Autumn has arrived, and with it, crisp apples, fresh cider, and clogged gutters. New Englanders are nailing Indian corn to their doors while the sound of metal rakes on sidewalks drives psychopaths to serial murder. With winter on the way, squirrels scurry about, collecting acorns and storing them in secret caches. For they know instinctively that in a few short months, these precious morsels can be sold on the black market at predatory prices.
The transformation of summer to fall has been a literary inspiration through the ages. It is the basis for Aesop's best-known fable, "The Ant and The Grasshopper," which extols the virtues of hard work and decries indolence. Nowadays, of course, the industrious ant would be laid off his job of thirty years and end up an alcoholic, while the lazy grasshopper would stash the take from his Ponzi scheme in an offshore account and flee the country before the idiots at the SEC catch on.
The joys of the season are many, warming the heart and delighting the eye. Some revel in the excitement of old college football rivalries. Others flock to harvest balls or take hayrides on moonlit nights. For me, it's the sublime weather that puts a smile on my face, the chill, bracing air which prevents people who weigh more than lawn tractors from parading around in sleeveless Celtics jerseys.
But the true highlight of autumn is that time in late October when the wind turns bitter, and gloom settles over the city like a burial shroud. No, I'm not talking about the Red Sox being eliminated from the playoffs, but Halloween, Christian holy day, commercialized celebration of the spooky, and pagan festival of high blood glucose levels.
Halloween is distinguished by the confluence of two powerful and mysterious forces - the supernatural and candy. What is this cosmic connection, and why, on this one day of the year, does it cause a heightened awareness of the otherworldly as well as rampant tooth decay?
Few people know this, but the spirit world is crazy about candy. Parapsychologists now theorize that ghosts are actually the souls of the dead who refuse to leave for higher realms because Junior Mints aren't available. They wander the earth ceaselessly, craving the sweet tastes and gooey textures they adored in life but can no longer experience in death. Dickens was wrong. Ghosts aren't tormented by good deeds not done, but Snickers not eaten.
Once a year on All Hallows Eve, the spirit world attains the power to influence the living. After invading the minds and bodies of well-meaning homeowners, these pudgy phantoms from beyond ply eager youngsters with enough refined sugar to make a black forest cake the size of the actual Black Forest. The children then grow up to be candy-addicted adults, and after their passing, new soldiers in this portly legion of darkness. And what weapons have we mere mortals to combat this evil? Toilet paper, shaving cream, and eggs.
There are those who believe that jack-o'lanterns provide some protection. Right, because nothing terrifies disembodied beings who exist beyond time and space like a rotting squash with a goofy smile. Unless it's made of
chocolate, they couldn't care less.
There are, however, certain precautions which vigilant parents can take to minimize the dangers and insure that the holiday affords their children a bit of carefree fun instead of an eternity of despair.
• Limit the amount of sweets your kid can collect. Don't let them go trick-or-treating with military issue duffel bags.
• Don't let them eat gummy candy with chocolate candy. Apart from providing a windfall for your dentist, this combination causes a heartburn that can bring down a bull moose.
• Once they've finished their treats, tether them securely to prevent interference with incoming air traffic.
While I do counsel caution and moderation, I despise those health nuts who drop toothbrushes into treat bags instead of candy. Back off, killjoys. This is the one night a year when adults have no say in what children stick in their mouths and regurgitate three hours later. Happy Halloween, everybody!
