Hallowe'en Heritage –
10-30-2006,11:40 AM
Yesteerday we set up the "Cave" and the last of the props. Last night, while looking at the Laser-Beam Witch, my 7 year old daughter asked me what Hallowe'en was like when I was a little boy. I told her it wasn't much, just a bunch of brats running around wearing masks after dark. But her question got me thinking about the time I asked my Gramma the same thing almost 50 years ago.
My Gramma was a Gypsy, born in the Ukraine. As she rolled dough for perogies, she said they didn't have Trick or Treat, but they did have something called "All Holy Night", which fell on October 31. They would leave out sweets and cakes for the departed souls of their loved ones. She said she'd never forget the year her own Grandmother had died.
She was 8, the same age as me. The whole clan got all dressed up and made a big bonfire out by the road. Other families stood by the road ringing little bells and chanting, "Rise, the Dead." Her aunts and uncles sang and drank wine and told stories about the old lady. My Gramma fell asleep. But she woke up with her mother gently shaking her. "Annie. Wake up. Your Grandmother is here".
She could see her standing out on the road, in the shadows. She knew it was her right away from her posture, the way she stood there. Her uncles called to her to come closer, come enjoy the fire. She just shook her head. My Gramma could see that she had tears in her eyes. Gypsies had a sort of Sign Language that they used. They could communicate with one another even if they didn't have a spoken language in common. Using the Hand Language, my Great Great Grandmother t told them she loved them and that she missed them. She thanked them all for coming to see her one last time, but it was time for her to go. She turned and slowly walked back toward the cemetary.
You should have seen my Gramma's face as she told me that story.
Be proud of your heritage.
Wolfman
"Because a Child's mind is a Terrible Thing not to mess with."
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