Irene dresses for Halloween as she goes forth into the world and is social. The rest of us have no cause for costumes. As Halloween always has been one of my favorite holidays, I’ve been trying to figure out how to resurrect a ritual. It took Uncle Ron going the way of the dinosaurs to kick me into gear.

Ron the Irreverent became godfather to our eldest daughter.

Holidays are our means of marking time and remembrance. This year we added a hajj to our local dearly departed on November 1, which is All Hallow’s Day. We started preparations yesterday (All Hallow’s Eve), by gathering offerings. The idea is to eat and drink with friends and family one more time. Our locally planted loved ones liked cookies, so that is where I began.

Black walnuts from our back yard. Who knew they are better dried in the shell for two or three years than fresh off the tree?

Michael magically retrieved a hunk of steel from his stash, which is perfect for cracking those hard shells. I remember my grandpa sitting and picking black walnuts from their shells. I don’t remember how he cracked them. Never inside, as my grandma would not have appreciated walnut shells all over her floors. I snuck a few as I cracked them and instantly flew back to my grandma’s kitchen, snitching a bit of brown sugar fudge.

We sat and ate chocolate chip and oatmeal walnut cookies with Bucka at the Northern Wisconsin Veteran’s Memorial. I feel his presence more here at The Land. He put his mark on this place more than any headstone could mark him.

Klink and Harriette were partial to cookies too, but reveled in the naughtiness of drinking wine. Harriette would have been mortified by drinking in public. Klink had a second glass.

We brought camp chairs and made a picnic. We went to the Kozy Kafe in Grantsburg afterward for something warm, and because it was their favorite hang out. I had a burger in memory of my dad.

Our last stop was at the Cushing Cemetery to bring Ralph and Nonie some Manhattans and a few cookies. We hope to park ourselves not far from them when our time comes.

Now that we are back home warming by the fire, we will raise a beer to Uncle Ron and make some popcorn dressed with Parmesan cheese.

I hope some day this one will come and pour a libation on our graves.