Once upon a time, when I was young and wanted to be goth, Halloween was the ultimate, the knees of the bee, the meow of the cat. Okay, I’m not quite that old. But Halloween was cool.
Then I got older and Halloween became a mere pain in the ass. Where we used to live, “Trick or Treat” was an understatement. Forget toilet paper. Those kids used spray paint, but never on our house. I always insisted on giving out good candy. It worked.
Ten years ago we moved back to the land of my birth, Los Angeles. If you ever have the opportunity, you must spend Halloween evening on Hollywood Boulevard. It’s indescribably, bizarrely wonderful. We don’t do it anymore because of the little dog, but it’s great.
Tonight we stayed home and gave out candy. Yes, the good stuff, though I had to run to the store because three jumbo packages weren’t enough. The multitudes invaded. Vans (one stopped right in front of our house) disgorged groups of mostly adults with some kids. The adults were in costume, with bags of their own. At one point two grandmothers with bags accompanied a single child. We heard one person say, “This is a nice neighborhood, I’ve never been here before.”
The cynic in me would have snorted. I couldn’t, because of Robert (aka @AlphonseBunter.) He had more fun giving out candy than the greediest child did taking it. For the first time since I stopped dressing up, Halloween was cool again. My mother was here too. Although I became the default designated adult, between the two of them they brought back the magic of the holiday. As I type this, I’m keeping one eye on the window in case the Great Pumpkin flies by.
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we had ONE pair of trick or treaters (two actual children, unaccompanied). that's more than i had in all the years i lived in the purple house. we even left the porch light on, something i never did in those years there. but no takers (except the pair). i guess everyone van-pooled over to your neighborhood instead. shucks darn.
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