Spring Break
Oh, how Halloween has changed with time, now what's it about?
Emily Hemson
Issue date: 10/26/07 Section: Forum
In third grade I dressed as Bill Clinton for Halloween.
Apparently, at 9 years old I had already established firm political beliefs I felt like imposing on the general public.
It was election year; my best friend adorned a blonde wig, and together we darted around my neighborhood, spreading politics and hungering for candy.
When doors were opened, along with the traditional "trick or treat" greeting, I would hold out my hand and, in the most masculine voice I could muster, utter the words, "Vote for me!"
I got really into it, until my greed sent me up the driveway of a house with a Bob Dole sign firmly pressed into the lawn.
The door opened, and probably much to this man's dismay, stood 9 year old versions of Bill and Hillary.
"Trick or treat!" we said, and right before he was able to put candy in my bucket I whipped out my signature move.
"Vote for me!" I announced with my hand sternly outstretched.
He stood, looked at me, and very clearly replied, "I'm not going to do that."
He did not even shake my hand. Instead, he merely placed the candy in my bucket and closed the door. Little did he realize what he just did to this poor 9 year old. A 9 year old who naively thought politics and Halloween could create a beautiful union.
I left his house dismayed, and proceeded to stuff my face full of candy in order to regain my political faith.
Needless to say, the following year I dressed as an M&M.
When I got to college, however, everything changed. I had heard of this beforehand, I now lived in a Halloween world that lacked both candy and excessive amounts of fabric. This was exciting. We were adults, we were 18 - which meant on this final day in October we were allowed to tastelessly sport minimum clothing, and not feel like sluts doing it.
While previous years I had spent hours debating what I would dress as for the occasion, this particular year I decided to wing it. My friends and I rallied together, and headed to the costume store.
Apparently, at 9 years old I had already established firm political beliefs I felt like imposing on the general public.
It was election year; my best friend adorned a blonde wig, and together we darted around my neighborhood, spreading politics and hungering for candy.
When doors were opened, along with the traditional "trick or treat" greeting, I would hold out my hand and, in the most masculine voice I could muster, utter the words, "Vote for me!"
I got really into it, until my greed sent me up the driveway of a house with a Bob Dole sign firmly pressed into the lawn.
The door opened, and probably much to this man's dismay, stood 9 year old versions of Bill and Hillary.
"Trick or treat!" we said, and right before he was able to put candy in my bucket I whipped out my signature move.
"Vote for me!" I announced with my hand sternly outstretched.
He stood, looked at me, and very clearly replied, "I'm not going to do that."
He did not even shake my hand. Instead, he merely placed the candy in my bucket and closed the door. Little did he realize what he just did to this poor 9 year old. A 9 year old who naively thought politics and Halloween could create a beautiful union.
I left his house dismayed, and proceeded to stuff my face full of candy in order to regain my political faith.
Needless to say, the following year I dressed as an M&M.
When I got to college, however, everything changed. I had heard of this beforehand, I now lived in a Halloween world that lacked both candy and excessive amounts of fabric. This was exciting. We were adults, we were 18 - which meant on this final day in October we were allowed to tastelessly sport minimum clothing, and not feel like sluts doing it.
While previous years I had spent hours debating what I would dress as for the occasion, this particular year I decided to wing it. My friends and I rallied together, and headed to the costume store.
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