Carmel-by-the-Sea, California
And then it was Halloween. Carmel incorporated as a city on this date over a hundred years ago. And way back, almost thirty years ago, was the only time I attended the annual parade celebrating the city and Halloween. I had driven to Carmel on my own, motivated by the stories of a new friend's travels. She had traveled alone for two years with only a backpack, working in exotic places before moving on to the next. I could not in any measure of imagination do anything like that. But I could travel to Carmel on my own. When visiting Carmel, we had been renting a tiny house from a friend for several years. I was comfortable in both the house and the town, to where we had first traveled in 1982. So I spent two nights alone in the familiar little house before being joined by Tom. And that year, on Halloween, we had attended the parade.
This year, Joel and I wandered around town before settling in to watch the parade. Anyone in costume is welcome to join the parade and there were a lot of costumes. Also a lot of old cars, mostly convertibles with the passengers in frankly silly costumes, tossing candy bars out to those of us who lined Ocean Avenue. While waiting for the parade to begin, we found a perch on a small stone wall on the median of the street. The couple perched beside us were from Austin, Texas and we were enjoying our conversation with them when someone approached who identified himself as being a city worker, and politely informed us that we would need to move from sitting on the World War I monument as it was historical. No one argued. We all cheerfully complied and moved up the median. The husband from Austin found a large boulder to sit on. The rest of us stood or sat on the ground of the median. The Austin husband commented that he hoped his rock wasn't historical. Historical aside, the parade is ragtag hilarious. We laughed, applauded, and cheered to its end, then said goodbye to our fellow squatters and headed to Aw Shucks for oysters.
In all my years in Carmel, I had never eaten in this Ocean Avenue restaurant, though I have walked past it hundreds of times on my way to or from The Sock Shop where I buy socks for myself and my friends. Oysters are a birthday tradition for Joel and I, started way back when we first got together, almost ten years ago. And we had gone to Connie and Ted's in Hollywood for oysters on my birthday two years ago. It was our first restaurant meal since the pandemic had begun, and we had dutifully showed our vax cards before being admitted to that restaurant.
The retail stores and restaurants in Carmel were giving out candy to anyone in costume. We were seated at the oyster bar in Aw Shucks when two little girls in princess and fairy costumes came in carrying their Jack O'Lantern totes which were being utilized for treats. They climbed up on stools to show one of the shuckers how much candy they had. The little girls were adorable, and excited. That's their dad, Joel said to me. And I thought, only in Carmel. But I'm certain this doesn't only happen in Carmel. I'm sure things like this happen in all of the places where there is a sense of community. A sense of wanting merriment in the community. A sense of slowing down to enjoy frivolity in a greater world seemingly devoid of such pace and trivialities.
We enjoyed our oysters, while watching a World Series game. It was the last day of October. Wasn't it just summer a few minutes back? As we walked out of the restaurant, meandering down Ocean Avenue on a fairly warm, autumn night, I felt joyful and content. My late friend, Pam, often spoke of how she and her sister would play the glad game (taken from Pollyanna) whenever life got too heavy. The world is surely heavy out there, right now. Sometimes it feels like more than ever. But on this night, in this town, holding Joel's hand as we walked, I lost my connection with our imperfect world, and felt grateful for this truly happy Halloween.
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