Editorial
Front Page - Friday, November 5, 2010
Are we there yet?
Trick or treat
Jay Edwards
Halloween was pretty much a non-event at our house this year. I think we just had six or seven groups of the little sugar-worshippers who climbed the steep stairs to our front door, to get to the Snickers and M&Ms, which I picked out Saturday morning at Kroger while buying ingredients for chili.
Kathy says I can’t go to the store anymore; something about not paying attention to what I buy and spending too much of her hard-earned dollars. I don’t know why she would say that, I know exactly what I’m putting in the basket, just the good stuff, like Snickers and M&Ms.
After playing golf at the Red Apple Sunday morning, and shooting a 52 on the front nine (“See, I told you to not miss church,” Kathy said), I drove back home to a night of trick or treaters, chili and scary movies. We were happy to spend part of the evening with our sixth-grade niece Claire, who wasn’t feeling that great and declined making the rounds with her little sisters, Cat and Caroline, who were decked out as a witch from “Wicked” and an eighties girl (a style that Kathy tells me is coming back).
Claire is a great girl and since she wasn’t feeling well (and doesn’t have a cell phone) I tried to cheer her up by watching Beetlejuice.
The doorbell rang and Kathy met the first trick or treater, who was a little boy dressed like a bat. It reminded me of one of the first times I ever took our son Matt out on Halloween. We went with his friend Tony and Tony’s dad Steve. Matt was a ninja and Tony was a bat. At the first house we pointed them toward the door and told them to get after it. When they got to the door they stood and waited. All the lights were on and the house was decked out in cobwebs and orange lights. But there they stood and no one came to greet them. Finally Steve yelled up at them, “Did you knock?”
“Oh,” they said.
When someone opened the door I heard Matt say “Trick or treat,” followed by Tony’s, “I’m a bat!”
That became their calling card for the night, “Trick or treat,” followed by, “I’m a bat!” But it was effective as their bags were filled with candy.
Steve, I remember from those days, enjoyed jumping out and startling the young ghosts and goblins who dared make their way onto his front porch. Over the years we’ve lost touch with him and his wife Linda, but recently I became a friend of hers on Facebook, and got a good laugh when she posted the following on Halloween night –
“Okay so some men never grow up (My husband). We have great decorations with sound effects and smoke. As if that isn’t enough he has been sitting on the porch for an hour with a mask on waiting to scare the older kids when they come up to trick or treat. He accidentally jumped out when some older kids had their little sister, and the poor baby ran off crying.”
Nice to know my old friend hasn’t lost his touch.
•••
In honor of All Hallow’s Eve, here’s a bit of poetry for you. Don’t worry, I won’t make a habit of this.
Curtains Call
There was a brilliant scientist who never saw the sun.
He spent his days with microscopes; to him there lie the fun.
A mind like blueprints for all genes, he learned them by osmosis.
From isotopes, to eggs and sperm, and gametes from meiosis.
Pathology, his lot in life, the dead were sent to him,
And ones with pulses never stayed, not even on a whim.
All souls who drew a breath below did never linger long,
They cared not for the lab, nor him, the vibes downstairs were wrong.
He was a brilliant scientist yet still a lonely man
Who dreamed all day of telling jokes to crowds of cheer-
ing fans.
His audience, he must have known, were those whose days had passed.
Just organ donors, hit and runs, or ones the state had gassed.
At night he’d dress them to the nines and start in with the jokes.
He’d prop them up so they could laugh at such a funny bloke.
Yes they were his, those lifeless ones, to do with as he pleased.
Sometimes he’d switch their heads around, because he liked to tease.
There was a lonely scientist, whose jokes were always new,
To girls who sat on the front row, with skin just slightly blue.
His mind would hear applause and cheer throughout the somber room.
It brought such joy, he never sensed, that all was draped in gloom.
And after, when the show was done, he’d choose one to entice.
He never did go home alone – any line would suffice.
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