How many of us have fond memories of Halloween, trick-or-treating in packs of 10, with maybe 1 to 2 chaperons, usually teenage siblings, in tow? I remember the excitement of the house a half-mile away that always had a crazy haunted house set-up that you had to go through to get to the witch with the candy (King size Hershey bars, no less). I remember the frustration when a house with lights on wouldn't open the door, and the joy when someone did answer, in an amazing costume or with a crazy party in the background. I remember the mystery of the candy - sometimes money or toys. My favourite was Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but sometimes you got something new and unusual - like rice candy or home made cookies.
I remember all that, and I feel pity for the children of the last decade.
I think it began when I was in high school with all those urban myths about poison candy. Suddenly, children were advised to not take home-made goodies, because someone might be handing out strychnine laden cookies, without a care of how easy they would be to trace. Then they couldn't eat their candy before getting home, so that their parents could check to make sure the wrappers weren't tampered with - because child-murderers hold in their animus all year to let loose on Halloween!
When I was finally old enough to stay home and hand out candy (at least, that's how I saw it), my mom was grateful to have some help. That first year, I barely got more than 10 minutes to myself between Trick-or-Treaters between 6.30pm and 9pm. We had no candy leftover.
Sometime between then, and now, people became scared of Halloween, and not in the fun way. For years, we kept buying tons of candy, and then we'd be forced to eat it ourselves over the next month.
In 2006, I lived in Van Nuys, California. On Halloween night, my roommate at the time was going to some huge party in West Hollywood, but I declined to go along because his friends seemed like douches. I was all set to spend the evening watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my giant bowl of fun-size candy, dressed as a zombie. I thought I might get 2 or 3 Trick-or-Treaters, but Oh was I wrong!
That night, I blasted through all the candy reserves (my roommate, having lived there in years past, was prepared). There were teenagers not even in costume! There were young mothers with babies in strollers! And of course, adorable children in fairy and ninja costumes. It was amazing.
Last night, I rushed around, last minute, trying to get some candy. It's the first year since Van Nuys when I have lived in a house. I've always thought that having candy on Halloween was one of the most important responsibilities of home-ownership (or home-rentership). I considered making cookies, to cut down on candy-related trash, but I know how paranoid people are about that now. So I went to Cost Plus and picked up some Botan Rice-Candy and Kinder Chocolates. I got home just as dark fell. Crayon was dressed as Dracula, I was dressed as his victim. I put candles on the front porch, drew scary bats on our punkins, and waited.
Our only visitors were the children from next door.
Someone posted on Facebook last night how when they went out, people answered the door just to say they weren't giving out candy. It's a sad cycle. Children don't come, so people don't have candy ready. So the children who do come get disappointed.
And it makes me wonder, why is Halloween still so alive in Van Nuys? Van Nuys is a predominately Hispanic community, and I wonder if the nature of ethnic communities makes the residents more trusting of each other, more like actual communities. I talk to my neighbours, but not everyone does (I'm looking at you, people across the street who won't even make eye-contact).
I'm also reminded of a few years ago, when I went back to my home town and stopped to look at my childhood home. Boyfriend and I took a picture for my parents, because it had changed so. Then we walked to the park that was my favourite childhood haunt. When we walked back to our car, we were stopped by the police.
Fearful suburbanites had reported hippies taking photographs.
The residents of the house were most abashed when they learned that I, too, was once a middle-class house dweller. Their excuse? A car was broken into a week ago. The neighbourhood had become "dangerous." So, of COURSE they had to assume that we had a nefarious purpose for taking a photograph of a house in broad daylight.
I guess my conclusion is this: talk to your neighbors. Share cake recipes or whatever. We need to remember that we all live on these streets together, and that it is extremely unlikely that the couple down the street will try to murder your children any day of the year, much less Halloween.
Let your children have fun again. I cannot, in my wildest imagination, think that getting candy from minimum wage workers in a fluorescent-lit mall is anywhere near the same experience.
I remember all that, and I feel pity for the children of the last decade.
I think it began when I was in high school with all those urban myths about poison candy. Suddenly, children were advised to not take home-made goodies, because someone might be handing out strychnine laden cookies, without a care of how easy they would be to trace. Then they couldn't eat their candy before getting home, so that their parents could check to make sure the wrappers weren't tampered with - because child-murderers hold in their animus all year to let loose on Halloween!
When I was finally old enough to stay home and hand out candy (at least, that's how I saw it), my mom was grateful to have some help. That first year, I barely got more than 10 minutes to myself between Trick-or-Treaters between 6.30pm and 9pm. We had no candy leftover.
Sometime between then, and now, people became scared of Halloween, and not in the fun way. For years, we kept buying tons of candy, and then we'd be forced to eat it ourselves over the next month.
In 2006, I lived in Van Nuys, California. On Halloween night, my roommate at the time was going to some huge party in West Hollywood, but I declined to go along because his friends seemed like douches. I was all set to spend the evening watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my giant bowl of fun-size candy, dressed as a zombie. I thought I might get 2 or 3 Trick-or-Treaters, but Oh was I wrong!
That night, I blasted through all the candy reserves (my roommate, having lived there in years past, was prepared). There were teenagers not even in costume! There were young mothers with babies in strollers! And of course, adorable children in fairy and ninja costumes. It was amazing.
Last night, I rushed around, last minute, trying to get some candy. It's the first year since Van Nuys when I have lived in a house. I've always thought that having candy on Halloween was one of the most important responsibilities of home-ownership (or home-rentership). I considered making cookies, to cut down on candy-related trash, but I know how paranoid people are about that now. So I went to Cost Plus and picked up some Botan Rice-Candy and Kinder Chocolates. I got home just as dark fell. Crayon was dressed as Dracula, I was dressed as his victim. I put candles on the front porch, drew scary bats on our punkins, and waited.
Our only visitors were the children from next door.
Someone posted on Facebook last night how when they went out, people answered the door just to say they weren't giving out candy. It's a sad cycle. Children don't come, so people don't have candy ready. So the children who do come get disappointed.
And it makes me wonder, why is Halloween still so alive in Van Nuys? Van Nuys is a predominately Hispanic community, and I wonder if the nature of ethnic communities makes the residents more trusting of each other, more like actual communities. I talk to my neighbours, but not everyone does (I'm looking at you, people across the street who won't even make eye-contact).
I'm also reminded of a few years ago, when I went back to my home town and stopped to look at my childhood home. Boyfriend and I took a picture for my parents, because it had changed so. Then we walked to the park that was my favourite childhood haunt. When we walked back to our car, we were stopped by the police.
Fearful suburbanites had reported hippies taking photographs.
The residents of the house were most abashed when they learned that I, too, was once a middle-class house dweller. Their excuse? A car was broken into a week ago. The neighbourhood had become "dangerous." So, of COURSE they had to assume that we had a nefarious purpose for taking a photograph of a house in broad daylight.
I guess my conclusion is this: talk to your neighbors. Share cake recipes or whatever. We need to remember that we all live on these streets together, and that it is extremely unlikely that the couple down the street will try to murder your children any day of the year, much less Halloween.
Let your children have fun again. I cannot, in my wildest imagination, think that getting candy from minimum wage workers in a fluorescent-lit mall is anywhere near the same experience.
Brilliant.
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