Finding a New Perspective on Halloween
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I do not like Halloween; it’s just not my thing. I just never got what the fuss was all about. It struck me almost like a Hallmark holiday, but way more expensive and expansive. Ghouls, ghosts, and gore: Yawn.
I’m the one who leaves the house to avoid trick-or-treaters, or if I do stay home, convince my husband to dole out sweets to the slew of candy beggars.
I’m not completely against Halloween: When my children were of age, I participated fully, stocking up on M&Ms, Heath Bars, Snickers (and all the other sweets I blame my bad teeth for), and encouraging them to be ghosts, ghouls, gangsters, or whatever their little hearts desired. But once I became an empty-nester, all bets were off.
So, why was I combing the aisles of the local Halloween pop-up shop searching for the right combination of scars, scabs, blood, and guts so I could dress like a zombie?
So I could dance with the Mombies.
I’d become enthralled with this local dance group, started with just a few friends in 2016 by Terry Davis, as a fun way to show children that Halloween was not just about candy. Now numbering 47, the group has become quite the sensation with children and adults in my suburban Connecticut neighborhood (though people from many other towns flock to see them, too).
Each Halloween, the Mombies perform a choreographed flash mob–style dance in various locations around town. Each member puts her creative touch on dressing as the walking dead: There’s Army Zombie, Starbucks Zombie, Barbie Zombie, Nurse Zombie, Nun Mombie — you get the picture. They dance for fun but more than that, they dance to raise funds for metastatic breast cancer research for an organization called the Cancer Couch Foundation, started by the late Rebecca Timlin-Scalera, PhD, after she was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer in 2015.
When I was receiving chemo for breast cancer in 1988, one of the few things that helped get me through treatment was dance. My hair and my breasts may have been taken from me, but I refused to let my love of dance stop me. I needed to keep moving, mainly to prove to myself that I could.
Each Monday and Wednesday, I’d carefully place my wig over my bald head, my sweatband over my forehead, and pull on my thong leotard, tights, and leg warmers (it was the late ’80s, after all, and we all wanted to look like Jane Fonda), and head out to the gym. There, I stood tall in the front row of the hour-long 9 a.m. aerobics class, keeping pace with our peppy teacher, Donna, while stomping on cancer, chemo, and fear with grape vines, lunges, and straddles. Whitney Huston, Technotronic, and Journey gave me the rhythm to power through the irregular and jagged beat of my current life.
Thirty-five years later, and in remission, my love of dancing remains — and has been made so much stronger by my ability to love it for more than an escape from cancer. As luck would have it, an acquaintance, who is a Mombie herself, recalled the long-ago conversation we shared and my excitement about the group, and texted me a few months ago: “There’s an opening! If you’re still interested, let me know by end of day, since there’s a long waiting list! Practice begins next week.”
As a cancer survivor who has lost way too many dear friends to the disease, dancing as a Mombie would be a win-win for me, and ultimately make me view Halloween through a whole different lens.
And so, each Sunday night, I pull on my T-shirt, leggings, and sneakers and prepare to dance for 90 blissful minutes with our talented choreographer, Paul, and a group of women of all ages and backgrounds. We dance to his take on the smurf, stomp, and prep, with Michael Jackson, Beyonce, and Vanilla Ice keeping a steady beat.
After the first few practices, I was tempted to quit: my knees ached, and I felt overwhelmed and intimidated by the intricate choreography. But quitting was simply not an option. I pushed past it and persevered. (Ice packs and lots of practice helps.)
As I prepare to dance this Halloween, I’ll replace my long-ago blood and scars with fake ones purchased at the Halloween pop-up. I’ll put on my wig, pull on my leotard, tights, and leg warmers, and dance my heart out as Jane Fonda Mombie.
My knees may be weaker, and my moves a bit rusty, but my spirit and resolve are stronger and more grounded than ever.
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