Halloween is for kids and people who have kids and people who know people who have kids.
We have exactly one local friend who has a Halloween aged child and, my friends, that’s simply not good enough for me to stock candy that I’d likely end up eating half of anyway. No, I’m skipping Halloween this year. I’m sure it will be just fine without me.
Halloweens past have been largely a letdown. One year I dressed up as a very authentic witch and scared half of the nine or ten kids who trick-or-treated at our house that night. The first child to arrive – a small, fuzzy bear in his Mother’s arms – burst into tears and the dogs kept barking every time someone rang the doorbell despite the door being wide open and all of the lights on. The gap between children was so long that I would finally settle onto the couch just in time to hear footsteps and voices on the approach. I’d leap from my resting place just a few steps from the door but I’d never make it before a small finger pressed the doorbell, sending the pooches into a frenzy of protective shouts. All the while I just wished it would end because my 2:30 am wake-up call beckoned. No, no trick or treating for me. I’m going to darken the house and stay at the back, reading by candlelight.
And while we’re on the subject, who stole the ‘ from Halloween? When I was a kid, it had a ‘ in it, as in Hallowe’en. It looked spookier, written that way. Then one day, the ‘ was gone, just like half the candy in the trick or treat bowl.