I have never had much of an affinity for Halloween. Perhaps as a child; but even then, the idea of dressing in costume to traipse through the neighborhood, door to door, essentially begging for candy from complete strangers always seemed a bit of a strange tradition to me.
I recall writing a column along those lines several years ago, one met with a mild degree of hostility from readers who felt I was inherently spoiling all the fun of childhood by expressing my misinformed opinions on a topic of which they were apparently the anointed experts. Funny, how quickly the adults tend to become the tantrum-throwing juveniles in times when commonly held opinions are called into question.
Don’t get me wrong—there is nothing objectionable with dressing up in costume and indulging in some chocolates. It’s more the concept of this forced procession through the streets, often in the dark of night, to ring the doorbells of those who may or may not be eager to participate in the festivities. Add to that mix the teens armed with their raw eggs, shaving cream and silly string and, well, what exactly is the point of this holiday again?
It’s funny, but my fondest memories of Halloween come not from the tradition of trick-or-treating, but rather from the days of hosting “Safe Halloween” back at my old high school, as we handed out candy from the confines of our thematically decorated hallways and classrooms to adorably costumed children, accompanied by their equally joyful parents. As students, we competed against the other clubs for best decor—and we went all out for the occasion.
Every door knocked on was opened, and every smiling 6-year-old was greeted by an enthusiastic teen in costume, eager to provide a lasting memory for a little tyke. There were games, raffle prizes, and of course the standard assortment of confectionary tokens. At the end of the allotted hours of operation, every child went home with a bucket full of treats, and perhaps a few photos with the costumed characters on hand (to be developed at a later date).
Nowadays, I tend to avoid the holiday altogether, buying a few bags of my favorite candy, and then indulging in them on my own over the course of the next several weeks. Alright, days. I’m seldom home before nightfall, and honestly, if someone is ringing my bell at 10 o’clock, you can rest assured I’m not answering. Sure, I miss seeing the tiny pumpkins and princesses—but these days, it seems even the costumes have gone from adorably innocent to, well, not so much.
Halloween, as I see it, was envisioned as a day for us all to be able to indulge in a little youthful fun, to recapture those times when it was safe to wander around the block unsupervised, when creativity ruled costume creation, and when inspecting the ingredients on the candy bar wrapper wasn’t a prerequisite to consuming it.
Those were the days, indeed. If only we could return to them.
Published: October 31, 2018