NOVEMBER 2010 - There she was, Lady Gaga in all her over-processed, costumed glory, ready for one last night out on the town.
Momentarily caught between the innocence of childhood and the call to be grown-up, my 11-year-old decided on one last year of childhood, and I am so glad that she did.\
We picked up a friend, who, due to a bad tumble from her front-porch steps, was forced to hobble on crutches, and headed out for a night of candy-crazed madness. It was so much fun! At first Lady Gaga and her pink-casted witch buddy raced to the doors with gusto. After awhile, the crutches got to be too big a burden and Gaga in all her Gaga-ness would go it alone and ask for candy for her friend.
Somewhere along the way we picked up a few stragglers: Al Capone with a glowing cigar, another witch and – would Halloween be Halloween without one – a banana. They giggled and laughed and howled at the moon while my wife and I drove them around our subdivision in our truck, the bed filled with hay and a couple of old quilts.
Every once in a while Her Gaga-ness would skip to my window. “Dad-deeee, I got something for youuuuuu!” That’s my signal that this is a Butterfinger house. I love my baby girl! She didn’t overlook her mom, who received a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and a Snickers Bars. It was a good night all around. As the evening wore on, the platinum wig began to slide off, the witch-on-crutches lost her desire for more candy; and Al Capone and his banana companion decided to check out a part of the neighborhood we’d already been to. So, we retired to the house to check out the loot and to see how The Boy, who believes he has outgrown this madness, had managed as the designated candy-giver-outer. This was his first year on the job, and he was not amused. Frustrated by the humanity of Halloween, he had posted a sign at the front door:
RULES
1. No costume, no candy!
2. If you are 13 or over, no candy!
3. 1 piece of candy!
The sign, he said, solved his problem.
We put in a VHS (can you believe I still have something to play it on?) of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” laughed until we sighed and finally called it a night. There in the quiet, the occasional jack o’lantern still flickering on a neighbor’s porch, it hit me that this was the last Halloween. Oh, there will be others, but my babies are growing up. Trick-or-Treat is behind them.
Another milestone. Another gray hair. Another tear.
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