Ghost-O-Grams: A Woman’s Journey Through Candy, Teenagers, and Personal Discovery

“Alright...everybody grab your buckets and huddle up. Listen up.”

Surrounding me are four students, two boys and two girls. Their youthful faces convey a sense of seriousness and an eagerness to start the process.

“Here are the two most important things I’m sending you out there with. #1. Classroom Etiquette. Do not simply barge into classrooms. Slowly and gently open the door, get the teacher’s permission and then proceed. #2. Return with empty buckets only. Let me say that once again. Return to my office with empty buckets only! Nothing...I mean nothing...should be left in those buckets. Is everyone clear? Now go! Godspeed!”

This is the moment I dread. When I no longer have control. They’re out there. They’re all out there and I’m in here...just waiting. Just waiting for something to go wrong. Fucking Ghost-O-Grams.

What are Ghost-O-Grams you ask? Oh, well, let me just fill you in on one of the true horrors of my life. A Ghost-O-Gram is a bag filled with Halloween candy...or just candy decorated in Halloween wrappers. The easy description is this. My high school students pay $1.00 that goes to a local charity to buy a friend or teacher a Ghost-O-Gram that then gets delivered by other high school students on Halloween during their classes. In theory, it’s a fun and spirited activity (for those who receive them, of course). For the organizer...AKA...myself, this involves lack of sleep, intestinal malfunctions, and uncontrollable trembling.

Allow me to guide you through the steps...a journey, if you will, into the world of Ghost-O-Grams.

 “Fuck! It’s September 20th which means that Michael’s is probably already out of the candy bags. You should’ve gone earlier, you stupid bitch. Oh my god! We have that weird schedule. Oh, the one that takes 9th, 11th and 12th grade students away for three days when normally you’d have them here to help you? Yeah, that weird schedule. Okay, don’t panic. You can figure this out. They make the bags at home! Brilliant. But will they remember? They’ll remember. You’re okay. Just breathe. Where’s my fucking orange card stock??? I know I saw a ream of it. Or did I get rid of it in the office move in June? Would I have thrown it out? No. Would I? If it’s not here then I have to go to Staples. Please be in this cabinet! Please be smart enough to have kept it in this cabinet right under the printer. Yes! Here it is. Okay, we’re good. I just need 150 copies and I’m good to go. The fucking bypass tray isn’t working in the copy machine. Are you serious? You can’t even make one copy without jamming? Why the fuck do you have a bypass tray if it doesn’t fucking work? Now I have to be that teacher who’s on her hands and knees trying to find the jammed paper. Okay, I see it. And, I ripped it in half. Because it’s stuck. I hate my life. Calm down. There are three other machines on campus. Just go to each one. None of them work. How is this possible? Why even have a fucking bypass tray if you’re not going to work? Okay, think. Kinkos makes copies. Does Kinkos still exist? Have I seen a Kinkos recently? Staples. Staples makes copies. I’ll take them to Staples. When? When am I going to take them to Staples? Wait, I see a maintenance person from the copy machine company. She’s leading a training! Thank you great lord above. ‘Please help me!’ I beg her. ‘I’ll just run these off for you.’ She says. Thank you copier lady! Okay, we’re good. God damnit! These kids didn’t write the classroom on their orders! I guess it doesn’t mean anything when I tell them five times to make sure they write the classroom on their orders. Now I have to look them up. When am I going to look them up? Yay! A student is going to look them up. Love her! Okay, it’s delivery day. This will all be over soon. Oh no! These grams are in the wrong bucket! Are they all in the wrong bucket? Now I have to go through every bucket. Why does this always happen? Where are my student deliverers? It’s 8:16! They were supposed to be here at 8:15. Now they’ll never get delivered. Okay, they’re here. We’re good.”

And scene.

I’ve been doing the Ghost-O-Grams for over 10 years now as the Community Service Director at a private school in Santa Monica and every year, it goes just like this. You’d think I’d get better at it. That it would come a bit easier each year. And yet, I can never seem to shake the mother load of fear that someone out there won’t receive their Ghost-O-Gram. It’s embarrassing even to admit that this is what it all boils down to. I mean, really? Some 15 year old isn’t going to get their candy gram delivered and what, they’re going to show up in my office and beat the shit out of me? The editor of the school newspaper is going to slam me for not making sure everyone got them? Actually, that last one does terrify me because it could actually happen. You can’t get anything by these kids. So is it about reputation? Is it about failure? Is it about public failure? Of course it is. This has been the theme of my life ever since I hit 40. The more I think about it, I may actually be more afraid of private failure...although public failure is pretty fucking awful. Having to sit there with yourself and admit, “Wow, that was an epic fail. I really sucked. It didn’t work.” That feeling for me is equivalent to purgatory. I will do everything in my power to avoid that feeling. Which must be why I get so crazy over these things. That’s the core of what this is about. Man, these epiphanies are just flying out of my ass!

The truth is, there have been years when someone didn’t get their Ghost-O-Gram. Maybe two people. And I fixed it, immediately. And I wasn’t publicly scorned or stoned or pelted with food. I just fixed it.

And now, as I wait for my student deliverers to return with their empty buckets (please god), I trust that I will be able to right the wrongs. I’ve got extra candy bags, extra order forms...I’m good to go. For Christ’s sake, I’m talking about a fucking Ghost-O-Gram over here!

Hali Morell is a teacher, writer, actress, and knitter of scarves. She lives in Southern California with her husband and beloved cat, Louie. She co-founded "The Missing Peace: Self-Discovery Through Storytelling" with her partner, Robin Hanson, where she helps folks tell and celebrate their personal stories. To sign-up for The Missing Peace workshops and salons or read more of Hali's memoir, click the links.