Corpse Bride


"What do you want to be for Halloween this year, Rhiannon?" I asked one day in September.

The answer was instant (a rarity as one often has to ask things 2-3 times to get even a cursory reply): "A corpse bride."

Our little goth watched Tim Burton's 2005 animated classic, Corpse Bride, last year. Rhiannon loved it. She occasionally makes me play the roll of the hapless groom voiced by Johnny Depp as we go through our ghastly courtship. One of the cats is cast as his dead dog, Speck.

So Rhiannon got to work designing her own costume on her art board, lavishing details on the gold lamé skirt, blue top, blond fright wig, pink high-heeled shoes. Which of course looks everything like the picture above. But to Rhiannon, a corpse bride is basically one dead Disney princess. Probably Aurora.

We drove home from school together where she would change into her real costume. On the way she sang:

"Oooh. It's a scary night!
Oooh. It's Halloween night!
Don't let the ghost get you!
Don't let the campire get you!
Just go and run and get out of here
before they eat you and suck your blood
yeah, run! Go faster! Get out of here! Here they come!
But they're really pretend!
Yeah, they're not so scary and they're just dressed up
'cuz it's Halloween!"

On Halloween night, as the sun set, she dressed in her actual corpse bride costume (well, most of it, pictures to follow once they are developed): Black velveteen dress, floor-length, with red, high collar; pull-on elbow-length, black silk arm coverings; black tights with pumpkins running down the seams, black mary janes, a red-and-black choker, red-and-black belt, devil trident, face painted white with black eyes and lips, and hair up in a demonic bun because Rhiannon refused to wear her black wig.

Rhiannon wanted her parents to dress up, too. I considering going as a soccer player (which jersey to choose...) but the thought of walking miles in cleats made me instead choose to wear my black-and-orange Oxford Triennial Conference t-shirt (with non-scary owl on it), and a dionysiac wreath on my head. Jayni wore here black-and-orange Isthmia excavations t-shirt from 2001. We armed Rhiannon with her pumpkin-shaped candy basket, grabbed a flashlight, and out the door we went.

In Phoenix, there is the tradition for Mexican families to case neighborhoods in white vans or pick-up trucks, dropping off several children on one block and then picking them up at another. The reaction from most of the parents we spoke with were overtly racist, and the look of relief upon the faces of the people at our first trick-or-treat target when three white people piled out of a mini SUV made me feel bad. But Rhiannon was thrilled to say "trick-or-treat", to take a handful of candy, brag about it within earshot of the candy-givers, but then she remembered to say "thank you", and then tacked on a cheery "have a good night!" What kid says this on Halloween?

Most people where we live spend Halloween sitting in plastic chairs (much like the gypsy chairs we had in Greece), drinking soda or beer, and talking with their neighbors who seemed to like each other and even knew one another's names. They were all cheery and chummy, and not one of them correctly guessed Rhiannon's costume.

"Awwww, a pretty princess!"

"I am a corpse bride."

"Oh."

And then to the next house: "awwwwwwww, look at that scary vampire!"

"I am a corpse bride."

"Aha."

And then to the next house: "awwwwwwww, aren't you a pretty ghost!"

"I. AM. A. CORPSE. BRIDE!"

"Er."

And so on. Regardless of her misidentification, Rhiannon did get loads of candy, and, lucky for her, is of the kind dad does not like (e.g. fruity candy, chewy candy, gum, taffy, toffee, etc.). In Phoenix, as it is often hot (it was about 90 when we went trick-or-treating, and it was dark), chocolate does not keep so well.

We did meet up with two of Rhiannon's friends from school along with one of their parents and her daughter. And we learned from them which houses in the neighborhood were giving out free, cold beer to parents-in-need. This was a first for me. And then a second... I have always thougt that people in Phoenix were quite friendly (and I've been to 45 states at this writing), and I think it's because we all live in fear of running out of gas/water/food/snake repellant and would need help from anyone to survive out here. So we are hospitable so that when our turn comes to ask for help, we get it with a smile. Anyway, this hospitality was amazing and put Wisconsin to shame.

Walking from house to house, Rhiannon had begun to flag, but as soon as she caught up with her friends, they ran to every single lighted house. By the end of the night, she was dead tired, but this was the first year I did not have to carry her (or her candy). She is getting bigger and it makes me smile.

At home, Rhiannon was ready for bed. She didn't even dump out any of her candy to count and sort it (that would come on Saturday morning). She begged to get out of her costume. She was happy though, and content. I wonder what she will be next year. Perhaps the blonde bassist from Smashing Pumpkins.

Rhiannon. Cute in the dark.

Andrew (Papa)