Ninjas and Pirates and Vampires, Oh My!
Nearly noon, and the marine layer is clinging to the Southern Californian sky with its old, gray-knuckled fingers, blanketing the usually sunny Southland with an appropriately gloomy Halloween morn. I've been waiting a long time for this Halloween, why exactly, I don't know. I'd say I'm getting sentimental in my old age, but I've always been sentimental, so much so that I'll burn bridges accordingly to preserve the sanctity of my memories, lest the uncertain future change my impression of an otherwise perfect, now forever unaffected experience. No, something about this Halloween commemorates something; I just wish I knew what.
I've already had a treasured holiday moment thanks to my job, because working with kids makes every holiday a little bit better, and like I said, it's not even noon. One of the kids has been bragging about his vampire-ninja-pirate costume, and when I saw him this morning, I noticed a surprising lack of anything vampire or pirate about him. I guess the stores were out of Dracula capes and hook hands, he mused, trying to shrug off his obvious disappointment. Fortunately, I have a spare Dracula cape, because everyone should, and I let him borrow it, much to his delight. Here's a lesson, folks: I didn't let him have the cape, but I made it clear he was borrowing it, because I trust him to return it. "I wouldn't let you use it if I didn't trust you with it," I added. Therein, the gift isn't the cape, but the trust; he's wearing something that belongs to me, so he'll treat it with extra care, and while I get the unique opportunity to make his Halloween wish come true (sans hook hand, but I'm working on it), I also enhance his sense of self through the integrity of our relationship. People give things to kids all the time. Like candy, yes, but today that's okay. It shouldn't always be that easy.
Plus, as a geek, I enjoy the fact that I gave a young person a cape. And that he eagerly let it ride the breeze behind him as he ran off to school. It's one thing to draw a cape; it's another thing to give one to a fellow human being.
I'm suddenly remembering three things I hated to receive in my trick or treat bag, and for those of you staying home this year, please allow me to dissuade you from passing out the following items:
1. Apples. First of all, they're heavy, and they take up valuable bag space. I mean, the surface area of an apple is undoubtedly equivalent to two or three fun-sized Snickers. And I'm not trick or treating for my health. If you're gonna pass out apples, dip it in something sugary first, or at least stick a gummy worm in it. God.
2. Loose change. I'm not a bum. I don't want your money. I want your candy. I can find loose change in payphones and in gas station leave-a-penny trays. Plus, how can I toilet paper your yard later with loose change rattling around in my bag? Now you can hear me coming! That was your plan all along, wasn't it?
3. Religious literature. Of any kind. I don't care what you believe in. Halloween is about one thing: dressing up like restless spirits and devourers of human flesh to beg neighbors for candy. What's so spiritual about that? Actually, I have a solution. Chocolate Jesus. The best part is, one fun size Chocolate Jesus can feed 5000, with a few wrapper-fulls to spare. I just made that up.
I have plenty more Haunted House to do at work, so I really should suck down the rest of this Pumpkin Frap and get to it. I just wanted a few Halloween moments to myself. The holidays are so often about time sharing -- with friends, family, and iconic figures we're led to believe aren't real anyway -- that we usually don't take a moment just to soak it in by our lonesomes. Maybe that's why I've anticipated Halloween so much this year. It's been marinating in me, a singular pursuit that has slowly mushroomed into department store aisles and front yard decorations -- a celebration that began within and has become painfully apparent all around me. Everyone's on the bandwagon I've been riding for months. It's about time.
I've already had a treasured holiday moment thanks to my job, because working with kids makes every holiday a little bit better, and like I said, it's not even noon. One of the kids has been bragging about his vampire-ninja-pirate costume, and when I saw him this morning, I noticed a surprising lack of anything vampire or pirate about him. I guess the stores were out of Dracula capes and hook hands, he mused, trying to shrug off his obvious disappointment. Fortunately, I have a spare Dracula cape, because everyone should, and I let him borrow it, much to his delight. Here's a lesson, folks: I didn't let him have the cape, but I made it clear he was borrowing it, because I trust him to return it. "I wouldn't let you use it if I didn't trust you with it," I added. Therein, the gift isn't the cape, but the trust; he's wearing something that belongs to me, so he'll treat it with extra care, and while I get the unique opportunity to make his Halloween wish come true (sans hook hand, but I'm working on it), I also enhance his sense of self through the integrity of our relationship. People give things to kids all the time. Like candy, yes, but today that's okay. It shouldn't always be that easy.
Plus, as a geek, I enjoy the fact that I gave a young person a cape. And that he eagerly let it ride the breeze behind him as he ran off to school. It's one thing to draw a cape; it's another thing to give one to a fellow human being.
I'm suddenly remembering three things I hated to receive in my trick or treat bag, and for those of you staying home this year, please allow me to dissuade you from passing out the following items:
1. Apples. First of all, they're heavy, and they take up valuable bag space. I mean, the surface area of an apple is undoubtedly equivalent to two or three fun-sized Snickers. And I'm not trick or treating for my health. If you're gonna pass out apples, dip it in something sugary first, or at least stick a gummy worm in it. God.
2. Loose change. I'm not a bum. I don't want your money. I want your candy. I can find loose change in payphones and in gas station leave-a-penny trays. Plus, how can I toilet paper your yard later with loose change rattling around in my bag? Now you can hear me coming! That was your plan all along, wasn't it?
3. Religious literature. Of any kind. I don't care what you believe in. Halloween is about one thing: dressing up like restless spirits and devourers of human flesh to beg neighbors for candy. What's so spiritual about that? Actually, I have a solution. Chocolate Jesus. The best part is, one fun size Chocolate Jesus can feed 5000, with a few wrapper-fulls to spare. I just made that up.
I have plenty more Haunted House to do at work, so I really should suck down the rest of this Pumpkin Frap and get to it. I just wanted a few Halloween moments to myself. The holidays are so often about time sharing -- with friends, family, and iconic figures we're led to believe aren't real anyway -- that we usually don't take a moment just to soak it in by our lonesomes. Maybe that's why I've anticipated Halloween so much this year. It's been marinating in me, a singular pursuit that has slowly mushroomed into department store aisles and front yard decorations -- a celebration that began within and has become painfully apparent all around me. Everyone's on the bandwagon I've been riding for months. It's about time.