Defending the Faith (Trick or Treat)

Okay, I think I qualify as a Defender of the Faith when it comes to my pet holiday. I hear people talk about trick-or-treating in past tense, as in 'Remember when you could go trick-or-treating in your neighborhood?'

News flash: You still can. Well, maybe not in the neighborhood I used to live in, where some of the people who came to the door were old enough to legally drink and were likely as not to make a grab for the whole bowl of candy if you were chump enough to hold it out for them to pick.



I dressed up for work, my hippie-pirate getup, and I was the only one. I even heard, 'This is a place of business,' though from someone who is mainly known for honing her joylessness.



Here in Mayberry, life is good. I observe all the old conventions I remember from my own childhood: if the porch light isn't on, don't bother them; don't go too far from home, you want to mainly hit people you more or less know; teenagers are too old to go begging for candy; nobody is too old to dress up; the whole 'trick' thing is a joke, not backed up by any real threat of vandalism or violence...



Some of our neighbors really got the holiday spirit out. I'm jealous of people who have the whole Halloween decoration aisle in their front yard.



Mo had a cold, and I think it really slowed her down, though not so much that we didn't hit the houses. The Great Mall was next on the agenda, though, and when I asked her to go to the bathroom so we could head there, she stripped while on the throne and said, 'Tuck you in?' Translation: I've had fun, Dad, but I'm way too fagged out to do the mall.



We also had a good, legit startle for the girls. We were approaching the front door of a house and I thought to myself, They really did a good job on that scarecrow. It was a goblin-headed thing, but not lumpy and out of proportion like most scarecrows.



When we were about four steps from the porch, he turned his head to us and waved. Em about jumped out of her Rainbow Fairy wings. This was the same house that produced the Snow Punk, and this only made me happier to count them as neighbors.



I did hear at least one comment that 'we're getting all sizes,' which I take to mean my kids appear too old for the ritual. They're ten and eleven, at the old end of the range, I'll grant you, but not too old. Seventh Grade, that's the cut-off in my mind. It's not my fault that my daughters are Amazons, both over five feet tall. Okay, maybe it is my fault since I was six feet tall and shaving by the time I hit junior high. They didn't get those genes from the Artist Formerly Known as Frau Lobster.




Getting back to the whole question of defending the faith: I believe Halloween, and in particular trick-or-treating, is to important to give up out of paranoia. Which is what is working against it. Even when I was a kid (when the plains were black with buffalo), my parents felt the need to inspect my haul of candy for signs of razor blades and needles. They never found any, of course, because that was mostly an urban myth even then. Snopes claims there are about eighty cases of it since 1959, making it about as statistically likely as people handing out bundles of hundred dollar bills.

And why are people afraid to trick-or-treat with their kids? Because they don't know their neighbors. But this is exactly the kind of social ritual that puts you in contact with your neighbors.



I am, by the way, bummed that Daylight Savings Time got extended into November. I think it's supposed to save energy, but I'm not sure how. Most people seem to use artificial light indoors no matter the time of day. I know I do. It did get dark while we trick-or-treated, but it was weird heading out in broad daylight.

Now, what to do with all this freakin' candy?