Is Halloween becoming an historical footnote?

As much as kids everywhere look forward to All-Hallows Eve, we’re faced with a sad reality. Halloween as we know it is doomed.

Once upon a time it held sway over our imaginations and provoked an instinct buried deep within our limbic system that was at once unsettling and fantastic.

There was a duality to it that was inspirational and dreadful, rich in symbolic power that was wonderful in some ways and menacing in others.

Long ago, All-Hallows Eve was a transitional time known by the ancient Druids as Samhain. It marked the end of summer and the beginning of winter, or the dark half of the year.

The day before Samhain was considered to be the last day of summer; the day after, the first day of winter. In-between, in a time where time didn’t matter, chaos reigned.

The veil between the worlds of the living and the dead were made as wisps by some infamous necromancy and magic overruled the natural order. Spirits could walk among us and it was possible to contact the departed during this special time of communion between living and departed souls.

Feasts were held and spots saved at table for those who had passed on. There was a sense of reverence as much as undeniable dread, for who knew what unknown power or presence would take advantage of such a singular opportunity to return from the ether.

Later, iconic symbols such as the black cat, jack-o-lantern, witches, goblins and ghosts came to represent and temper the ancient traditions and we as a society achieved a benign balance between the past and the present.

I’m sure some organizations somewhere on this planet still hold to the old ways and mark Halloween as the Druids did centuries ago. But the night as we know it didn’t really come into vogue in North America until the 1950s when the retail sector grabbed hold of it, costumes were mass-produced and kids throughout Canada and the U.S. went door-to-door trick or treating.

From that time on, the magic of Halloween has experienced dissolution. Perhaps the notion was fresh enough in the popular consciousness that I, as an impressionable young lad, was struck by the mystery of it as much as the certainty that I could get free candy. What could be cooler than that?

From the moment I’d leave my home to the time I returned to dump my treat bag, there was a condition of plausibility. Ghosts could very well be about and if I didn’t stick to the sidewalk and keep my wits, I’d have a spirit by my side.

It’s not that way anymore. Urban legends about poison apples have metamorphosed into reality and most parents these days approach Halloween with legitimate apprehension.

Fewer kids nip through neighbourhoods because it’s no longer safe to do so. Halloween house parties and safe Halloween initiatives like that at the County Fair Mall -- where kids go from retailer-to-retailer treating in a well-lit, public environment -- constitute the future.

I don’t deny the value of such endeavour. Too many people take advantage of Halloween in a negative way to argue otherwise.

Still, a part of me appreciates the magic of possibility. Of course, I have no idea if the veil is lifted temporarily.

All I know is how the concept of All-Hallows Eve used to inspire me to think outside the realm of this everyday existence for at least one night and consider the prospect of worlds within worlds.

No more. Halloween now is literally a grab bag driven by a retail industry that’s moving more and more toward marketing Christmas in September. As the latter continues to overwhelm the former, I expect Halloween will be little more than an historical footnote.

Guys like me will write about it, people will remember it in a once-upon-a-time way and marketing mavens will dictate our social and economic behaviour.

Empiricism and the almighty buck will gobble up the tradition as surely as consumers will be conned into celebrating the Christmas retail season as early as Labour Day.

It’s a shame when practicality trumps possibility, and a necessary evil, too, since Halloween is no longer just for or about kids.