I’m disappointed that there has been so much inveighing against Halloween these last several years. I think that it is the quintessential Henderson holiday.
| People walk up to your front door, demand something they have no right to, complain loudly if it doesn’t suit them, and tear up your lawn to do the same to your neighbor. Nobody really seems to bother with costumes or saying “trick or treat” anymore. Or the words “thank you.”
It’s all about the candy. But you have bigger problems than that by now, Henderson. Your children are just waking up from their glucose-induced coma. Without a doubt they’re more hung over than W.C. Fields after Prohibition ended. Don’t be surprised if their teachers call you at work today to tell you that your kids were snorting Pixie Stix and mainlining Hershey’s chocolate syrup. |
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The first thing you should have done this morning is fall to your knees (or not) and thank whatever you believe in that your children survived the worst traffic snarl Henderson has seen since last Halloween. Only in Henderson do parents turn into a nightmarish combination of Richard Petty and Evel Knievel in their zeal to get free basic nutrition for their carload of 20-year-olds. Sidewalks? We ain’t got no sidewalks. We don’t need no stinkin’ sidewalks. This year’s favorite costumes were, apparently, “Star Wars” (walkers) and gang-chic (car riders). I love the new rhymes, such as: “Tic or tack, give me crack, or I’ll stick you with my gak.” Trick-or-treating must be the Crips’ new initiation ritual. The Snickers bars were, no doubt, the first to be consumed. I like to liberate a few of those myself while the little Gloriosus isn’t looking. It teaches him a valuable lesson. Hell, any kid with sense puts the good stuff under the Mary Janes and candy corn in the bottom of the plastic candy pumpkin. They do this in preparation for the Halloween tradition of the Tribute to the Old Ones, which usually comes after bedtime, when all of the Zagnuts and Milky Ways and Krackles are potentially sacrificed to the ancestors. Is there anyone left in Henderson who’s health-nutty enough to give out fresh fruit, or have one too many apples been thrown away against the highly unlikely possibility that there’s a razor blade in them? Of course, the thing now is the Atkins low-carbohydrate diet. Did anyone get a steak salad for trick-or-treat? For me, Halloween marks the beginning of the “holiday gauntlet.” Already the orgy of consumption that culminates in the after-Christmas sale has begun. Heck, you wouldn’t know it was Halloween only yesterday if you stepped into Wal-Mart. Now I know what Tim Burton was talking about with “The Nightmare Before Christmas”. They’ve got Santa Claus standing ten feet from the Grim Reaper’s sickle. When I worked in retail, many years ago, the Christmas decorations went up on Nov. 11, and I thought that was excessive, not to mention disrespectful to all those veterans. Only in America can something as utterly selfless as fighting for one’s country be corrupted into an opportunity to save 10 percent on bedsheets at Belk. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. Our economy depends on him. And the reindeer. If our economy has to be based on a holiday, why not Groundhog Day instead of Christmas? At least you don’t have to lie. There really is a Punxsutawney Phil and a bunch of beer-guzzling idiots who serve him. You could even take the kids to see him, if you dare. You think Henderson is bad? Punxsutawney makes Henderson look like Paris. The town is so nasty that the Bill Murray film “Groundhog Day” had to be filmed in a small town in Illinois called Woodstock. But I digress. Soon I’ll be taking down the Halloween decorations and putting them up in the attic for another year. Then, after a hearty Thanksgiving in the bosom of my family (you know, turkey with blame sauce, stuffing with chopped guilt, a gravy boat overflowing with reproachful silence, all served with resigned disappointment), it will be time to take down the Christmas boxes. But those are other columns. Happy holidays! |
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