Halloween Disappointment

Taking a break from political issues, I would like to comment on our Halloween experience this year, which was the first that we took our 2 1/2-year-old-son trick-or-treating. We live in the inner city and have long known that there are a lot of people in our neighborhood who don't pass out candy. But until I had to traverse block after disappointing block of dark houses, lucky to see two or three porch lights on, I never realized exactly how many of my neighbors don't participate.

People have been complaining about trick-or-treating for decades, but in recent years, the number of participating houses, particularly in Youngstown, has plummeted. One of the most persistent complaints is that too many parents drive their kids from block to block in order to accumulate as much candy as possible in the two allotted hours. Many are upset that what was once a fun neighborhood activity in which people see the area kids dressed up and parents exchange familiar greetings has been reduced to a mad, greedy free-for-all for Snickers bars and Twizzlers. The other, and more insidious, complaint is that there are too many kids from "bad neighborhoods" getting dropped off by parents in "good neighborhoods." In Youngstown, the translation is that black children are "infiltrating" white neighborhoods in search of more and better candy, which in a city that is almost singularly defined by the effects of white flight, is the surest way to stop people from passing out candy.

Since ours was one of the few houses with porch lights on, we had round after round of eager, happy, costumed kids holding out bags and chirping "trick-or-treat." Yes, many were dropped off, and to those kids, we gave even more candy because we know they will be returning to neighborhoods with abandoned and fire-damaged houses, empty lots with overgrown weeds, and perhaps homes without heat beds, or even parents or responsible guardians. But still they were out there enjoying one of the hallmark activities of childhood, and I was not about to deny them that.

Fear has always governed Halloween activities. When I was young, everyone checked for razor blades and straight pins in candy bars. Apples, candy corn, and other loose items were immediately discarded because of potential poisoning. Even though no razor was ever found in any candy bar anywhere in the United States, the rumors and fears just seemed to grow worse over the years. Today, many neighborhoods schedule trick-or-treating from noon to 2 p.m. so that kids aren't roaming the streets after dark. Whether this is to protect the kids from kidnapping or homeowners from costumed burglars, I don't know. Even more places schedule indoor candy hunting so as to completely eliminate threats to and from the pubic at large.

The reality is that Halloween is still an overwhelmingly safe and benign event. We allow 10-year-olds to light fireworks in their own yards on the Fourth of July, but won't let them trick-or-treat because it's not safe. How does that make sense? We open our doors to men in uniforms bearing the names of utility and cable companies, but are afraid to hand out candy to kids dressed as Sponge Bob and Dora the Explorer. There is no logic to it.

I know that in my neighborhood, motives are almost purely racist, though few would ever admit it. And I could (at will at a later date) discuss at length the misguided reasons and consequences of their behavior, but for now, my purpose is only to highlight the illogical and inconsistent fears that have come to define Halloween. Most of all, I feel bad for my neighbors who didn't get to witness the excitement and creativity of kids dresed up as divas, cowboys, Storm Troopers, doctors, princesses, witches, dinosaurs, girraffes, and dozens of other characters, traversing neighborhood streets with the sole, child-like purpose of acquiring as much sugar as possible. It's nothing more and nothing les than what generations of kids have done before them. I only hope kids in the not-so-distant future are not denied this pastime by adults who've taken one too many urban legends to heart.