Saturday, November 10, 2012

When Candy Corn Goes Unharvested

Saturday already?  Man how the work week flies by when you only work a day and a half.  In fairness to me - and to all of the other fine folks at the Firm - the time away from the office was not in fact "time off".  Sandy knocked us off of the grid entirely from the evening of October 29 through mid-day of November 8.  I was fortunate enough to get my power back on at home on Election Day.  I learned when we all starting filtering back into the shop on the 8th that far too many of my colleagues remained without it.  I hope that by day's end today each of them - and everyone else for that matter - has rejoined the land of the energized.  After kicking us hard in the 'nads the past two weeks, Mother Nature is scheduled to let up at least a little this weekend and provide more than adequate amounts of sunshine and warmth.  It is about damn time. 

If there is one positive that I took from the events of the past (almost) two weeks it was the de facto cancellation of Halloween.   Halloween is a day (its dual citizenship as Jill/Joe's anniversary notwithstanding - 25th this year by the way!) that grates on my last nerve.  Margaret and I have had arguments in years past over my handling of candy distribution.  The nadir - or zenith depending upon one's perspective - was the year in which I waited until she and the kids had left (she was driving them to some sort of Halloween dance/party at school if memory serves) and then put the enormous basket of candy she had put together at the base of our front porch steps with a sign, "PLEASE TAKE ONLY ONE!" and then watched when all of five or six minutes later a young boy dumped the contents of the basket into his satchel like a jewel thief cleaning out loose diamonds at the Jewelry Exchange.  My reaction?  I waited until he had walked on to the next house  - I did not want to startle the little waif - and went outside, retrieved the empty basket, brought it back into the house and shut off the front porch light.  Voila!  Trick-or-treating was over almost as soon as it had started. 

Sandy (I cannot deign to refer to it as "Super Storm Sandy", which sounds to my ear something akin to a character name for the next Avengers movie) forced Halloween to be moved from its regular spot on the calendar at October's end to Monday, November 5.  One supposes that if our state was goverrned by a person with less of an obvious sweet tooth that C Squared perhaps the re-scheduling of Halloween might have been a low-priority item.  Regardless, when November 5 rolled around in my little town more than half of the good people living 'NTSG - including my lovely bride and the a**hole to whom she is married - were still without power.  I saw one group of kids (fewer than a half-dozen) on the outskirts of our neighborhood that afternoon carrying their T-or-T gear.  I presumed they were trick or treaters AND not looters because (a) it was broad daylight; and (b) they were in a variety of costumes.  I did not hear or see any of them at my front door.  Of course, given that we have no power at the time if they stood out there ringing the bell their fingers would have been reduced to nubs before I would have been alerted to their presence. 

Hopefully the candy industry will be able to hang in there until next Halloween.  I have every confidence they shall.  And perhaps the lesson to be taken from this is not for the kids but for the adults.  You know who you are.  The shopkeepers and store owners who cram Halloween-themed crap down our throats starting at 12:01 a.m. on the Tuesday following Labor Day. 

Trick-OR-Treat?  This year it was more a case of Trick-AND-Treat.  In view of what the former exacted from all of us in these parts however as a price for one night of peace and quiet, it may be time for me to rethink my position on the value of costumed urchins ringing my front doorbell. 


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