Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Face meet palm....

Southern Halloween.  Where in every small town, parents sit on their grand, wraparound porches,as the sun sets, sipping mint juleps poorly disguised as sweet tea, passing out candy; gayly wrapped in festive cellophane bags with color coordinated curly ribbon tied neatly at the top, with an occassional "bless your heart" thrown in for good measure.

*Imagine truck slamming on brakes sound effect here*

Now, let me welcome you to our town's version...

One house on the entire block passing out candy, on their once grand, wraparound porch.  Angrily and loudly commenting on the lack of Halloween candy-passing-out participants; while our stellar, upstanding neighbors are languishing on their own once grand, wraparound porch.  All the while slapping potted meat on crackers and making no attempt to disguise their Old Milwaukee's Best.  They seem to take pleasure waiting until a poor attempt of Superman, an unknown Disney princess and some escaped clown from Ringling Bros (I heard their retirement package was lacking, so it's understandable) finally summoned the courage to walk up the path to their house to announce "We ain't gots noes candy to pass out....goes next door!"

Why did I think it would play out any differently?  Why did I envision every porch light on, and neighbors happily chitchatting while anxiously awaiting a new group of bedazzled, giggly, my-mother-stayed-up-all-night-to-complete-my-costume clothed children, skipping down the sidewalk to see what the next house is passing out?  Maybe  I read about it in a book (yes, a book...not a hunting catalog), or saw it in a movie whose director obviously was as dilusional as I am?

Even the rosy cheeked, giggly children don't put forth an ounce of effort here.  There is no color on their cheeks and I didn't hear one giggle all night, and you can forget about hearing "trick-or-treat" (we have a town full of mute children it seems).   The actual costume has become completely optional, and there isn't any trick-or-treat bag to be seen when you use your school backpack, or a triple bagged "Walmarket" plastic bag...."Hello're not going to need that triple bag protection when only 1 out of 50 houses are passing out candy...but...Bless your heart!"

Damn it!  I wanted a Norman Rockwell moment...if only for one night!!  And the sad part is I'll have the same illusions of grandeur again next year....

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