Opinion: Halloween is the real end of summer

The reason is very simple, really: Nothing as spectacular as summer should fade away while kids party with their parents. It is also unthinkable that summer should end just because some silly date on a calendar says so. Summer should go out with a bang, with a day filled with big laughs, lots of yelling, and maybe even a fright or two to carry us through those long, dreary winter nights. The old Celts knew how to throw a goodbye bash for summer. Samhain was one of their principal fire festivals that marked the end of their year. It was a time to extinguish their fires, build one big bonfire, and relight their fires from it. Not very efficient, but it was a festival kind of thing. I am sure someone even sold smoked turkey legs. Europeans thought the end of summer was the time the spirits of their dearly departed came back for one last visit before winter. Today, we call that Thanksgiving, and what can be spookier than a house full of visiting in-laws. The Christians couldn't do Samhain, so they modified a few of the essential points and came up with All Saints’ Day, or All Hallow's Eve, depending on the day and the source. Someone I know suggested those early Christians may have even danced a bit, had a spot to drink, and wore disguises so their friends wouldn't know who was having a good time. He figured this is why we wear masks on Halloween. All I know is that this is the best time to say goodbye to summer and to bring back all those memories of joy in the sun. As I get older, however, my boyhood recollections are harder to find. That's OK, though, because now I can think back on the days of my youth. Or more correctly, my youths. My youths were the neighborhood boys who played away the summers with my older daughter nearly twenty years ago. Jacob, Noah and William. The Three Desperados. Each day would start with the impatient ringing of the doorbell. I would peek through the window and see the gentlemen callers, one standing on the steps, his companions pacing in circles in the driveway. Maybe I'm not such a good father. Would a good father give his daughter over to guys who wear camouflage, ride bikes and appear ready to declare, “We've come for your women!?” My daughter hung in there, though. In fact, I think she got the best of them most of the time, only the boys didn’t know it then. Take the time Jacob rang the bell to tell me with great indignation that Hill had made fun of Noah's bike. I had to explain to her that girls should not say bad things about a guy's ride, even if it is in fun. A day did not go by without some kind of disagreement. It was usually because a girl had invaded a part of the world reserved for boys by running through their hideout, uncovering their buried treasures, or violating the Bat Cave. No matter how mad they made each other, they always helped a fallen comrade. Like the day Noah ran into the house to tell us Hill had been “hurt bad!” She had fallen off her bike in the neighbor's driveway and skinned her knee. As we walked to the scene, Noah explained that Hill was attempting bicycle tricks when she fell. “She's not like us,” he informed me. “She's not a professional.” Then school began and the neighborhood got quiet. No more streaking children down the street. The chill set in and the kids turned to other things until spring returned with all of its promises. Halloween gives us one last chance to bring back the spirits of June, July, and August. It allows us the respectable opportunity to dress up in outrageous outfits, run around the neighborhood in the dark, and try to scare each other. And when we've taken all the night can give, we go to our homes to divide up our treats. Only then do some of us stop and smile a sad little smile, because we know another summer is finally over. But not forgotten.