halloween, vhs tapes, growing up

10.17.25

My parents are old as hell. My dad is 61 and my mother recently celebrated the big 60; it got me thinking about how this generation gap affected how I was raised compared to other kids my age.

Growing up, our household was always one or two steps behind with technology. We had a Windows ‘98 in ‘09 for our family computer (recession indicator), and my mother refused to trade in her BlackBerry Curve 8520 for an already out of date iPhone 6 until 2016.

While this aversion to new tech meant that I wouldn’t receive my first flip phone until the ripe age of 14, it also meant that I would grow up to be extremely pretentious about ideas like the value of physical media and how wires and circuits are probably very much alive.

This is all to say that I had access to a massive collection of VHS tapes for a child of the 2010s. I would pop those guys into our chunky CRT, rewind the tape, and repeatedly watch every bargain bin show in my arsenal.

I hate to put too much stock into nostalgia, but when the weather starts cooling down and the leaves begin to change color, I can allow myself a wistful sigh for memory's sake, sure. I’ve been thinking about the chilly Octobers I would spend diligently preparing for Halloween night.

Of course, part of this preparation was exposing myself to any scary, horrific, and / or frightening media I could find. With two hours of monitored internet access per weekend and an 8:30 bedtime, my options were limited.

This would lead me to seek out all manner of bloody sexy slasher movies the minute I got my first laptop connected to the scrap of wi-fi at my middle school, though the gateway tape that truly tapped into my enduring horror fascination may seem a little tame in comparison.

man i love those monster puppets

I went to rewatch a bunch of old Halloween specials to come up with article ideas, and I can say that 1997’s “Elmo Says Boo” stood out as the most formative. Don’t roll your eyes, stop that. Hear me out. Compared to your Rolie Polie Olies and your Blue's Clues, there’s something uniquely insane about the process of slapping together materials to create a set for little guys made of fabric and plastic to run around in. It’s tangible, is what I mean.

As a kid, the set design for this thoroughly freaked me out. Pairing up a terrified Elmo with a life-size medical skeleton model and a whole ass haunted suit of armor was jarring for a show that had stuck to wholesome human-muppet skits and songs up to that point.

Bright, sunny street views were replaced with the cobwebs and candlelit corridors of a castle deep in the woods (where is this place in relation to Sesame Street actually. how did he get there). Although the special’s runtime is full of cute bat puppets and bad Halloween puns, the set pieces were eerie; tell me they were from some obscure vampire b-movie and I could maybe possibly believe you.

As an adult, I still had a fun time revisiting the Count’s crib. The creaking entrance door, the cold glow of the moon, and poor Elmo’s apprehension brought back those mixed feelings of caution and curiosity. I also got the impression that the production crew had a lot of fun playing around with tropes, using corny sound queues and cheap (child-friendly) scares that reminded me of studio-era Hollywood monster movies.

There was also that laughing painting in a dark room full of red velvet furniture and curtains, but we don’t need to talk about her right now.

wrap it up

I won’t pretend I planned out any meaningful conclusions, it’s just good practice to start writing and see where it goes. However. I will say that as I approach completing my undergrad, I’m beginning to understand why rummaging through the past can be good. Useful, even.

It’s so easy to get tunnel vision on a path that requires nothing short of a blood pact with the unholy grindset. I often get out of touch with where I’m from and the stuff I actually like doing. So it seems I’ve come up with a simple, one-size-fits-all solution: Watch the muppets. Call your mom sometime.