I recently watched Elf again. Its not necessarily a great movie, but seeing a 40 year old acting and thinking like a child helped to shine a big bright light on the dramatic difference between how we act and think at one age, then how it completely changes at another. At some point we stop having fun in the same ways. At some point there is shame in what we say and do.

For the most part the change I have gone through is subtle enough that I don’t notice. I can remember back to my youth. But those memories are through current eyes and I’m certain the tone and meaning of what I originally experienced is lost. However there was one point in my life where the change from child to adult was as sudden as falling off a waterfall. One moment I was a child, the next I acquired the shame of an adult.

Every year I loved to dress in a stupid costume and go out with my parents on Halloween to knock on doors and get candy.

“Oh how cute” they would say. “What are you supposed to be?”

I don’t even remember what any of the costumes were, which is probably for the best. I’m still waiting for my parents to break out the big book of pictures compiled for the sole purpose of embarrassing me in front of my friends. The one that shows me demolishing my first birthday cake or my silly Halloween costumes or me naked in any number of exposing poses, but it never comes. It’s odd that my snap shot memories are mostly based on sit-com sociology rather than physical proof. Regardless either the pictures don’t exist or they have been lost in the many moves and moldy sheds. There are a few pictures I have seen. One my girl friend has. A stunning image of a person I don’t recognize at age five-ish, then a few more school-picture-day photos of some more people that resemble me, but I don’t recognize.

The memory of my changing needs no image to recall.

One year I got all dressed up in my costume. It was a Jawa from Star Wars. I made the cloak myself and had these cool yellow sunglasses with red LED’s in the middle of each lens and it looked pretty cool in the dark with the hood up. Now that I think back I remember as I made the costume something felt different but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Like I was nervously waiting for something but I didn’t know what it was. Anyway on the big night I got dressed and set out with my dad down the mostly darkened street. But instead of walking up the steps to the first lit porch I stopped. Suddenly for the first time in my life I felt that what I was doing was silly and embarrassing. Not just any something, but the same something that I had been doing every year since I was three. But this year instead of walking to the door and claiming my candy I turned to my dad and said.
“This doesn’t feel right anymore.”
We turned towards home and walked back in silence. I never went trick-or-treating again.

Looking back it must have been a profound moment for my dad. How many fathers get to actually see their son shed the ideals of a boy. Witness a sudden shift in personality as the Jawa suit is discarded and left lying in the warm October air in front of the first door.

I’ve often relived the experience and asked myself the same questions. What changed? Why was it that the year before it was fun to trick-or-treat. Something that I looked forward to and was excited about, then 365 days later the same activity felt uncomfortable and unnecessary.

For every measurable change, how many have occurred without notice? Can I ever really compare my current mind to that which existed as a child? I remember that night I was a little fearful of the sudden change, but relieved that I didn’t have to dress up in a silly costume and walk around hearing people say. “Oh how cute.” And “What are you supposed to be?”

I don’t have the answer, although I’m certain it has something to do with sex.