Don’t throw candy corn at me, but I had a pretty awesome born-again Christian Halloween last Thursday.
I realize there are unsavory elements to the holiday. Witches and werewolves and the un-dead are tied to what all believers acknowledge are dark forces. And I don’t doubt Lucifer would like to use October 31 to his own nefarious ends. Still, I agree with the indignant theologian who burst out: “Why should we cancel our parties – and let Satan steal our happiness?”
On top of which, here’s how my evening went . . . and I suspect yours was similar. I set up in my driveway with a huge bowl of candy. And out they came: kids and toddlers and babies and big brothers and sisters pushing their siblings in carriages. Moms taking their little ones from house to house. I probably gave out candy to two hundreds kids – and every single one of them (of talking age) said “thank you.” A well-trained generation is coming our way, folks. And there was a cheerful, neighborly camaraderie on our street; people felt safe among kind-hearted citizens.
I have no doubt that I served both Republican and Democratic ghosts and goblins that night. Some mommies surely voted for Obama, others for Romney. There were probably families who benefited from the Affordable Care Act and others wanting to pitch it into the sea. But it was plain to see that every single parent out on the sidewalks adored their children, were on duty to keep them safe, and prayed to God – by whatever name – for a bright and happy future for these precious little Draculas and Bella Swans.
One eleven-year-old’s costume baffled me. He wore a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. In his right hand was a plastic microphone; I wondered if it was “live.” “Who are you supposed to be?” I asked, as he blurted out a “trick-or-treat,” waited his turn for candy, and followed with a polite thank you. “Oh,” he said, brandishing the fake mike. “I’m Eminem.” I was thankful there weren’t lyrics on the kid’s shirt, but I wanted to grab the mike and call out into the beautiful night: “Stay just like you are, you guys! Maybe in 2043, you can be our new Congress.”
David B. Smith Books 