A Halloweenaphile?

 

I Google-searched recently to see if there's a word to describe someone like myself who is obsessed with all things Halloween. Unfortunately, according to Google's artificial intelligence assistant, there is no such word. That's too bad. There is a word for lover of the dead, which is necromonger, and for all things spooky, a spookaphile. I don't think I fit either.

For years, going to the Halloween in the Village event at Greenfield Village has been on my bucket list. Tickets always sell out in advance. This year I red-lettered the date when tickets would go on sale to the public. At the event's website, a countdown timer marked the days, hours and minutes until the fateful time I could go on-line to purchase my own tickets. I wanted five—one for me, one for my son Scott and three for my grandkids, Gwen and Owen, aged 7 and Davis, 5.

By the time tickets went on sale to the general public, members of the Henry Ford Museum, who could purchase advance tickets early, already bought out tickets for all the Saturdays in October. We're talking thousands of tickets too. I signed in to the website exactly at the appointed time, 9 a.m., but there were already over 50 in queue for tickets. I felt as if I were vying to a chance to see Taylor Swift in concert. But I did get my tickets for the second Friday in October which made me a happy camper.

When Friday, October 11^th came, I was delighted that the weather was pleasantly warm and only partly cloudy, good since we'd be arriving at sunset when autumn's chill can often puts a damper on outdoor activities. After giving my paper tickets to the clerk—I think I was the only one in line without digital tickets—we entered the village.

Once inside, it was magical: the storybook settings, the flickering lights, the medieval costumes of witches and vampires, the haunting music that filled the air . . . it was everything I imagined it would be. Jack-o'-lanterns lined the walkways, with over 1,000 hand-carved pumpkins filling the village including over 50 hanging from a tree that stood over 30 feet tall and a six-foot pyramid of pumpkins. Some pumpkin carving seemed the work of professionals including one in which my granddaughter Gwen recognized as Princess Peach from the Super Mario world, Gwen coincidentally dressed as Princess Peach herself. The images of Luigi and Mario were carved into separate pumpkins as well.

You won't find anything gory or too scary here. Our scariest encounter came when we witnessed the headless horseman chase Ichobod Crane, both on horseback, around haystacks in a farmer's field. I should note that adult guests can come costumed as well and one particular guest bore a dead-on resemblance to Michael Myers from the movie Halloween. He side-eyed me in a menacing manner as I passed. Another couple made me feel as if I were in a Turner Classic Movie from the 40s, he dressed in a wool suit with matching hat, she wearing a vintage cocktail dress with lapel collar.

The grands rode the 1913 vintage carousel with bobbing horses of wood, hand-carved and hand-painted. Also riding was an older man dressed and made-up like Beetlejuice from the movie. He even wore his trademark black and white broad-striped suit. Gwen met with fortune-teller Madame Zaza who predicted she would make many friends because she was a kind person. We passed Mother Goose who was reading the familiar children's book Room on a Broom.

Our final stop was Smiths Creek Station where we caught the Halloween Express, boarding open air train cars to be pulled around the park by a steam locomotive. We saw a wolfman, a train car full of ghosts who rose from their seats before sitting back down, and bigfoot almost hidden by trees in a wooded section. We also passed a bridge troll and the grim reaper who waved hello to us as we passed. At least I hope he was waving hello. The grim reaper waving goodbye would seem too ominous.

After the train ride, the village was beginning to close. On the way out, we passed the 'wizard of Oz', just a face projected onto a large screen, but who was able to communicate with passersby. She called out to the grandkids and suggested,” We should get a picture of your gang here.” She told them to turn around so their photo could capture the wizard n the background. Scott and the three grands dutifully turned their backs to the wizard.

“Not you dad,” the wizard said. “You need to take the picture.” So Scott took out his camera and got the picture with the three grandkids. I stuck my face in there as well. Then the wizard disappeared. It was an appropriate ending to our visit. I can scratch that from my bucket list. But that doesn't mean I won't be back. I'm a Halloween aficionado for life.