You’d think we live in a retirement community, with basically no children in the neighborhood these days. They all grew up and moved away, leaving us old people to our own devices and an occasional sip of wine.
Come Halloween, I’m not seeing any spooky decorations on my street. There may be a tasteful autumn wreath and maybe a pumpkin and cluster of cornstalks, but that’s about it. No oversized skeletons, thank goodness. Those things are just plain creepy, if you ask me.
Gayle humorously reflects on modern Halloween trends, from giant skeletons to irresistible candy.Metro Creative Graphics
Several years ago — probably a lot longer ago than that — someone devised a witch character that looked like it flew into a telephone pole. I thought that was pretty comical. And then I saw what looked like a witch that took a header into an oversized flowerpot, with only her purple striped stockings and witchy black shoes sticking up in the air. Again, clever. Not scary.
But these giant bony characters in front yards — I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid my age must be showing, because I just don’t see the humor, if that’s what I’m supposed to see. Early in the season I happened to be in Home Depot and saw a display of these “things” and quickly moved along, not wanting to appear interested — although, between you and me, I was a bit intrigued and impressed by their enormity up close. By not lingering, I didn’t have a chance to look at price tags, but here’s the fearsome part: I’m pretty sure they cost, hah, an arm and a leg. Maybe that’s why some people leave them out and just put a Santa hat way up on top of Mr. Bones to get their money’s worth.
I’m assuming they must be stored somewhere in the off-season. How do they disassemble? What are they made of? They don’t look inflatable. I may have to go back to Home Depot and take a closer look. If asked, I’ll tell the clerk I’m looking for a “friend.” I imagine they’re anchored in the yard pretty securely; otherwise — oh, my — one can only imagine. It gives a whole new meaning to the word “boneyard.”
But can you imagine looking out your upstairs bedroom window and having Bony Maroney right there looking back at you? That’s nightmare time for all of us, no matter your age, but terrifying to children. No, thank you.
I still remember seeing the shadow of a witch on my nighttime window shade when I was about 8 years old. We had a streetlight out front and bare branches lightly brushing the window — all conspiring to scare the wits out of little me. To make things worse, I’m betting I had just seen The Wizard of Oz. Little kids are so impressionable. I have lifetime scars. That probably accounts for my dislike of these skeletal creatures.
Moving along, let’s consider something less frightening but still scary in its own right: Halloween candy. Whole aisles are devoted to seasonal candy displays calling to us, no matter our age. What harm is there in a miniature Snickers bar? Or two? How many of them does it take to make a full-size Snickers? And it’s only one month. How much damage can we do, even if it’s just the two of us? I used to buy bags of candy corn, telling myself they were for decoration, artfully displayed on the coffee table in a seasonal little dish. But then we’d walk by and they’d call out to us, and the next thing we’d know, the dish was nearly empty and we’d wonder where they went.
At least with a Snickers bar, you have to unwrap it — therefore expending calories. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
