Hallowmoan

Common Sense, R.I.P.

Don’t talk to strange women.
No sweets from strange men.
Those are the rules, three-sixty-four.

Yet

when the dead come alive
on day three-sixty-five,
it’s fine to knock on a stranger’s door?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We never let our kids go trick-or-treating.  For one thing, we’re not American.  For another, it seemed hypocritical to warn them not to take sweets from strangers, and then send them out into the night to do just that.

We did let them dress up to frighten the children who came to our door.  There were never many because it is not a real English tradition, but an American import by British retailers.  The boys usually went to parties organised by the church (but not dressed as zombies and axe murderers).

I don’t know if we deprived them of an important childhood ritual, but it occurs to me that the retailers are the ones who enjoy Halloween the most; the boys were always happy to play duck apple at home, and eat the leftover treats.