked with making her idea happen. I shopped the clearance fabric section and found the bright, sheer fabric and gold lame' pictured. I used a very simple pattern to make the skirt and then bought a mark-down bikini for the top, which I embellished with coin-and-bead trim. The headdress was just leftover fabric folded around a headband with more bead embellishments. We tossed in a tambourine and some finger-clackers and put golden flip flops on her feet. She sounded like a  percussion section as she sasheed down the street. We put floozy makeup on her eyes and lips, stuck a rhinestone in her belly button and then made sure we walked well behind her while trick-or-treating so no one would know we were her parents. I was afraid someone would contact an agency.

I'm kidding of course, but it does goes back to the original question: What are you afraid of? I think there is afraid. And then there is AFRAID. I am afraid of public speaking. Losing my little girl, for whatever reason, is a primal fear.

I am afraid to die. I am AFRAID to outlive my husband.

I am afraid to fail. I am AFRAID to lose the desire to try.

I am afraid to be financially ruined. I am AFRAID to have no one in my life who values me.

Surely being AFRAID serves some purpose. It is a survival instinct, after all, that keeps us from leaping off the precipice just to see what will happen. But it is a completely different animal to be afraid. Being afraid is what gnaws at us, pushes us forward, stirs those creative juices that cook up into the notion of a parasuit, and gives us the hoopspa to stand on that rock and take a leap of faith.

I still love to dress up and be transformed into something I'm not. I've been Glenda (the good witch) and Wilma Flintstone. I've been a wench to my husband's pirate. I've been the Bride of Frankenstein, (and winner of "Most Halloweeny"), Church Lady (won 3rd prize for that one.) Last year I was Bellatrix LaStrange. The laundry list of impersonations I've achieved reads like a Sinatra song: I've been a puppet, a  pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king....and I've loved being all those personalities, in one way or another.

So tomorrow evening, when the goblins come to your door looking for handouts, I hope you will consider what really scares you. Try not to be afraid to ask, and allow for the possibility that the best answer to the question is the question itself: "Now really. What am I afraid of?" Failure? That's life. And each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race. That's life. It ain't livin if you ain't driven. Even if you're headed the wrong way. At least you're going somewhere.

Happy Halloween everyone. And a very merry All Saints Day on Tuesday.