A Halloween Carol, Part 1

I’m neck deep in “mid”s. Mid-aged me driving a mid-size rental car through mid-Michigan. Temperatures in the mid-50s. Mid-weekend (Sunday morning). Mid-October. You can just call me Middy.

Actually, call her Middy, because that’s her name. She’s the lead facialist at Soaring Eagle’s Casino & Resort. Like me, she’s in her mid-40s, but Father Time and Father Class – our two dads – have had very different ways with us. Class dictates the general outlines of our appearances, with an assist from Midwife Gender, who is a trickster!

I’m a well-preserved middle-aged man-child with an expensive haircut and all my hair, which is dyed orange. No wrinkles, reasonable shape, about 15 lbs overweight. Which looks like more on my diminutive 5´0˝ frame. I always wear the same navy blue suit, but I change the shirts and ties most days. The lack of outdoor work exposure is written all of over my smooth, age-defying face. The good men and women of Mount Pleasant all pause as I walk into the room, the main casino floor, and ask where to get my Pumpkin Facial.

*****

In the sanctuary of the spa, Middy is washing her hands and humming along with the traditional Native American drum music playing softly from two speakers in the corners.

She’s got the standard-issue Bo-Rics sensible haircut, a ladies’ brushcut, really; frosted fakely. Bride of Frankenmuth. She’s taller than me and about 40 lbs overweight, but who’s counting? Her frames were free with the eyeglass prescription. White Keds. Stretch pants. Halloween-motif sweater with baby ghosts, scarecrows, “cute” (not scary) witches, bunnies dressed up as goblins, candy pieces and pumpkins with devilish grins dancing all the way around Middy’s solid, midwestern mid-riff. Hard, chapped, farmeress hands, simple oxidized bronze wedding band growing into the flesh on her ring finger. She breathes audibly as she stands over the sink. Through her mouth.

Because people don’t breath through their noses in Michigan. It is too cold, your mucous membranes up there freeze and you can die of nose hemorrhages. Most of the first settlers died of nosebleeds in their sleep, they just bled out in their sleep. That is the reason the northern midwestern accent is so “nasally.” Noses are closed for business! Permanently. Like the Ford’s plant where Harv and Shirl worked until last spring.

Middy, who looks like she is in her 60s, even though her casino-issued name tag clearly states her full name (Marlidden K. Jakob) and age (43), lights a pumpkin spice candle with one of those lighters that looks like a tiny, slim DustBuster that spits flames.

“There, how’s that?” She is referring to the pumpkiny, spicy fumes. “Real good.”

As we exchange the traditional pleasantries, she takes out a large carving knife and begins to saw a hole in the top of the pie pumpkin in her hand. Those are the smaller kind of pumpkin, the ones you use to make pumpkin pie

She carves out the “lid” with its pumpkin seeds dangling in their stringy orange viscous pumpkin matter. Holding the lid by its stem handle, she begins rubbing those pumpkin guts all over my face and neck with brisk circular motions, and I feel sleepy and contented.

*****

I simply had to turn off the highway when I saw the blinking orange digital display advertising Pumpkin Facials at the casino. I had no choice. Because Halloween is very important to me, and so are my fading looks that I’m trying to keep. This is the ultimate way to get up close and personal with the season: En-pie-ing your face in pumpkin, letting the fruits of the pumpkin patch nourish you from the outside in. You are literally diving face-first into the spirit of autumn, letting it coat your face.

Middy is looming over me spackling my cheeks, forehead, and chins with the pumpkin meat. She piles it on like it’s going out of style. My head sinks deeper into the pillow under the sheer weight of this facial. As soon as she is done doing this – taking care not to get any in my eyes! – she carefully places a fresh jack-o-lantern over my head (the bottom has been carved out), making sure the eyeholes are in line with my eyes. Now it has to set for a while. I close my eyes.

To pass the time, she begins telling me a story.

*****

[Read Part 2 here...]

TAGS: Casinos • Halloween • Michigan • Native American Spirituality • Pumpkin Facials