Italian Halloween

When I was a little girl, Halloween was a special time. The opportunity to dress up and roam the neighbourhood to secure more candy than you ever saw at one time was irresistible.

But Halloween was also a strange time for me because I was the child of Italian immigrants and there’s no such thing as Halloween in Italy.

The first issue was the costume. Well what was the sense in spending money on something that couldn’t be worn in public except for that one night? My sensible mother solved the problem by deciding I would dress up as a housewife. Or at least a caricature of a housewife. She’d put a scarf on my head, an apron around my waist and to ensure that people understood I was dressed as an adult, she’d apply her lipstick to my childish lips. My mother wore Electric Red lipstick in those days and I can remember it would take days for the colour to wash off.

There is, of course, a candy protocol for Halloween. Children expect to receive candies, chocolate or perhaps exotic items like candy apples which children on TV always seemed to get. No one told the Italians in my neighbourhood about the candy protocol, so they invented their own. You got peanuts in the shell, walnuts, Italian cookies, loose popcorn and sometimes pennies. My dad loved the Italian candy protocol and he usually ate most of what I brought home, but I think he should have worked for it like I did.

Italians also didn’t understand the concept of giving the candies at the door. With Italians you were required to parade into their kitchen while various relatives sat around loudly talking, drinking wine and laughing, until you wondered what you were auditioning for.

My biggest regret at Halloween though was the pillowcase, or for me, that lack of one. There was no way my mother was going to allow one of her pillowcases to be paraded around the neighbourhood gathering treats. Inevitably I’d be given a paper shopping bag and sent out into the night. Every year I’d dread those last 15 minutes when the rain would finally soak through my bag and spill the contents onto the sidewalk. I’d pick up what I could, place it in my apron and scurry home.

I think someone really needed to explain Halloween to the Italians.