Yes, it’s that time of year again. I’ll say this again, as I get older, there’s less and less appeal for Halloween. No, I don’t dress up any more. I haven’t for sixty-plus years. I’ve mentioned this before, but for my colorful neighbor, this is the high point of her year. She has elaborate costumes and hangs all kinds of spider webs and lighting to entertain the visiting gremlins. It’s like a really creepy Christmas display in oranges. For Her Ladyship and myself, the excitement has long gone. I can’t always conceal my lack of enthusiasm. The smile and warmth at the front door are entirely fake. Really just want to say, “Take the candy and go away.” The pandemic, which was, of course, horrific, did have a tiny silver lining. It was, for me at least, a welcome respite from all of the Halloween activities.
What about pumpkins – should I or shouldn’t I? How long will they survive in the wilds of my front steps. If I put them out when they first hit the markets, the chipmunks and squirrels will consider them a holiday buffet, making us look more like a scene from “Grey Gardens”. If I put out attractive swags of Indian corn, the birds will have stripped them bare in short order. Even the mums that I put out in pots are starting to look just a little past their prime. The blossoms have gone from festive yellows and deep reds to, well, dead brown. And, while I got out my mighty leaf blower to tidy up a day or two ago, they’ve all blown back in again. That’s an exercise in futility until every leaf has fallen. It’s that in-between season where the fall colors are just past peak and starting to fade or windblown onto the back deck, the days are cooler, and I turn up the heat surreptitiously until Herself comments, “Is it hot in here?”
It’s possible that I’ve mentioned this before, but we live in a large condominium complex in the heart of town. So, every parent in Southern New Hampshire seems to be bringing their little ones here for “trick or treating”. Some years, I feel it would easier if we parked a dump truck loaded with candy bars by the front entrance and told the army of tiny invaders to just help themselves. It’s too much. One year, I was bringing in dinner for Her Ladyship and myself when an early pirate and ballerina arrived at the front door early and distracted me. I tripped over the table I’d set up with the candy, went sprawling, spreading the remains of our dinner over what seemed like square miles. I spent the rest of Halloween in Urgent Care having my hand stitched up. That was definitely one of the less successful trick-or-treating events.
Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like the price of candy is being set by oil company executives, or perhaps those people selling gold coins on tv. A few years ago, I’d get a couple of big bags of assorted candy bars for about $20. The other day in the grocery store, they were selling bags roughly a quarter of what I’d need, for $25. In the past, the leftover candy boosted my blood sugar levels nicely, but now, that’s not really a problem. Last year, I ran out about a half hour before the closing whistle. There is the dual dilemma, too. If I buy too early and stock up, I start eating it. As my grandfather used to say, “I can resist anything but temptation.” One or two, here and there until – crap, I have to go get more. Or, I resist the temptation to buy early and wait, in which case, the stores have all moved on to turkeys and cranberry sauce.
Our first house was in a nice, older neighborhood. The previous owners, for whatever reasons, they said religious, shut off the lights and locked the doors on Halloween. They wanted nothing to do with Halloween, despite having several small children. On our first one there, we had the the porch lights on and were distributing candy at a brisk pace when I heard one parent out on the street say, “Wow. Never expected to see that house lit up.” My thoughts went to an Addams Family-type house that you see in outline when the moon comes up. Did our house leave that impression in the neighborhood? Her Ladyship taught at the neighborhood elementary school, and eventually became its principal, so that helped dispel the house’s stand-off reputation.
When I was little, we lived in a suburban neighborhood outside Boston. That, of course, was in the days when children went out in clusters by themselves, and it was relatively safe. No sharp objects inserted into candy bars. In fact, it was even safe to take homemade treats like candied apples and such. Yes, for you younger readers, there was such a time. Your parents only went with you if you were under about four. We’d get all dressed up and hit homes in the immediate area. An older lady that took care of us when my sister was born was a highly accomplished seamstress, and made elaborate costumes for us. I particularly remember clown costumes, complete with pointed hats. My sister’s first year getting dressed to go out, she was a cowgirl wearing an outfit our older brother had sent from Arizona. She made it as far as the front door when my friend Gary arrived wearing a ghost costume. She started to wail, and spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, occasionally poking her head around the corner when non-threatening treaters came to the door. My mother used to tell of the year that the teenagers from next door, and who regularly babysat for us, somehow took me with them, and their turf was a much wider swath of the neighborhood. So, while my brother and sister came back early with modest bags of loot, I went far and wide with Peter and Barbara. My bag was bulging, but my mother, who tended to fear the worst, was sure that I was either dead in a ditch or had been kidnapped. She was, as I recall, ready to contact the police and put together a search party when I arrived home, not thinking anything was amiss. By the time I was in third grade, I’d walk by myself downtown to the barber shop, but that didn’t happen at night. I remember a candy-filled post-Halloween that included regular lectures on safety and going off without telling anyone. The worst part, to my young perspective, was that I had to share my additional loot with my brother and sister. I know, right? I’d expected it to last until well past Thanksgiving.
My feeling now is that many of the Halloween trappings are a bit outdated. Our community typically has a three-hour window in which the young folk can wander from house to house. It drags on, and seems about two hours too long. One year, town officials moved the day up, for whatever reason, and caught me totally off guard. I had to run to the store and get whatever I could. I almost felt like Rachel, on an episode on “Friends”, when she has no candy, so she’s writing checks to the kids knocking at the door. Giving out candy has become rather a nuisance. One year, I had to be out-of-town attending the wedding of one of my teachers. I know what you’re thinking – who plans a wedding on Halloween? But Halloween fell on a Sunday that year, so ok. Her Ladyship wasn’t up to getting up and going to the door every ten seconds, so I set up an attractive bowl of candy with a sign on the front porch. Upon my return, I found the candy, the bowl, and the sign all gone. Only the tray table on which I’d put everything, and the pumpkins on the steps were still there. I’m guessing that the first to show up dumped the whole bowl into their bag, and took the rest to conceal the evidence of their misdeed. That tells you what we’ve become. The first hour is ok – the little ones in their costumes, are so excited, with their parents standing nearby, and I have to say that almost all say “thank you”, with only the littlest ones needing a prompt. Courtesy is not dead. It appears once a year on cue. Heading into the last hour, it’s the middle school and, occasionally, few late blooming high school students. They are shamelessly without even the pretext. Maybe a little make-up, a wig with jeans and sweatshirts. If they’re really getting into the spirit, they’ll add a baseball cap. They’re in it for free candy – they know it, their friends know it, and we know it.
So, as the world has changed, perhaps in the interests of safety, health, and totally disrupting my evening, it’s time to rethink this tradition. Even schools have been phasing out Halloween parties and costume parades in the interests of “time on task”, or as I call it, “snuffing out fun” in the schools. Which is sad, because that would be the ideal place to control the consumption of sweets and celebrate the holiday without wandering the streets at night. It makes sense to transfer our activities to the daytime, ever though it will lack the nighttime, full moon scariness. And I can return to our regular programming.
I'm Thinking...No! 