Lary Bloom Photo
Some of last year’s visitors: There was no such thing as buying too much candy.
As we face a challenging night of trick-or-treating and modified celebrations, I offer a few reflections to chew on with your excess Snickers bars.
First, a bit of personal haunted history.
When we bought our East Rock condo several years ago, the previous owner told us to expect that on Halloween, “the United Nations will come to your door.”
Though I easily understood the basis for the owner’s remark — one of the elements that attracted us to this city is its diversity — I was not prepared for what it foretold. For thirty years in the village of Chester, hidden in the woods in a barn house, our outlay for treats was pocket change. The only children to show up at the door were kids of kind friends bent on making us feel relevant.
With that as our recent experience, we were caught short on our first New Haven Halloween. Foolish me, I had purchased only 500 pieces of candy.
As I sat out on the front porch, three princesses approached. They parted and behind them came battalions of ninjas, companies of ballet dancers, limber Spidertots, and eerie skeletons in serious need of some nougat and caramel on their bones. The turnout was so enormous that I was certain busloads of children had arrived from Chicago. Word does get around about generous neighborhoods.
Alas, our baskets of goodies that first night were empty by 6:20 p.m. We put a sign in the window expressing our sorrow and admitting our disgrace and incompetence. Our “See you next year” message was of little comfort to those whose hopes and dreams for yet another bag of Chuckles were dashed by the skinflint newbies from the countryside.
As the years passed, however, we got wiser and purchased upwards of a thousand pieces. In all that time, we never had leftovers. Until now. What to do this year?
How many parents want to possibly expose their little ones to the virus just because the kids have looked forward to this all year, have professed their costume preferences, have complained, “If you don’t let me go, you’ll be the meanest parents in all the world.” (Or the equivalent in Portuguese or Swahili.)
And what of us adults who in an odd way look forward to these interactions almost as much as the little ones?
Instead of looking forward to this annual sugarfest, we may have to bar our door and remain nourished by the ghosts of Halloweens past.
We could, of course, do what another East Rock couple has done to accommodate the little ones. Casey Dunn and Erika Edwards have constructed a long chute from their second floor to deliver the goods as children approach.
But as ingenious and generous as this effort is, it eliminates the personal interaction that is the delight of the holiday for the adults at home.
A young football player who knows his history.
Over the years, we have been astonished and knocked out by so many little visitors.
One of them last fall, announcing that she was two and three quarters years old (already a master of fractions) and wearing a leotard, marched right into the house. She sat down at the Mason & Hamlin baby grand to pound out a tune that made little sense to adult ears but seemed a Mozartian masterpiece to her own.
When her mother saw what she presumed was an unwelcome intrusion on the living room, she apologized. She then said, “Maybe I should be paying for music lessons instead of ballet classes.”
If the weather is accommodating, it is our tradition to sit out on the porch with a pizza slice, snacks and a beer. One trick or treater, about 10 years-old, arrived with his bag and mouth open. He looked at the spread on our table and said, “Guac and beer – you guys sure know how to live.”
Last year, the singer and composer Tom Petty appeared at our door two years after his death, a ghost who didn’t look like a ghost but doffed a top hat.
And I was very much amused by the little boy dressed up as a member of the Cleveland Browns football team. I was tempted to ask him if he was aware that the Browns are Connecticut’s NFL squad — they play on land once owned by us as the Connecticut Western Reserve — but thought better of it. The kid had not headed out on that brisk evening to attend a history seminar.
We think some of these little miracles will show up this year, though we haven’t discussed possible distribution systems. The busloads will likely not arrive. The spirits of Halloween will endure in the anticipatory eyes of those that do.
They will look up to us even though, wearing our own costumes of considerably less flash and dash, we must take our own measures of responsibility for bringing them into a real world so bereft of their beautiful innocence.
So here little ones are bags of Twizzlers and some more mindful goods (raisin and juice boxes). And here are our hopes that your wisdom and natural sense of humanity will prevail.
When I lived in the Edgewood neighborhood I looked forward to the hundreds of children who rang our doorbell on Halloween. I didn't care if they had a costume or not (there are many children in poorer neighborhoods who don't have parents who make sure they have a costumes, or are foster children, or can't afford one.) I didn't care if they were tall, gangly teens, ( I knew several children who developed early and looked like full fledged adults when really they were only 9, 10, 11 or so years old.) Childhood is such a fleeting period of time, and too many children have to give up their childhood way too early in life, especially in the city. When I moved to a neighborhood that didn't have any children trick or treating in our condo complex, I missed the wonderful interactions and the glowing young faces filled with the delight of candy from people they don't know, who only wanted to give them sugar and joy. With a few exceptions, Halloween is all about enjoying the joy of childhood imaginations.
While this season may be the Halloween that wasn't, I hope that next year, with a vaccine or cure, Halloween can return with all the usual ghosts, goblins, superheroes, witches, future occupations like doctor or firefighter, and the incredible joy of free candy for all the children, all for the fun of dressing up and showing off their costumes to delighted adults.