Friday, November 14, 2003

Trick or Treat, Hoosiers!

How do Hoosiers celebrate Halloween? Well in my gentrifiying neighborhood it is a thoroughly disturbing tale.

First off, I don’t generally consider myself to be an uber-Puritan, but I have never warmed to this holiday. No, it isn’t the fact that this formerly sweet, pagan holiday has been so dry-cleaned and air-brushed by the forces of international capitalism that it is now a significant component of America’s GNP. What gets me is how it makes me an accessory to the crime of harming little kids’ teeth. I have visions of them eating my sweets, getting all whacked out by the sugar high, and then forgetting to brush their teeth that night and thus getting a fearsome cavity a week or so later. Midway through the evening I got the bright idea that I should simply show them pictures of decaying teeth and rotten gums. I was told by my better half that this was unacceptable behavior.

Happily, all was not gloom that evening; some friends came by and brought with them the makings of a small party. This calmed my spirits considerably until I realized that at some point I was doling out candy and holding a drink at the same time. The sight of a man holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a bag of Milk Duds in the other might seem...well...a bit disturbing to you, oh gentle NPR listener, but it did not seem to faze the little troopers who came to my door. My hunch is that they have seen far worse.

What kind of trick or treaters came to my house? Well in addition to the requisite monsters and princesses, one little girl came in a beautiful Pocohantas outfit. Her accompanying mother told me that she had made the costume for her daughter and she was so happy over how it looked on the little tyke I thought she would burst into tears. I probably should have offered her a beer to calm her maternal nerves. Anyway, the scene got to me because the child was equally proud of her costume and loved her mom so much. As they were walking away it dawned on me that the kid probably nagged the mom for days on end about how she wanted to be a little Indian, courtesy of the ideas propagated by Mr. Disney. My emotional balance took another dive when a short time later, and as I was throwing more of those damned Milk Duds into kids’ bags, I watched a woman pull up in front of my house, get out of her car, grab a pillow case, and run up my walk. Need I add that she was not wearing a costume? Maybe she left it in the trunk. In any case, I gave her some Milk Duds and wished her well. This was soon followed by a dad who brought his kid up my front porch while smoking a joint. Happy Halloween dude! By this time the night was getting on; when I asked one young man what his costume was, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cell phone, and said that he was a pimp and that he was calling on one of his hoes. Batman and the Hulk were now replaced by 15 year olds with beard growth and little interest in being sweet when they rang my doorbell.

The dispiriting highlight of the evening occurred when a not so young Halloweener rang my door bell. While she was clearly older than the other punks and thugs who were now at my door, I took to her because she was wearing a mask of President Kennedy. I asked her what made her decide on wearing JFK. And not to get too gruesome here, but I commented that this being Halloween and all, shouldn’t her JFK mask be missing the upper right half of his lobe, courtesy of Lee Harvey Oswald? She told me that she had no idea what I was talking about. I then asked her what grade she was in and she chipperly announced that she was not in high school but in college. Yes college, and JFK was nothing but a mystery to her. I then began to get really, really nervous that she might be at my particular citadel of higher learning. Happily this wasn’t the case, but I did learn that she was going to college to become...drum roll please...a dental hygienist. I kid you not. To add insult to injury, one of the other kids on my stoop announced in a loud voice, “let’s get out of here. I mean why are you talking to this guy? This thing is about candy.” Yes, indeed, my little friend it is all about the candy, and I hope you remember that when you soon know all to well the sound of a high speed drill as it comes closer and closer to the decaying mass that was once a happy, healthy tooth of yours.

Next year I’m gonna give out dental floss.....and copies of the Zapruder film.

Broadcast by Jonathan Nashel on November 14, 2003
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