October 31

Tonight my children will don their costumes and hurry from house to house in our neighborhood. They will ring doorbells, say “Trick or treat!” be handed some candy by a friendly person, say “Thank you,” (maybe...hopefully) then rush off to the next house.

When I was growing up in rural Nevada, trick or treating was a different experience. First we’d take a car. Miles separated our neighbors and us. We often went trick or treating with our cousins. We’d either caravan or one memorable year we all piled in the back of a pick-up truck with a cover and bounced along the dirt roads together. When we got to the various houses, we’d knock and be invited in. Whoever lived at the house would know us—or at least our parents—well. They’d exclaim at how beautiful/scary/funny or creative (one year my cousin Margaret was a McDonald’s French Fry Guy) our costumes were. They’d have us spin around for the full effect. They’d give us full size candy bars, sometimes more than one, or homemade cookies or (at Eleanor’s house) a mushy red apple. That was trick or treating.

When I was in college, we had trick or treaters come to our door. I answered the door and invited them in. There was an audible gasp from both the little girls at the door and my roommates. One of my roommates stepped in front of me, tossed some candy the girls’ way and shut the door in their faces. She explained to me how the rest of the world does trick or treating. Maybe in that moment some of the charm of Halloween was lost for me.

We didn’t have to go to school on Halloween when I was growing up. It was, after all, Nevada Day. On October 31, 1864, Nevada was admitted to the Union. It did not have the population to become a state but it was during the Civil War and the Union wanted and needed Nevada’s silver.

Nevada may have its faults (legalized gambling and prostitution) and its quirks (when I was in elementary school we learned everything from Nevada's state song, "Home Means Nevada" to its state fossil, the ichthyosaur--who has a state fossil?) but I loved growing up there. Even though nearly half of my life has been spent not living there, in many ways it is still my home.

The best way to describe where I grew up in Nevada is to start with where I didn’t grow up. Not Las Vegas—which is everyone’s assumption. I grew up in the northeast corner of the state. Not Elko which is the nearest big town and not Wells which is the nearest small town. Not Deeth which is the ghost town where we got our mail (there is little there except a tiny post office) and not Star Valley (which only has one “r” and is in Wyoming). I grew up in Starr Valley. Which no one (except people that don’t know the proper way to trick or treat) knows of.

Starr Valley is a place of tall mountains, fragrant sagebrush and more stars at night than you can imagine…especially if you live in the clouds or in light pollution or both (like I do). Sometimes I miss the stillness, wild beauty and sunsets so much it makes me ache.

Happy Birthday Nevada.