lifestyle

What we DIDN’T expect to find in a Halloween treat bag

Three hundred and sixty-four days a year you tell your kids not to approach strangers. You tell them not to take candy from strangers. And then on October 31 you send them out in the dark with a bag to do both.

And sometimes you realize your protective instincts were spot-on. For instance…

  • If your house is as littered with candy wrappers as LBHQ is, you’re in for some late nights and rollercoaster moodswings.
  • If your neighbors were as gung-ho as ours about inspiring terror in their most wee visitors, you’re in for some nightmares—some cold nights on the floor beside the bed of a toddler jabbering about a corpse that sprang out at 2### Woodland Drive.
  • If you have as much trouble resisting Kit Kats and Aeros as my parents, you’ll be doing some extra time on the gym hamster wheel.
  • And, if you live in a Bible Belt similar to ours, you’ll be debriefing with the kids about “treats” like this in their Halloween bags:

“Whoa,” my dad said when he pulled this booklet out of V’s bag. “I thought we just had to worry about razor blades.”

The image does seem a little hard-core for a five-year-old—especially one who hasn’t grown up with the Christian story. If, back in the day, my parents’ neighbors had bestowed such a tract on them instead of a Milky Way bar, they would have been surprised by its not being candy, but not by the imagery; Dad went to a nondenominational church where congregants saw crosses all the time, while Mum went to Catholic mass where she saw not only crosses but the crucified Jesus with clockwork regularity.

Not so the kids at LBHQ. While their exposure to Christian doctrines hasn’t been expressly curtailed, the family nevertheless does not attend church, does not pray, does not say grace, does not promise eternal salvation after death, does not threaten eternal punishment, and does not spookily assert that Granny is watching them from the sky. (They don’t even let me tell them about Fluffy.)

Some highly unChristian treatment from Miss P

What the kids are getting might be called, if you had to label it (and occasionally Mum is asked by a fellow parent to do so) a secular humanist upbringing. The kids are discouraged from pillaging, stealing, killing, torturing, raping, etc., but without any deity commanding it. Meanwhile they’re encouraged to share, to be kind, to have empathy, etc. So far it’s working; there’s no sign of psychopathy or collusion with Satan, although their empathy is limited to fellow humans and Cuddles the cat.

No big deal, we thought. Live and let live. Lots of our neighbors worship, and that’s fine. Fine, also, if we don’t, right?

No way, José. Certain parents won’t do playdates with us. Others will, but they’re uncomfortable having kids at their table who don’t pray before eating their apple slices, so they make a point of educating P and V about Jesus Christ. The parents who trick-or-treated alongside us were upset by a pumpkin with Freddy Kreuger’s face carved into it (“That’s wrong, that’s Satan”). But finding a crucifixion picture in the Halloween candy was a first for us, people.

Even couched in kid-friendly syntax, vicarious redemption is a complicated doctrine. Coming from Christian homes, my parents grew up trying to wrap their heads around it, and finally couldn’t. They will discuss it avidly, and they’ll happily talk about any and all religious teachings with the kids—just as they’ll happily explore history and literature from all cultures. Some things they feel the kids are too young for—“Ulysses,” for example, “Breaking Bad,” David Lynch movies, and the bible. They wouldn’t read Leviticus to the kids any more than they’d take them to see “The Dark Knight Rises.” It’s too scary. There’s too much context. There’s too much to analyze, and at ages 5 and 7, P and V don’t yet have the full toolbox for it. As those cognitive skills come into place, they’ll have their pick of three bibles in the house. If they wish.

Doesn’t it strike you that religion vis-à-vis childraising is…personal? It seemed downright gauche of our neighbor to anonymously slip some propaganda in with the Milk Duds. Maybe just a little over the line…

We receive plenty of tracts from various Christian organizations through our mail slot, and unless they contain graphically violent pictures, they end up splayed openly across the coffee table with the bills and pizza flyers. It’s not that we would have hidden a religious pamphlet from the kids (although we probably wouldn’t show them a picture of a guy nailed to a cross)—it’s just weird that someone felt compelled to place that literature among the kids’ treats, rather than entrust it to the parents or—you’d think—let the parents just do whatever they’re doing, religious or not.

Said my dad not for the first time, This is an odd demographic.

Sure, this is a very religious area. So in a very non-religious area would we expect to find a Planned Parenthood brochure in the treat bag? How about a pamphlet on evolution or stem-cell research or same-sex marriage?

How many of V and P’s classmates’ parents would be outraged to find this in a Halloween bag?

Embarrassingly for Langley, probably plenty.

We were on a roll now, thinking of unsuitable Halloween items. Condoms! Lube! Diet pills! How about (I suggested hopefully) some airline-size alcohol bottles?

Why not? When you start depositing religious propaganda in a child’s Halloween bag, you’re taking a political shot across the bow. You’re making a Trojan horse of an innocent little trick-or-treater for your personal ideology. You’re hijacking something childlike for your own adult agenda. And that is uncool.

ASTROLIQUOR for November 2-8—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

Aries, you won’t want to get out of bed this week. Your hair is matted with amaretto and coconut milk. Shake it off and take a shower. Better still, head for a public bath and inflict your funk on others. After some heavy-duty scrubbing you’ll be ready to give that work presentation the amaretto was helping you forget. Chill out, it will succeed, and then you’ll be invited to a nice restaurant. Drinks on the corporate card 🙂

Taurus, try to write down your dreams as soon as you wake up. This will be especially challenging, as pomegranate vodka tends to quash REM sleep. Do try though, and add some triple sec to shake your neurons up—it may lead to an exciting invention or piece of art, which in turn will lead to an enchanting flirtation.

Cupid aims right at you on Sunday, Gemini, although the stars like to hedge their bets by saying love/fornication could happen on any of the days preceding or following that blessed day. Vodka will break the ice, but your longterm partner may break your head when he/she sees you mating with someone new. Ouch!

Cancer, over the years your relationships have changed. While some friendships have slipped away, the alcohol-fueled ones are going strong, yet becoming less meaningful. Rather than overanalyze it, throw yourself into a creative project. Sip just enough Bailey’s to retain your presence of mind, especially if power tools are involved. Stop thinking about sleeping with that Aquarius; it’s not worth the hassle.

Leo, you’re usually good at standing up for yourself, but this week people use and abuse you. Could it be that Jose Cuervo compromises your feelings of self-worth? OMG! Seek out positive people who assist you in pursuing self-awareness. Mind your boundaries and tell the neighbor who wants to borrow a cup of sugar to take a hike.

The stars call for dangerous personal interactions this week, Virgo. They say (they say) your marriage or longterm relationship will benefit if you have a fling with a stranger. Keep in mind that the stars are really far away and pretty busy carrying out complex nuclear reactions that convert lighter elements into heavy ones. They don’t know shit about love and sex, and when they tell you to mix stout and cider they have no idea how it will turn out. That shit would evaporate on the surface of a star. It wouldn’t even exist in the first place. Stupid stars.

Libra, your loyalty is challenged this week. Be careful about excessive horniness. If you have a spouse, carefully consider the implications of straying.  Maybe you’d do better to avoid temptation and hole up with a 46er of Seagrams 7. If you need to soul-search, find an Aries to talk to, but not one covered in rancid coconut milk and amaretto.

The stars know your life is on an uptick, Scorpio, but they persist in recommending silly drinks. Corona with a shot of rum in it? Sounds gross, but things are going so well for you that…why not? With your positive energy, you’re a magnet for friends right now. Have a party on Saturday and get rid of all that Corona. If you don’t, who knows what the stars will want you to throw in it next week.

Sagittarius, try expressing your feelings this week; it’ll improve your work relationships and help you shake off that nagging worry that there’s a target on your back. Sunday’s your best day; mix this up:

  • 2 oz Cointreau
  • 2 oz Grand Marnier
  • 2 oz vodka
  • 2 oz cognac
  • 2 oz apricot brandy

Looks like you’ll be calling in sick on Monday; isn’t it great you sorted all your crap out first?

Are you single, Capricorn? This week two suitors will vie for your affection. Go for the one who can handle a daily breakfast pick-me-up of Bailey’s, Frangelico, and Grand Marnier. But don’t feel obligated to make it work. Your flirtatious period starts this Sunday and carries on through January, so you have time to be choosy.

Aquarius, you’ll face a big decision this week involving career, finance, or both. It may have to do with your job sucking. Would you rather go to school? Or would you like another job? Don’t ask your family to weigh in; they’ve been waiting to stage an intervention regarding the pile of whiskey bottles on your lawn. (Class it up with some vermouth and benedictine while you consider your life choices.)

Pisces, this week you decide that money and career are not that important. Given that you have neither, this is a deeply satisfying conclusion. But do think about your living arrangements and sustenance; you need minimal necessities, and your J&B, Crown Royal, and Southern Comfort won’t just come out of the ether.

Is your Halloween checklist complete? The must-have ingredient you may be missing…

The Halloween shopping happened today.

One black cat with sparkly ears and pink wig…Check.

One jeweled princess with spare doll-size outfit (guess who’s wearing it)…Check.

Two pumpkins sitting outside so they don’t rot before the big day…Check.

Six bags of Halloween candy…Not safe to buy it yet; my mum will devour it.

Pumpkin carving kit…OMG, pumpkin guts make me barf! I hate being near that stuff. What if they try and rope me into it? OMG!!

Vodka to make a Pumpkin Divine…Not yet…

After all that relentless shopping, could they not stop into the liquor store for some Grey Goose and triple sec, then find out where the hell Martha Stewart’s enemies might find pumpkin butter? (What the crap is that anyway??)…Oh hell, just vodka would have done. Somebody make one and tell me how it tastes! Meanwhile, I’ll make one here with…gin…and Malibu. Close enough.