I sleep with the light on.
When it comes to most Halloween things, I’m a wimp. Ghosts and ghouls give me nightmares.
Halloween costumes are slightly traumatic too. When I was a kid in Niskayuna, New York – a town so far north, summer was just a quick thaw – I had to wear my winter coat over my costume. This was years ago, before global warming. The snows came early to Niskayuna.
It was demoralizing to have to explain my costume to every candy-giver. They couldn’t see that I was a tiger, which would have been obvious without my parka.
This went on for years because my mother bought the costume and the parka three sizes too big, so I would “grow into” them.
Those candy-giving strangers made me nervous. I’d been told they might be trying to kill me by offering an apple with a razor blade in it. I never learned what their apple-tampering-child-murdering motives were. Nor was I ever given an apple, tampered with or otherwise.
I was always on the lookout though. Every ordinary bowl of candy was a relief – even if that candy was the dreaded Necco wafers.
At the age of 8, I was afraid of everything: tetanus induced lockjaw, “The Wizard of Oz” monkeys, killer bees from Mexico that I knew were heading straight to my house in Niskayuna. My only hope was they’d be stopped by the early snows.
Even the “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” cartoon disturbed me. Probably because Linus Van Pelt had to wait all night in the pumpkin patch for the Great Pumpkin. I wasn’t as brave as Linus and would’ve been too scared to spend the night in a pumpkin patch. I was too scared sleep at a friend’s house back then. I don’t like doing it now.
Mostly I was afraid of bugs and the dark.
As a child, I slept with a nightlight. On hot summer nights – the two per year in Niskayuna – I had to choose between fan-in-window/light-off to keep the bugs out, or no-fan/light-on to keep the boogey man out. I was willing to schvitz through the 78-degree Niskayuna heatwave, if it meant no visits by the boogey man.
Because of this column’s auspicious Halloween publication date, I’ve been thinking about what scares people. I did an informal survey by asking Mr. Hockey and the pucks in the family group chat.
One thing I like about our family group chat is they feel no pressure to respond to every text or post. Sure, the pucks will “heart” my picture of a home-grown cucumber. But Mr. Hockey and the pucks aren’t compelled to respond to all my queries. Even if it’s for my column, which is my job.
So, when I asked what scares them, I got nothing.
I completely understand. It’s fine. It’s not like I have a deadline or anything.
I do know some of the pucks’ fears. One is afraid of tsunamis. Another is scared a bridge will collapse while they’re driving on it. One puck is very frightened of “The Simpsons” character, Side Show Bob.
When I asked Mr. Hockey at dinner one night, he refused to discuss it. Facing your fears is scary.
A visiting hockey stick told me they’re afraid of mass shootings, aneurysms, merging on the highway, and splitting their pants at work.
I work from home, so splitting my pants wouldn’t be scary. But it would be depressing.
Other than the Side Show Bob fear, I understand my family’s trepidations. I’ve been plagued with these kinds of fears my whole life.
Back in Niskayuna, the older boys on my block called me a scaredy-cat. I still am. I’m a Scaredy-Cat Lady.
If Mr. Hockey is away, I’ll sleep with the bathroom light on. I no longer worry about killer bees, but I keep an eye out for murder hornets. And the upcoming election gives me the complete willies. I’m afraid Donald Trump and J.D. Vance will win.
I’m not scared for myself; I’m a white, affluent, upper-middle-aged woman who lives in the blue-state bubble of East Hampton. Nothing will happen to me.
But I am frightened for our country. The rhetoric Trump has been using isn’t political. It’s racist, menacing, and dangerous.
The recent statements Trump and Vance have made dehumanizing the Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, or calling Representatives Nancy Pelosi and Adam Schiff the “enemies within,” or refusing to acknowledge the results of the 2020 election, are terrifying.
I’m petrified when Trump jokes he’ll be a dictator on day one and suggests he’ll use the military against his enemies. Particularly since the Supreme Court has ruled that a President’s actions are immune from prosecution.
And I don’t even want to get into the alarming Project 2025.
What am I doing? Here I was trying to be funny about Halloween, and I’ve managed to give myself the heebie-jeebies. As the wise Lucy Van Pelt once said, “Ugh!”
I should be more like Linus who said, “There are three things I've learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin.”
But we need to face our fears. If Trump and Vance win, their nefarious measures will go unchecked. This is the stuff of my nightmares.
And all I can do about it is vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz and hope these nightmares don’t come true.
And maybe sleep with the light on tonight.
Published in The East Hampton Press on October 31, 2024
Photo ny Me!!
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