Rick’s Rants and Raves

Halloween is such a wonderfully odd holiday. We spend $0.35 a pound on pumpkins as decoration. We use sharp knives to carve faces or designs in the pumpkins. We dress our kids up in costumes of their choosing (and in Emily’s case, of her own making). We send our kids into the neighborhood to get treats from strangers. On any other day we’d severely admonish our kids for accepting candy from strangers, immediately throw the candy in the trash, and report the suspicious activity to the authorities.   People we’ve never met before come to our door, expecting candy or treats of some kind. And in large part, we oblige them. Sometimes, even the adults dress up.

Last year Anne decided to start a precedent: older kids who didn’t make some attempt at a costume didn’t get candy. One parent of a teenager ended up yelling at Anne from the sidewalk because of Anne’s refusal of candy to a teenager.

This year I handed out candy as Anne went with the kids. I maintained the precedent of refusing candy on these rather hastily constructed grounds: kids obviously over 12 had to be in costume (or mask, or something) to get candy. If their costume wasn’t obvious to me, I asked “What are you dressed up as?” If they didn’t have a quick answer more original than “myself” or “a kid” I shooed them off the porch.

The first kid to whom I denied candy had replied “I’m dressed up like that guy when he was 17!” as he pointed at his dad on the sidewalk. His dad laughed and told him he’d been too old last year. “Busted” the dad called. The kid was good natured and walked away.

I turned away probably 10-12 kids out of the hundred or so who requested candy. All of them were surprised. Most of them were reasonable about it. One 14 year old complained to his dad in a petulant whiny voice “He won’t give me any candy ’cause I ain’t got no costume!” His dad replied “Come on. You don’t need to beg for candy. I don’t get it, but you don’t need to beg.” The kid stood on the step of my porch fat and dumbfounded that I wouldn’t give him candy. I gave candy to other kids as he stood there, then waved him off my porch.

The other people who drive me crazy on Halloween–folks who take their infants trick-or-treating. One couple had twins less than a year old, in strollers, in little pumpkin onesies. They came up, pushing their kids in front of them, and said “trick or treat”. There were no other kids with them. They were collecting candy for children for whom the candy would be dangerous. Dangerous. I assumed, based on the weight of the parents, that they would do the right thing and eat the candy themselves. Another quarter-ton mother, after I’d given candy to the rest of her brood, shoved a bag at me with the explanation “its for the one in the stroller”. Yeah, um, of course.

Shortly before the close of beggars’ night, another teen came up to the door. I stepped out, using my best Tyler Durden cool voice “Hey man.” “Hey” was his reply, not really looking at me. After a difficult pause (which I enjoyed) I prodded “What goin’ on?” “Just out gettin some candy.” “Oh yeah? What are you dressed up as?” He pointed at his shirt, thought, dropped his hand, and said “Nothin’ really.” “Good luck with that.” “Yeah, thanks,” he said sheepishly, and walked away.

My last beggar of the night? Petulant whiny fat boy. He walks up as I’m blowing out the candles in the pumpkins. “You already came here.” “Yeah, and you didn’t give me any candy.” “Because you aren’t dressed up.” “He’s a rapper” his dad calls from the sidewalk. “I’m a rapper” petulant boy exclaims. I gave him a box of milk duds. Pathetic. How humiliating.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a scrooge with the candy. I talk to the kids who are dressed up. I try to guess at the interesting ones. I tell all the princesses they’re beautiful. I talk about hair-care with the werewolves.  I wave and smile to the parents who call up “Thank you”. I play with the middle schoolers saying “Merry Halloween” and “Happy New Year”. I try to scare the older kids just a bit, but I take my mask off for any kid that shows the slightest hesitation. But the kids who are too cool to dress up are too cool to get my candy. Sorry, I’m saving it for the kids who are trying just a little bit.