a lifetime of Halloweens: 2025 edition.

 (Editor's note: I originally wrote this just before Halloween 2015. However, as you know, time marches on... and Halloweens keep coming. So I have been adding to this post each year so as not to miss a Halloween. That means we, once again, get to revisit a lifetime of costumes. I can hardly wait.)

YOU GUYS IT'S FINALLY HALLOWEEN.

I am excited: per usual. I have had my costume picked out since last Halloween.

My costume is not just any costume. It kicks ass, and I can't wait to show it to you. However, there is a definite downside to having such an awesome costume. After this Halloween, I can NEVER WEAR IT FOR HALLOWEEN AGAIN.

Because I have a policy.

I cannot be the same thing for Halloween twice.

"But wait!" you say. "What about the zombies, huh? YOU ARE LYING!"

But no! I dress up as a zombie for specific zombie-themed events: not for Halloween itself. Doesn't count. It's the zombie clause in my self-imposed Halloween contract. (Also, I've never been the SAME zombie, so there's that). Same goes for any re-wearing of costumes (as you will soon see in 2018): I'm not wearing the old costume for Halloween ITSELF, so it doesn't count.

I must have decided on my no-repeats Halloween rule at a pretty young age: I have pictures going back to 1988, and you won't find any duplicates (with the special exception of Halloween theme parties that do not fall on Halloween itself). You will, however, find some darn cute pictures of me as a very excited child. 

I wish I had pictures of every Halloween, but I don't. I don't know what I was for Halloween 1987 - but I was a mere six months old and I am pretty sure that my parents dressed me up in the little skeleton costume you'll see on my sister in 1991 and my brother in 1993. 1992 is also missing, as are 1999 - 2001. While I am unsure about 1992, 1999 - 2001 was a dark time in my life... as I was deemed too old for trick-or-treating. I decided to forgo costumes those years, but I eventually realized that just because you're too old to trick-or-treat does NOT mean you're too old to dress up for Halloween. You're NEVER too old to dress up for Halloween, dammit. The only other year missing is 2009, but that was the year that I was in New Orleans. I was so excited to spend Halloween in New Orleans, but alas, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I didn't know anyone well enough to go out Halloweening with them, and even if I did, I didn't have enough money for a costume or drinks at the bar. I spent that Halloween curled up on my air mattress, watching Halloween episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and sad-eating Halloween candy from my landlady.

On the bright side? Pretty much every Halloween going forward is guaranteed to be better than that one.

So here we go: a pictorial history of Calla's Halloweens!

1988
Superman

I came across this picture in May when I was digging through a box of ancient photos in search of something embarrassing to post for Mother's Day. (You mean you DON'T share ridiculous photos of your mother from the 1980s on Mother's Day? Shame on you.) I was overjoyed, as 1988 had been one of my mysterious gap years. You have no idea how happy finding this picture made me.

1989
Mickey Mouse

Is this or is this not the cutest damn Mickey Mouse you've ever seen? I was about two-and-a-half, and Halloween was already my favorite holiday. Trick-or-treating in the country always meant that you'd come away with an enormous haul. We just had to hop in the minivan and drive from house to house. As not many trick-or-treaters make it out into the sticks where we lived, any house you went to would reward you with handfuls of candy. Or multiple full-sized candy bars. Or twelve-packs of pop. Country trick-or-treating is the best.

1990
pumpkin

My pumpkin makeup is a little bit hilarious. I'm not sure which parent was responsible for this, but I would like to know why exactly I have a red mouth instead of a black one. The jack o' lantern face on my sweatshirt has a black mouth - why not me? Am I a flesh-eating jack o' lantern? Or the child of artistically challenged parents? Let's go with that.

1991
witch

You may have noticed that all of my costumes involve long sleeves. Indeed, I live in the Midwest, so many of my Halloween costumes were planned around sweatshirts and winter coats. That's why I look so bulky: under my black sweatshirt was probably another sweatshirt. I believe 1991 was a particularly snowy Halloween, but there's no way that I wasn't going out trick-or-treating.

1993
princess

This princess dress came from a huge bin of my mom's old clothes that had been deemed "for dress-up." I played dress-up ALL the damn time, and it was a delight for me to be able to wear this out in public. To top it off, Mom made me glitter shoes: old dress shoes coated in glue and dipped in multi-colored glitter. They were the BEST.

1994
dog

I don't know where this costume came from, but I do remember that it was supposed to be a bunny suit. It more or less a white onesie and had big ears sticking straight up. One of Mom's coworkers sewed spots on it, and presto! I was a dalmatian. However, even though I was clearly wearing a dog collar, I was mistaken for a cow for all of Halloween day.

1995
cheerleader

1995 must've been a particularly warm Halloween, hence the bare legs. Though I was only eight in 1995, I feel as though my sarcasm was really starting to develop: being a cheerleader for Halloween was the scariest thing I could think of.

1996
cat

Another cold Halloween, as our costumes were comprised mainly of different-colored sweatshirts. My cat ears are a little droopy, but I felt (at the time) like the stuffed mouse really brought the costume together. Please, though, direct your attention to my brother Mitch, who (at age three) is way too delighted to be Satan.

1997
Cruella de Vil

Ah, the year I was Cruella de Vil. Mom (for reasons still unknown) had this old rabbit-fur coat in the back of her closet, and I commandeered it for Halloween that year. My cousin Ethan was a part of the theatre department at SDSU, so he was able to procure (and spray-paint) the wig for me. Another cold-weather costume, but this one was a win. 

1998
gypsy/just-rolled-out-of-bed girl

The first year of the double Halloween costume. I dug through the old dress-up box and was a gypsy for the school Halloween parade. (This was around the time Disney released The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and I totally wished I could be Esmeralda.) I came home in my gypsy outfit, all ready to trick-or-treat, and I was informed that it was too cold to wear it. I would have to find something else. I half-heartedly threw together my "person in pajamas" costume, which is 100% lame. Had I realized that it would be my last year as a trick-or-treater, I'd like to think that I would've come up with something better. We'll never know. (Looking back at this in 2018, I realize now that cultural appropriation is not ok, and I regret my costume choice. However, as an 11-year-old, I had no idea what I was doing. Please forgive me.)

2002
Medieval vampire?

Ok, so I'm not 100% sure what I billed my costume as this year. I do know that it involved this dress that I bought at Goodwill, a vampire cape from KMart, and skeleton earrings. Medieval vampire, perhaps? Who knows.

2003
Count von Disco Bono

Another off-year in my Halloween history. This is the cape that I bought with my friend Allison the year before. The cape itself is pretty awesome - it came from Kmart in Brookings before it closed, and I still have the cape to this day. I also have the skeleton earrings in this picture, which you can see if you look very closely. Anyway, I wanted to dress up for Halloween but was fresh out of ideas, so this is what I got. I called myself Count von Disco Bono: vampire cape + Bono sunglasses + pink plaid bellbottoms. A terrible costume, but a costume nonetheless.

2004
reject Charlie's Angel/beat up band kid/ generic sock hopper

Halloween of my senior year of high school was AWESOME. That was the year our high school football team made it to the state playoffs (and won). Halloween was right around said big game, so all of Halloween (which was on a Sunday, so we celebrated early at school) was one big pep rally day. There were games and snacks and absolutely no productivity whatsoever. My outfit was a red one-piece bell-bottomed monstrosity that I got at Goodwill, plus some go-go boots and a shiny scarf. I was a reject Charlie's Angel. I had to work at the Dairy Mart  that evening, and there was no way that I was doing so in a polyester jumpsuit. I changed into a dress and saddle shoes and was a generic sock-hopper. On Halloween itself, Bob and I dressed up as beat-up band kids and Meagan dressed up as our band director... and we went trick-or-treating at his house. I recall that he and his wife thought we were hilarious. Or hilariously lame. Either way.

2005
band kid

(Editor's note: this qualifies as a different costume than the previous year because a.) I was a beat up band kid in 2004 and just a regular one in 2005, and b.) the beat up band kid costume was not my main costume: an honor I'd give to my reject Charlie's Angel jumpsuit.) 

Yes, friends: this was the first year of the triple costume. Much to my great pleasure, I found all sorts of people at college who loved to dress up at Halloween. I stole adopted my old band uniform - after all, the school had just gotten new ones and was systematically burning/donating/destroying the old uniforms, so I figured that I might as well give mine the loving home it deserved. Anyway, it was the perfect Midwestern costume - made of wool = super warm. And how about that hat? If only I'd had the red plume that goes with it. 

2006
zombie I/sailor-ish/opposite

The triple costume returns! My friend Sara and I attended UMM's first Zombie Prom: though we look like undead pandas, believe me when I say that we were zombies. Halloween was on a Tuesday that year, so we also needed costumes for the preceding weekend: hence my sailor outfit. It's difficult to see in this picture, but my top is an actual wool sailing uniform that I picked up at an antique store. Points for authenticity. Finally, Sara and I had costumes for Halloween itself: we went as opposites. It's the only time that I've ever dressed as a concept for Halloween, and it was a very liberal arts college thing to do. I totally loved it and still think we were a little bit brilliant.

2007
Croc

One of my all-time favourite costumes: the year of the Croc. Ever since I first saw those rubbery horrors, I have cursed their existence. Sara had a pair of pink Crocs that she so graciously let me borrow for this costume. This was the year that Halloween was on a Wednesday, and Wednesday nights were the nights that both Sara (the news editor) and I (the arts and entertainment editor) worked late at the college paper. We put in extra hours on Monday and Tuesday of that week in order to be out the door by 10pm Wednesday - instead of our usual 2am Thursday. Halloween is THAT important.

2008
Norwegian

Thanks to the leap year, Halloween landed on a Friday in 2008. Theoretically, that was great: but we poor band kids had a concert on HALLOWEEN NIGHT. And not even a fun Halloween concert... a regular concert that no one attended BECAUSE IT WAS HALLOWEEN. After the concert, we all booked it back to our houses to get into our Halloween costumes and catch up to the rest of our non-band friends. My costume is an authentic Norwegian folk costume, given to me by my authentic Norwegian grandma. And made of wool. The best Minnesotan Halloween costumes are wool-based.

2010
Lobster Telephone/skeleton vampire

 

I was living in Minneapolis in 2010, which is an all-around excellent place to spend Halloween. I had finished my tenure as an intern at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, but during my time there, I learned about all sorts of cool events that they sponsor. Example: they do this thing called Third Thursdays where, the third Thursday of each month, they keep the museum open late and have some kind of big event. On this particular Third Thursday, the MIA asked attendees to come dressed as their favorite MIA work of art. I chose Dali's Lobster Telephone because why on earth WOULDN'T you choose Lobster Telephone? That same weekend, James and I went to a performance of Psycho with the Minnesota Orchestra - the movie was playing on a screen behind the orchestra while they played the soundtrack. It was amazing. I had purchased this skeleton shirt at Walmart in college (2007? probably?). It was child-sized and glowed in the dark and I loved it. Oddly, this is not the last appearance of me in child-sized skeleton apparel.

2011
Rocky Horror fail/old-timey teacher

By 2011, I had moved to Sioux Falls and had been there for approximately one month. I wore the costume on the left to a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, hoping that it would be as amazing as the midnight showing I had seen in Minneapolis the year before. (Note: it wasn't.) My Rocky Horror outfit was not as risque as a real Rocky Horror outfit should be, but what can I say? It was cold, and I was a chicken. The costume on the left is the one I wore to work at the Department of Labor and Regulation. I was dead-broke, so I had to pretty much phone this one in. I carried a ruler and was an old-timey teacher - the dress belonged to my grandma in the 60s, who was real-life old-timey teacher. Again, points for authenticity.

2012
Batman

By Halloween 2012, I was gainfully employed at the library and was delighted to find out that nearly everyone at the library dressed up for Halloween. The library costumes were all part of a theme, and the theme that year was superheroes. That worked out perfectly for me, as my brother Mitch had given me this spectacular pair of pajamas for Christmas the year before. And may I say that James's Pee-Wee Herman costume is simply amazing? 

2013
zombie II/Duck Dynasty/Mary Poppins

    

2013 was the first year that we participated in the Zombie Walk... and I didn't really even get to be in it. The parade started at 5 o'clock, but I worked until 5... I thought I could quick run over, find James and our friend Nate, and quick get my makeup done and hop in the parade. Alas, by the time I left the library and made it to the zombie area (approx. two minutes), the parade was over. So I found James and Nate at a restaurant, and they did my makeup while we were waiting for a table. For Halloween itself, the library's theme costume was Duck Dynasty (NOT MY VOTE - I need you to know that), but my REAL costume was Mary Poppins - and this was the first (and so far, only) year James and I have had couples' costumes. 

2014
zombie III/Buster Bluth

We arrive at 2014. Mitch made it for the Zombie Walk, and I feel as though our makeup was much better than the year before. For Halloween, I convinced the library to go with a "TV characters" theme just because I had been dying to go as Buster Bluth. I repurposed the Duck Dynasty jacket from the year before and bought camo pants, a hook, an army hat, wire glasses, and a loose seal - complete with a yellow bow tie. It was the most I'd ever spent on a Halloween costume, and the hardest I'd ever worked on one. And you know what? Almost NO ONE got it. At the bar that evening, one guy yelled out "Motherboy," which was a spot-on Buster Bluth reference and totally made my night.

2015

zombie IV/Maleficent/Marla Hooch

2015 was a particularly strong year for me, and I'm really quite proud of my costumes. Of course, there was the zombie element: I went to both the Minneapolis Zombie Pub Crawl and the Sioux Falls Zombie Walk, so zombie squared. (I'm only including the one picture, though, since my zombie costume was the same.) For work, I dressed as Maleficent. Our work theme was heroes and villains, and I was only one of two villains. I got a lot of great compliments on my costume that day, and no less than three people asked to take a picture of/with me. But what really struck me as hilarious was that for every one person who commented on my costume, there were at least three more who pretended like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. On Halloween itself, I dressed as a Rockford Peach - specifically, Marla Hooch. "And then there's Marla Hooch... what a hitter!"

2016

zombie V/zombie David Bowie/Scarlett O'Hara

Here I am at the 2016 Minneapolis Zombie Pub Crawl, in my child-size skeleton onesie. We had initially planned to go as Zombie Clue (which would've been AWESOME), but two members of our group couldn't come. Instead of looking like idiots when we dressed as just part of Zombie Clue, we went with the classic random zombie horde. I found my costume the day of at Goodwill. Typical zombie behavior. In the middle is my costume for the Sioux Falls Zombie Walk: my FAVORITE event of the year. James went as Zombie Prince, and I was Zombie David Bowie. Too soon. Finally, on actual Halloween, I dressed as Scarlett O'Hara. Hoop skirt and all. 

2017

zombie dinosaur/jellyfish

 

2017 was the year I started grad school. My program is set up so that the bulk of it is online, but we do meet in person in Sioux Falls for intensive weekends from time to time. One of the intensive weekends (which are super NOT optional) landed on Zombie Walk weekend. The class went from 9am - 5pm on Friday. Zombie Walk starts promptly at 5 downtown. The second class let out, I bolted to the parking lot, where James was waiting for me with my dinosaur onesie costume, a Zombie Walk entry pin, and a bag of zombie makeup. While he drove us downtown, I did my makeup in the car. Not too bad for hastily applied car zombie makeup, I must say. For Halloween itself, I dressed up like a jellyfish: my most ambitious handmade costume to date. I had a tutu, iridescent leggings, fairy lights wound inside my tutu, glitter glued to my face, and a billion strands of glittery ribbon hot-glued to my tutu. I left a trail of glitter wherever I went (I STILL find glitter in my car), but it was AWESOME.

2018

zombie Marty McFly/Marla Hooch reprise/Beetlejuice/Winifred Sanderson

 

2018 was AWESOME. It was the first year I had QUADRUPLE costumes. 2018 was the first year James and I went as couple zombies to the Zombie Walk, and I have to say, we were a hit. And by that, I mean we got lots of high-fives. Plus, my Marty McFly vest was super warm during the cold and rainy parade, so that was an unexpected bonus. After the Zombie Walk, our friends Bob and Luke hosted a "nevertheless, she trick-or-treated" Halloween party, and you were to dress as a strong woman. So Marla Hooch made a comeback, as did Maleficent (but on James this time). This was James's first time dressing as a woman for Halloween, and he was super into how comfortable Maleficent's robe was. My Beetlejuice costume was for a Halloween-themed murder mystery event we had at the library. My goal as a child was to have a career that allowed me to dress up for Halloween, and I hit the jackpot as a librarian. I got my Winifred Sanderson costume at the Halloween store on November 1 2017- 50% off! I have wanted to be Winifred Sanderson FOREVER, and this year was finally my year. And this was the same year we had a teeny black kitten (named Ned) who could pose as my Binx.

2019

zombie Bojack Horseman/Captain Hook/traditional vampire/Willy Wonka/grim reaper

 

 

You guys. Five costumes, one Halloween season. A personal best. This was made possible by having two Halloween library programs instead of just one. 2019 saw the sixth year of me as a zombie - this year, I was zombie Bojack Horseman and James was zombie Todd. The horse head mask was impossible to see in and stunk like disgusting rubber, so this picture was the only time I actually wore it over my head. I had actual zombie makeup on under there; I promise. That same evening, we went to a Halloween party at our friends' house, at which I won the popular vote for best costume. I've never worn a fake mustache before, and let me tell you, it's not for the weak. The library had our Halloween murder mystery a few days later, and this had a vampire theme. I dug out my vampire cape from 2002, but I was a more traditional vampire - not to be confused with whatever medieval vampire I was in 2002 or Count von Disco Bono in 2003. I even had fangs. On Halloween itself, I dressed as Willy Wonka: a costume that had been on my to-do list for ages. It turns out all I had to do was buy the hat, the bowtie, and the blazer, and a costume was born. The blazer is some cheap polyester thing from Amazon, but I ended up actually liking it, so it already has a home in my business casual rotation. Then, on Halloween night, the library had a haunted pumpkin patch story time. It was AWESOME. We decorated the pumpkin patch, read scary stories, and had staff scaring children. I was the Grim Reaper, and it is my favourite library program to date.

2020

Landshark/Ursula/Brienne of Tarth

 

  

Ah yes... COVID-ween. I've been some kind of zombie every year since 2013, and COVID forced me to break my streak. Zombiewalk was canceled, and rightly so, but I couldn't help but be a little bummed out about it. We also couldn't have a Halloween program at the library. I started off as Landshark on the Friday before Halloween - that's when us working folks dress up, after all. I volunteered to work at the library on Halloween day, mostly so I could wear another costume. I am a huge fan of Disney villains, so I chose Ursula and put my costume together thanks to a mishmash of things I ordered on Amazon. Finally, it was Phineas's first Halloween, so James and I had to make it count. It was also essential to put him in awesome costumes when he's young because he doesn't have any say. So we were  Tormund Giantsbane, Brienne of Tarth, and a dire wolf. (If you're not familiar with Game of Thrones, I apologize.)

2021

bcat-cbat/snail/Buttercup

My first costume is actually a bat, but I kept getting mistaken for a cat, so here we are. My snail costume is made out of library packaging material and a metric ton of hot glue. Our big family costume this year was Buttercup, Westley, and a Rodent of Unusual Size (who would not wear his cute mouse hat).

2022

zombie Winifred Sanderson/Maleficent reprise/ Instagram/Golden Gate Bridge/Oscar the Grouch

 

I am SO delighted to be back to my five-costume rotation. The library had a zombie program a couple of weeks before Halloween, and zombie costumes were encouraged. The local brewery has bingo every month, and this month included a costume contest. I won for "scariest." (There were like five people dressed up, but a win is a win.) The "Instagram v Reality" costume was a great last-minute costume which I find more hilarious as I look at it. Every year, I have a costume I am particularly excited about, and this year, it's the Golden Gate Bridge. Some of my favorite costumes of all time have been inanimate objects. Lastly, the three of us dressed up as Sesame Street characters for trick-or-treating with Phineas. 

 

2023

Weird Al/Arthur/the Joker

I admit, I was a little nervous about what Halloween would mean for me in 2023. My original due date with Robin was October 22, so I could have still been in the hospital or he could have been in the NICU. Robin ended up being born on October 4 and needing no time in the NICU, so that worked out well. My first costume of the year was for Halloween-themed rotary bingo at the brewery, at which I won a prize for "most hilarious." On Halloween day, there was an event at Phineas's preschool where adults were welcome to dress up, so obviously, I did. As Arthur the aardvark. Finally, the family costume: Batman, Robin (ha), the Joker, and the Riddler. The first Halloween as a family of four.

2024

anglerfish/Rose/the Dude

 

Halloween Rotary Bingo now a tradition, so my friends and I showed up to bingo all dressed up... only to find we were the only ones in costume. Turns out Rotary thought it was too far away from actual Halloween (it was on October 24), so they didn't make it a costume contest. Joke was on them, because the costume table (five of us) won four times. My greatest dream as a family of four was to dress up as the Golden Girls, but Phineas was proving to be a tough sell. He wanted to be a washing machine. Then a monster. Then a SCARY washing machine. We were going to a special trick-or-treating event at our friends' farm, and I played it super cool and suggested maybe he wanted to be an old lady? To my surprise, Phineas said YES HE WOULD. Phineas thought the glasses were the funniest thing he'd ever seen, so he got to be Sophia. He also loved the purse. Both kids left their wigs alone - probably because it was cold out and the wigs were basically hats. James was Blanche because the yellow vintage dress fit him and the pink one didn't, and I thought the pink one was more Rose. That left Dorothy for Robin! Finally, I was the Dude from The Big Lebowski. Or His Dudeness, or the Duder, or El Duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing. The number of people who knew who I was was discouraging, but I know it was a good costume, and that's what counts.

2025

Matt Foley/Calvin/Tim the Enchanter

 

I was Matt Foley - Chris Farley's SNL character who lives in a van down by the river - at Rotary Bingo this year, and I totally won one of the costume contest prizes. My work costume was Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes. I meant to do this last year when Robin was a tiger, but I dropped the ball and forgot to get myself a striped shirt. But my Halloween night costume was Tim the Enchanter from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Robin was my Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. He's awfully cute for the most foul, cruel, and bad tempered-rodent you ever set eyes on.

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And there's my lifetime of Halloweens! Rest assured I will continue adding to this list as the years go on, because you're never too old for Halloween. NEVER.

my dad, the Taps player.

My dad, Tim Bjorklund, did not set out to become a volunteer Taps player – but he has been playing Taps for veterans’ funerals for more than 20 years. “This is the most rewarding ‘job’ I have ever had,” Dad said.

                                                                    Photo: Rachel Clelland

Dad farms near Lake Poinsett, South Dakota. Before that, Dad played trumpet in the Arlington High School band in Arlington, South Dakota until he graduated in 1975. After that, Dad began his farming career. His trumpet sat untouched until the early 2000s, when retired Arlington band director Bob King and some of his former students (Dad included) gathered their instruments to play at Trinity Lutheran Church’s talent show. At that talent show, the Arlington Brass quintet was born.

Little did Dad know, but so was his Taps career.

In 2004, Dad was asked to play Taps for a man named Lyle Piehl. That was the first time Dad played Taps, and he has not stopped.

Dad has played for veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and Desert Storm. He has played for nine American Legions and in 16 cemeteries. Dad has played Taps for four women and 70+ men. He has played for 14 classmates’ parents, a set of brothers, a father/son pair, and two mother/son pairs. Dad has played for his own uncles and mother-in-law.

“Every Taps story is special,” Dad said. However, in all his years of playing Taps, two instances stand out. He played Taps for a 7^th Day Adventist, who was a conscientious objector during World War II. When it came time for the three-volley salute, the honor guard said, “Ready, aim,” but no “fire.” 

The other occasion was the funeral of my grandma Lorraine (his mother-in-law), who served in the WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) in the Navy in World War II. Tim played Taps for her funeral, but he was joined by his son-in-law, James. “Where else in the world could you hear a veteran’s son-in-law and the son-in-law’s son-in-law play Taps together?” said Dad.

In addition to playing Taps at funerals, Dad has played Taps to dedicate the Veterans’ Memorial in Arlington, along with playing Taps at Arlington’s Memorial Day program each year. For the past five years, Dad has participated in Taps Across America. Taps Across America is an event that takes place on each Memorial Day at 3pm local time. Anyone who can play Taps does so at this time, marking a national moment of remembrance. "My hope would be that somebody else dusts off their horn and does the same thing," said Dad.

When asked when Dad will retire his horn, he said, “I don’t know – but not today.”

misophonia.

You know that feeling of white-hot rage when someone next to you is chewing so loudly it's like they were raised in a barn?

Or when your significant other is breathing so loudly at night you cannot believe their audacity?

There's a name for that!

It's called misophonia.

I am a sufferer of misophonia. My poor husband James knows this well. Certain noises drive me up the wall. 

It was bad enough when it was just the two of us. (See: chewing.) But now that I live in a house full of loud boys, the struggle is increasingly real.

I have earplugs.

I have headphones.

I have anxiety medication.

But I do have to tell you it is nice knowing there's an actual name for this noise intolerance rather than it's just me being a jerk. Other people totally understand, too.

church clothes.

Going to church all the time wouldn’t have been so bad had it not been for the dreaded... 

…church clothes.

Up until I was a grown-ass adult, I was required to wear my Sunday best to church each week. In the 90s, that meant frilly dresses, those socks with the lacy ruffles (or white tights if it was cold out), and patent leather shoes with buckles. As I grew out of the cute childhood stage and into the early 2000s awkward teenage phase, it meant ill-fitting khakis and oversized sweaters.

I looked SO bad.

Complete with teenage attitude.

(Not that I looked any better in non-church clothes at that time, but that’s not my point.)

Why, oh why, I begged my parents, couldn’t I wear jeans to church like so many of my peers? Surely it didn’t matter what I was wearing as long as I was there?

Oh, but it did matter. I think my parents’ reasoning was something along the lines of “if all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?”

If it meant I never had to wear tights again, probably.

I have never been the girliest girl on the face of the planet. I would say I land squarely in the middle. As a kid, I loved to play in the forest, but I had a favorite dress I would wear while doing it. I played Barbies all the time, but my Barbies never had kids or husbands. Dress-up was a favorite past-time, but I didn’t come around to wearing makeup until I was a senior in high school. Even today, you’ll always find me neatly made-up with my nails done, but I have no clue how to do my hair.

My childhood church clothes were decidedly girly, and in a bullshit kind of way. Anyone who has ever had to wear those ruffly socks can tell you – they are not comfortable. They were itchy, and the ruffles never stayed folded the way you wanted them to. The patent shoes you wear with them were always pinchy, no matter what size they were. 1990s torture devices.

But look how cute!

Church was a fashion show, even if you might not think of it as one. Communion Sunday was when you really strutted your stuff. That’s when the whole congregation lined up to get to the front of the church where the wine and wafers were, and you could see what everyone was wearing. You had to look your best on Communion Sunday.

I came home from college one weekend and put on my standard issue church clothes on Sunday – I may not have gone to church when I was AT college, but the rule still stood when I was home from college. I came down the stairs to find a stunning sight: my brother, sister, and father, all wearing jeans! Cold would be the day in hell that would happen, I had been told as a teenager! You’d better believe I went immediately back upstairs to change.

Ever since then, with the exception of weddings and funerals, I have worn jeans to church. The only time I attend church is with my parents, so I am following their lead. And it truly does make going to church so much better. My church khakis can burn in hell.

the Sunday School teachers.

Sunday School. 

I'm sure you're familiar.

It's the hour-ish before or after church where, as a child, you get a kid-friendly dose of Bible learning. In the church where I grew up going, there was Sunday School available from the age of three all the way up until you were a freshman in high school.

To me, it was just more church. I couldn't wait to be done. 

I was finally confirmed a few months into my sophomore year of high school. In Lutheranism, that means you’re a “full” member of the church. You have gone through everything Sunday School has to offer, and you have confirmed (see what they did there?) you believe everything that was said at your baptism. You promise to be a good church-goer and to do your best for your fellow humans.

It essence, it means you’re a Sunday School graduate. I was ELATED. No more hour-long learning sessions after we’ve already sat through church. My weekly time in that church building had just been cut in half – or so I thought.

You see, in South Dakota, you can get your restricted license at 14. They figure we’re already driving farm vehicles as soon as we’re tall enough; might as well just make it legal. I would have been 15 at the time of my confirmation, and thanks to my parents purchasing my grandma’s old Buick, I had a car at my disposal. I knew there was no way I would get out of going to church every Sunday while I lived under my parents’ roof, so I figured I would just drive separately to church while my parents and siblings stayed behind for Sunday School. My mom taught Sunday School music, so I even offered to take Dad home with me! What a gem I was.

As quickly as my plan was made, it was vanquished by my parents. We lived 15 miles out of town, which would mean 30 miles of extra gas for a second vehicle to go to town and back again. Now, didn’t I think that was silly? I was then awarded two choices with what to do with my formerly-filled-by-Sunday-School hour.

            I could:

1.      Sit in the fellowship hall with Dad and “visit.” (And no, I could not bring a book and read in a corner.)

2.      Become a Sunday School teacher.

Let me first introduce you to the Midwestern idea of “visiting.” Contrary what you might think, you’re not visiting anyone. To have a visit with someone is a Midwesternism for a drawn-out small talk session. Rarely does “visiting” turn into a substantial conversation – it’s a whole lot of surface level nonsense in a block of time much longer than it needs to be. To “visit” with Dad would mean being subjected to an hour’s worth of chatter involving the weather, farming, who recently died, and – if I was lucky – how school was going.

Can you tell I’m not into “visiting”?

I decided I’d do pretty much anything before I’d subject myself to “visiting” every Sunday for the foreseeable future. I would become… a Sunday School teacher.

Another thing you must understand is my church was absolutely desperate for Sunday School teachers. I was 15, after all. I could’ve had an entire classroom to myself – anyone with a pulse could have – but I signed up to team-teach that year.

I don’t remember much about my first year of Sunday School teaching except I decided it was indeed better than visiting. I signed up to do it when I was a junior, and again as a senior.

My junior year was when my best high school friend Bob and I began our two years of team-teaching. We volunteered to teach third grade, which was the oldest grade you could get while still keeping your teaching time down to half-an-hour.

Bob and I put serious blood, sweat, and tears decorating our classroom. And it was a sight to behold. We had a jungle theme one year, and it could have been an actual jungle in there. We stapled giant green palm leaves to the ceiling and plastered the walls with construction paper animals. We made use out of anything and everything we could find in the Sunday School supply closet. We hung inflatable fish and old CDs from the ceiling with fishing wire. Our door was covered with that amazing paper you get off those gigantic rolls in schools, and our students’ names jumped out in colorful print. We snatched the spare bean bag chairs and placed those in our room. We found a little foam cutout of a dove and named it “Fernando” – our class mascot.

What did we teach? Honestly, I don’t have much of a clue. There was some kind of loose lesson plan we followed, but as neither of us were big on Bible lecturing, we often deferred to games and worksheets. Word finds, crossword puzzles, scavenger hunts, lots of drawing (self-portraits, imaginary animals, what does heaven look like), you name it. I’m pretty sure we even played Bible Hangman at one point.

Bob’s and my classroom was so colorful and welcoming, we found ourselves hanging out there after school. During my senior year, I can remember spending hours sitting on those bean bags and going over vocabulary for that week’s advanced biology test. My grade in that class wouldn’t have been near as good had it not been for that classroom.

Our classroom did not go unnoticed. Pastor Loren, who was the pastor at that church for my entire young life, absolutely LOVED it. It was a lot different than the other rooms, that’s no joke. He even made us a CD-ROM full of photos he took of the room and wrote us a letter telling us how great and “conducive to learning” he thought it was. High praise for a couple of teenagers with a stapler and no idea what they’re doing.

When I graduated high school, my Sunday School teaching days came to an end. I was relieved that I didn’t have to scrounge for activities from week to week, but I was going to miss it.

Every essay about teaching has to end with a “what teaching taught me” portion, so here’s mine. Teaching Sunday School taught me church volunteering could be fun, but only with your friends. It also taught me I was in no way cut out to be a real teacher. Important life lessons to be had.