Judith Lacy's Jottings: Let's put a rocket under Halloween

Surely, in the midst of a global pandemic and climate crisis we don't need reminders of death, especially in the form of plastic two-headed dogs. Photo / Unsplash

OPINION:

I tell myself it arrived overnight and I'm not really a bad housekeeper. The story goes like this.

Once upon a time, on a dark and stormy night, every spider from Terrace End to Whakarongo descended on my house. These were the best web spinners in the land and as quickly as you can say Raid, a cobweb had appeared in the corner of the lounge sliding door.

My mother can spot a cobweb at 10 paces and her decobwebber of choice is a towel placed over a broom. Down, symbol of a slack housewife, down.

Yet, as October 31 nears cobwebs - fake ones no less, are appearing all over the land as retailers decorate their premises for Halloween. Pumpkins are lobotomised, witches are suddenly de rigueur and, horror of horrors, children are encouraged to knock on strangers' doors and ask for lollies.

Mum has a saying, mainly referring to gun violence: "It used to only happen in America, then Auckland but now it happens here."

Yet, we lap up the American Halloween. No, Halloween doesn't have its origins in the US of A but it seems that's where we get most of our Spooky Day influences from.

Halloween's origins date back to the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). This day marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year often associated with human death.

Surely, in the midst of a global pandemic and climate crisis we don't need reminders of death, especially in the form of plastic two-headed dogs and skull and bone necklaces not made in Aotearoa. Plus, it's spring, not autumn.

No sooner have I got over October 31, we're on to Guy Fawkes. I love fireworks as much as the next person but only on designated days and when they're set off by experts. Yes, I'm happy King James I was not assassinated or the English Houses of Parliament blown up all the way back in 1605. I'm not so happy James had ordered all Catholic priests to leave England.

In 2014, my then cat Bella Boy wrote a letter to the Manawatū Standard, with just a whisker of help from his mother. He said fireworks should only be allowed at Guy Fawkes and New Year's Eve yet people let them off whenever they feel like it, which sent him running to hide in the wardrobe.

When some Kiwis seem unable to identify where their noses are do we really want every Tom, Dick and Harriet given access to gunpowder to scare animals whenever they feel like it?

And the third event in this crazy trifecta at this time of the year is the Melbourne Cup. It's billed as the race that stops two nations yet it's the horses that can stop - forever.

Anthony Van Dyck died in last year's Melbourne Cup, the sixth horse to die in Australasia's most celebrated race in seven years. Do we really need to embrace an event that promotes drinking, gambling and wearing silly shoes and hats?

I really do sound like a wowser, but surely we're grown up enough now as a country to celebrate our own days and events. Thank goodness we have Matariki as a public holiday next year. By then, I might have removed the cobweb and will be more than happy to watch a public fireworks display.

And before you gather your pitchforks and ready the stocks in The Square, settle petals. I'm off to a cave for the next week as I know I'm in the minority.