Yamada Hōgyoku: Bat and Moon (1830s)

"Let tradition bring us through those times when we feel most threatened."

I take refuge in traditional rituals when Decency wears thin. I had forgotten how important Halloween has always been until that first goblin rang the doorbell to threaten me with tricks if I didn’t deliver a treat. The current crop of kids passed muster, mysteriously dressed as current characters. I have to ask what each one ‘is,’ because I don’t get those memos anymore. I wore a vintage Felix the Cat costume in my time, though I doubt any of this year’s crop of costume wearers ever knew to remember who Felix was. One came bare-chested in the chill. One wore an inflatable T-Rex suit that probably snagged on the rose bushes that line our front walk. Many forgot to declare, “Trick or Treat,” and needed to be reminded to fulfill their part of the performance. I felt like I inhabited a Norman Rockwell painting or a vintage Walt Disney movie, experiences I had been in sore need of believing in again.

Kids these days don’t much go in for tricking, certainly not on the scale kids did in my grandfather’s youth. He never tired of retelling the stories of tipping over outhouses when someone was inside and laughing when they’d peek out the hole. He sometimes stole outhouses, hoping someone would fall into the hole in the dark. He’d even join in to make a bonfire out of stolen outhouses, like any half-decent goblin would do in those days. Now, the threatened Halloween Tricks ring hollow. Nobody in the current generation even seems capable of dreaming up something as traditional as that old familiar flaming bag of dog crap left on the welcome mat for the inhabitant to stomp on to put out the fire—none of the classic tricks translated into our current dialect.

Parents often accompany even the middle school-aged ghouls these days. My folks would have no more gone out with us than we would have consented to them accompanying us on our rounds, for Halloween brought illicit thoughts of rampaging. I would imagine myself transformed from a relatively mild-mannered young gentleman into a potentially dangerous prowler. I’d creep down alleyways seeking ways I might distinguish myself as a criminal, rattling a garbage can or startling a cat. We’d go as a gang, thinking ourselves genuinely threatening, though we never once engaged in anything even distantly resembling genuine mischief. Oh, we’d have stories to tell the following morning, largely fictitious, and a stash of candy that might successfully see us through halfway to Christmas.

All of these memories and more washed up and over me as I repeatedly answered the door. I always asked who each person purported to be and complimented them on their fashion sense, even when their fashion choices made little sense to me. If a ghost tried to reach into our candy bowl, I’d lightly chastise them for breach of protocol. They were tradition-bound to threaten, and I, to pay them off, with no shortcuts or self-service allowed. I thanked each one for gracing our porch and even wished them “Happy Halloween,” though I have no idea what that even means. I’ve noticed a certain erosion of holidays in recent years. Now, it’s “Happy” for every holiday. “Happy Veterans’ Day,” “Happy Martin Luther King Day,” when I suspect that most don’t even hear what they’re saying, let alone understand what those greetings might mean. I imagine that, just through reflex action, we will one day take to wishing each other “Happy Funeral!”

We had a Happy Halloween, whatever that was supposed to mean. I built a fine roaring fire. A World Series game was on the AM radio. The Muse made a fine Bucatini Puttanesca. We opened a modest red wine. The cats would startle at the instant any ghoulish footstep landed on the porch, and we would rise to open the front door even before the doorbell rang, to replay the ritual again and again. It seemed like Decency visiting, even in these days when cruelty appears by far the more common currency. The courtesy to unseriously threaten me from the security of my own front porch, and to understand that nobody needs to take such threats seriously. Freedom and liberty both seem to be embodied in such silly rituals. Let tradition bring us through those times when we feel most threatened. The mauraders left us with only a small Snickers and a half-dozen carmels. Happy Halloween, indeed!

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Decency, #PureSchmaltz