It’s the third Monday in October, and I wish it would hurry up and be Halloween already. Physically, I’m sitting in a cute little cafe in my old neighborhood of Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. I’m delighted to report there are witch hats hanging from the ceiling, and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” is humming overhead. The white marble is frigid as the autumn wind waiting for me out on the street. For now, the comfort of my notebook keeps my bony wrist safe from the table’s chill.

Mentally, I’m sitting on my favorite bench atop a grassy hill in my favorite cemetery. That would be the historic Greenwood Cemetery. Like many wonderful friends in my life, it’s also a resident of Brooklyn. Words can’t begin to illustrate the 478 acres of natural beauty (nearly two centuries of history!) that lie within the iconic gates of this gothic wonder. You can’t help but feel small amidst the sprawling stones of Greenwood. It’s one of the most serene places I’ve ever been. In the busiest epicenter of chaos (I ❤️ NY) that’s extremely refreshing. It’s quiet. It’s gorgeous. And it’s one of my favorite places to reflect on life, loss, and just about everything in between. 

I always make a point to go visit the ole girl every time I pass through NYC. But aforementioned, the weather is absolute shit today. I don’t think I can swing it. Thankfully, imagination can work wonders. Greenwood hasn’t moved since 1838, so it’s safe to say I can visit next time I’m in town. For now, I’ll keep sitting here in this cute cafe, reflecting on how much I love Halloween!

Growing up, Halloween was a family affair. My brother and I spent the entire month of October scheming up intricate costume ideas. Relying on our parents to drive us around town to collect all the pieces, some years it came down to the wire. The thrill of the hunt was part of the fun. Even if it meant scouring every rack in Salvation Army for the perfect Napoleon Dynamite moon boots. Costume accuracy was always top priority for Billy and I. Most years, Michigan’s climate had already reached subarctic temperatures by Halloween. It didn’t matter. Rain, shine, snow, or gale force winds. We went out trick-or-treating, and we looked damn good under our winter coats.

My Halloween ritual was simple and consistent. In elementary school, we had the easiest of half days. A classroom party and school-wide parade was about it for the day. Sugared up and eager for the night’s festivities, I’d come home around noon and immediately fall asleep. My kid logic was to rest while I could. That’s actually still my adult logic. But at the time, it was my strategy to stay up even later on what was (without a doubt) the most fun night of the year. 

While I took my annual spooky slumber, a warm, buttery breeze filled the house. Mom was making her famous roasted pumpkin seeds. In the front yard, Billy and Dad were creating a haunted landscape for the flock of trick-or-treaters that would soon hit the suburb streets. By time I woke up and wandered outside, one of them was usually up on a ladder. The cobwebs had to be just right. By time the sun had set, most of my extended family was huddled around the kitchen table. After posing for some truly iconic photos in our biblically-accurate costumes, Billy and I were ready to rock. 

Each year, we set out with a pillowcase and a dream. Were there cuter options for collecting candy? Sure. But we were pros. Anything other than a pillowcase was child’s play. We also set out with an adult who loved us a whole lot—enough to brave the typically egregious weather right along with us. Most notably, my Uncles Mike and Dave. The four of us trotted around the neighborhood for hours each year, making several passes back home to empty our loot. Time was of the essence. We dumped everything on the floor of our bedrooms and got right back out there. 

The first Halloween after my uncle Mike passed away was remarkably tough. I was in 6th grade when we lost him. That year, I cried silent tears instead of taking my spooky siesta. I didn’t understand how I was supposed to go trick-or-treating without him. Uncle Mike had a remarkable way of making everything fun. Even the scariest houses on the block didn’t seem that bad—he was always there to keep me safe. He was always cracking jokes, too. A constant reminder that Halloween is supposed to be fun after all. 

That year, on the one day you can pretend to be anything you want, I pretended to be brave. Billy and I still went trick-or-treating. Although it was different, I think we both understood we’d be doing our legendary uncle Mike a disservice by staying inside and being sad all night. I like to think he’s the reason my brother and I still celebrate Halloween with the same wonder as when we were little kids.

After all the front porch lights went out for the night, Billy and I returned to our respective confectionery collections. I always organized my candy by color; a task I found equally fun and gratifying. If you know me at all nowadays…of course I did that as a kid.

The candles in our carved porch pumpkins dwindled into the night. I always tried my hardest to stay up late with my family of night owls. Even if it was a school night, we’d usually gather in the basement to watch a classic horror movie. I was probably too young the first time I watched John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978), but it remains my all-time favorite. I still watch it every year. 

As I get older, I find myself celebrating what I like to call “Cozy Halloween” more and more. Of course I still enjoy going all-in on an intricate costume and embracing other spooky traditions. This time of year, the living room will always be adorned with black lace. Pumpkins are on the porch. My Halloween tree is trimmed with tiny tombstones and orange leaves alike. For as long as I can remember, it’s been my favorite holiday. Reflecting on the wholesome Halloweens of my childhood, what I truly loved most was the warm, fuzzy feeling of returning home after a night out. 

This time of year, everyone’s entitled to one good scare. (I didn’t make that up. It’s a really famous quote, go watch Halloween, guys!) While there’s something truly thrilling about being terrified, the best part is the release of learning you’re okay afterwards. In my experience, that usually leads to laughter. For me, Halloween has always been one of the silliest times of year. Spooky, of course. But oh so silly.

My first celebrity impression was Sally’s rant from It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. Just a little chickadee at the time, my squeaky voice could hit the perfect pitch (“You Blockhead!”) to make my parents laugh without fail. 

One year, I carved a perfect square into the face of my pumpkin. It was abstract—my take on a window into the pumpkin’s soul. Right into the true heart of Halloween. That one made some eyes roll. But it really made my mom laugh!

My favorite costume was thrown together in less than an hour my senior year of high school. Relentlessly trying to keep the magic alive, I still couldn’t get any of my friends to go trick-or-treating. Billy drove home from college, I dressed up as a “Bag of Leaves,” and we ran around our childhood neighborhood into the wee hours of the night. Despite the wind, freezing rain, and probably being a little too old for all that…we still came home with some candy and even more laughs. I told you: we are hardcore.

Life is full of tricks and treats. In the end, whether it’s Halloween or not, I think it’s all about finding balance between the two. And having a little fun along the way. So happiest of Halloweens to you and yours! Stay safe. Stay spooky. And above all else, stay silly.