Guising

Back in the day, when Halloween night rolled around, Scots children would go out 'guising'. I’m told the word ‘guising’ is very similar to the German word for 'ghost' and suspect that’s no coincidence. All evening long, ghosts, goblins and other scary creatures could be seen roaming the streets in search of goodies. Neighbors would open their homes to guisers and invite them to partake in such delicacies as lemonade, shortbread, treacle pancakes and black bun. (No, I’m not sure what black bun is either – some kind of suet based cake, I think.) However, and this is important, unlike trick-or-treaters, guisers had to perform for their sweets. Sing a song, tell a joke, do a dance; something.

Although I was born in Scotland, I grew up in the North of England where Britain’s ancient pagan traditions held less sway and Halloween wasn’t much of an occasion. Our big event came less than a week later on November 5th, 'Bonfire Night', or in actuality, the night before when following tradition, we wired car bumpers together, liberated garden gates and performed all kinds of other devilry that my parents don’t need to read about here.

But even in Scotland, guising was already dying out by the time I was in my formative years. Public paranoia over the issue of child safety meant parents were less enthusiastic about their un-chaperoned kiddies entering the homes of strangers. Likewise, strangers were increasingly reluctant to open their homes to un-chaperoned kiddies. That was sad enough, but to make matters worse, Britain’s youth discovered the American custom of trick-or-treating.

What’s wrong with that? I hear my American readers asking. We all grew up with trick-or-treating and it’s a charming tradition. Little kids dressed as pirates and bumble bees and whatnot, leading their parents up garden paths towards porches decorated with pumpkins and fake cobwebs where cheerful homeowners are ready to dispense vast amounts of candy. It’s heartwarming – how could you be opposed to that?

Well, because British kids never really got into the spirit of trick or treating. What we had there was a formed of legalized extortion with a sentiment along the lines of

"Give us something good or we’ll make you sorry."

I have to tell you it was quite alarming to open the front door and find oneself confronted with five or six thuggish looking delinquents, some of them larger than me but non in costume of any sort who demanded a reward in exchange for not breaking your windows or something equally unpleasant.

Worst of all this transition took place at a time when I was too old to partake but as a homeowner, was instead on the receiving end. Where’s the justice in that? No, I learned quite early on that the best way to handle Halloween was to switch off all the lights, and hide in the bedroom until it was over.

Which is what I did on my first Halloween as an American resident. We were still in Phoenix at the time although Dear Wife was out of town and I had no intention of navigating the minefield of an unfamiliar tradition by myself. As a newly married man, I had no money to go out for the night so I turned out all the lights which could be seen from the street and sat on the bed with the television turned low.

Somebody rang the doorbell anyway which sent the dogs into paroxysms of rage at this breach of etiquette but I steadfastly refused to reveal my presence. Although I did sneak to the spare bedroom for a peek out the window where I was heartbroken to see a little fairy tale princess, who couldn’t have been more than about 5 years old, traipsing disconsolately down the drive towards her Dad. I felt like the biggest scrooge on the planet and had to resist the urge to run after her shouting

"Wait! I don’t have any candy but here’s some uh, canned tuna!"

In subsequent years I got more into the spirit of the thing and invested huge amounts of dosh on candy to dispense to the little monsters that appeared every few minutes at the door. One year in particular I apparently overdid the largess as I realized upon opening the door to the same group for the fourth or fifth time.

"You’re the only one who has any candy left" they told me matter of factly.

I always tended to be somewhat paranoid about running out of candy. The prospect of cleaning raw egg off the garage door, or unwrapping toilet paper from the organ pipe cactus in the front yard held little appeal, and I was much more wary of the later arrivals. As the evening wore on, the innocent little toddlers were replaced by hockey-masked serial killers and corpse brides. Things got worse still as the nine O’clock hour approached.

Although our suburb could appropriately be classified as “white bread”, we bordered on a less salubrious neighborhood. Around 8:30 or so, a convoy of mini-vans would appear, out of which tumbled an array of gang-bangers, hoodlums and L.A. Raider fans. Halloween doesn’t get much scarier than that. I’m pretty sure none of them were actually packing guns, but that didn’t stop me wondering what these future Guests of the State would consider a suitable ‘trick’ should I not complete my side of the bargain. I always made sure to keep some candy in reserve for the later arrivals.

Since moving to our little cabin, down a dirt road, miles from the nearest town, trick or treating has become something of a distant memory. There are no streetlights up here and most homes are on fairly large lots which makes traipsing from house to house less appealing. Most of the local schools now host "trunk or treat" events where the little darlings can gorge themselves senseless in a perfectly safe environment. I’m not exactly sure how the process works, but they sound like a splendid idea.

Still, we usually get two or three groups coming a-knocking over the course of the evening so I made sure to stop at the gas station on my way home to purchase a bag of Reese’s peanut buttercup miniatures. I put on the porch light, poured the treats into a bowl and sat back to wait. Not one single knock on the door. What a disappointment.

Have you ever tried Reese’s peanut buttercup miniatures? You should, they’re really good. Just don’t eat an entire bag by yourself.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be lying down.