Halloween in a Handbasket

Halloween… ain’t what she used to be…. for good or ill. Is it just the neighbourhood or the changing times? When taking The Boy out for trick’or’treating, I experienced a vague yet bitter disappointment in the severe lack of festivity.

I remember my childhood:

  • throngs of children covering the streets
  • cars unable to get down the road for the crowds and fire crackers
  • parents huddled in groups at the end of each driveway with their travel mugs of hot chocolate/coffee/whiskey
  • doors perpetually stuck open because endless streams of children keep parading up the front steps
  • the sky filled with the smoke of fireworks as groups of once-strangers crowded on front lawns to watch the latest gunpowder-driven display
  • passing other motley gangs of kids in the street, and exchanging tips in excited voices: ‘house on the corner – bags of chips!’ or ‘green house is giving out full size chocolate bars’ or the best news in the world when you’ve already trekked a mile: ‘JUICE BOXES!’.

My family continues our regular traditions: chili for dinner, both followed and preceded by stealing candy from the trick’or’treater bowl; Dad carving his epic Renaissance-worthy masterpiece on a lumpy pumpkin; costumes wrenched on in great haste (if their construction is even complete); and a scary movie or four.

In recent times, this has been accompanied somewhere in the festivities by the addition of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which The Boy (all of two-years-old) loves. Frank’N’Furter left him transfixed, he loved Eddie (“Ashleigh, a motorbike! ASH! ASH! MOTORBIKE, MOTORBIKE!”), and danced throughout to his little heart’s content. Later, his excitement was only exceeded by running from door-to-door, which only impressed upon me the true value of Halloween: free candy.

Oh Halloween.

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