I Still Cry on Halloween

I am a grown man who still cries on Halloween. It's not what you think. And it has nothing to do with fears, phobias or family tragedy. It has to do with maturity. I 'm getting ahead of myself.

I remember one Halloween in particular when I was nine or ten. It was at an age when I started developing a little pride and no longer would accept going trick or treating with a towel wrapped around my neck, going out as Superman. It didn't matter that I wasn't white. No one said a thing. Not momma, not my friends -some of who where white and some where Black- or the police officers we would see sometimes on the corners of the streets as we ran wild with candy fever. No one just didn't seem to care. No one that is except my Uncle Jesse. He cared so much, he made me cry.

Uncle Jesse lived in town and we would see him enough. He would come by and hang out and watch football on Sundays and momma would fix him ribs. You know, he was cool. So that night, as I was getting ready for trick or treat, Uncle Jesse shows up. Even at ten, I could see he was not himself, acting (and smelling) a little strange. Momma saw him come in and walked right up to him and let him have it! Something about being in public like that and so on!

Anyway, Uncle Jesse was a little pissed and he started cursing. And then he looked at me, "And you with your raggedy towels around your neck going out as Superman! Didn't anybody ever tell you you not white!" he slobbered. I felt I didn't know him at that time. "You look like a fool going out there like that. Who you going as this time Rocky? You want to punch out some Black boys!?" He went on. Momma showed him the door and he was out. But it was too late, the tears were rolling. I was hurt and confused and that knot was in my throat. And I cried on Halloween.

This time I was going as a vampire. I didn't get my make-up on yet (a lipstick for my face and plastic fangs for my mouth) and now, I just didn't want to go. Momma did all see could to comfort me but I was so hurt and confused -and ten years old!

Now as a grown man, I still cry on Halloween. Not every one. But often enough. As I said, now it is about maturity. Momma is gone now. She left way too early, but God had need of her. Boy do I miss her.

I think back on all those Halloweens when I went as Superman. You see, I never did like Superman. It really was momma's idea. And as I got older I realized she did the best she could. We were poor. Momma really had nothing but us three snotty nosed kids. I was the baby. Daddy left when-who knows when. A cape, made from a towel was the best she could do- three years in a row. And when I think about it now-I cry. And that is why, I still cry, on Halloween!