Halloween, The Sequel (LynnK)

I am bereft. Consumed with longings. I needs me some candy, doggone it. I can’t stop thinking about chocolate-coated caramel and nougat. This must be the only residence on the island without a Milky Way. I am Snickersless. I imagine mugging a toddler and swiping his Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I crave candy corn. Tonight, in the throes of sugar deprivation, even a Tootsie Pop would do me.

But there’s none to be had. Not here, where Trick-or-Treaters fear to tread. No street light, for one thing. The end of the block is closed off for The Construction Project That Never Ends. And my apartment door lies down an unlit passageway between two buildings.

The first year here at the end of the Halloween world, I bought bags of candy, turned on all the lights, and awaited cute costumed kiddies. But all I got were a few dead-enders, “kids” old enough to shave who prowl the mean streets late into the evening, wringing every last piece of free swag from anyone awake and willing to open the door. I could have handed over my entire supply to those bloodsuckers, but . . . mmmm. M&Ms. Pint-sized Butterfingers. Little Almond Joys. Clearly, the Universe meant them for meeeeee.

I didn’t wolf it all down. Indeed, the candy was parceled out, one mini-bar or snack pack a day, timed to end when Lent began. Not that I ever give up anything for Lent, but it was a gesture of sort, a nod to virtues I never had.

Nowadays, I don’t buy Halloween supplies. Not even the day after, when stores are practically giving the candy away. Put it down to the low-carb diet I have been on and off, more or less, expanding and contracting, since the Eisenhower Aministration. But the longing for the treats of my childhood never abates. Junior Mints. Red Hots. Big Hunks. I still go for the big hunks, of course, but the definition has changed.

While I’ve given up my favorite part of the holiday---tooth-rotting, butt-padding, crammed-with-artificial-everything confections---I still love Halloween. And here in “The Village,” where everyone gets into the spirit, it’s especially fun. Join me for a bit of my Halloween walk.



On Halloween Afternoon, it's Trick-or-Treat time downtown (about seven blocks long).
Merchants supply the treats, and just about everyone shows up for the unofficial parade of costumes. This is a bank with a rather unorthodox security guard.






He says he's a low-fat, low-salt "turkey dog." Typical SoCal health nut!





Many parents get in the spirit of dress-up. Here's a Pharoah escorting his Pharette.







In Victorian Garb, the Lambs Theatre Players hand out some goodies.


A haunted house. It's tough to look mysterious and haunted with all that lush greenery!




Hey, fella. Do I know you? Didn't we go out? In the eighties, I think. But maybe you just remind me of, well, just about all my dates back then.







And here is the To-Be-Haunted-House, being renovated since 2004. See all the progress?! I'm in no hurry to shuffle off this mortal coil, but at the rate this project is going, I'll probably turn up my toes before it's finished. At which point, I think I'll move in. It's right next door, and there are worse places to spend the afterlife.

Besides, every B&B needs a ghost. I'll be the one filching muffins from the breakfast trays, soaking in the jacuzzi after midnight, and making strange noises in the early morning hours. Noises that sound like the backing-up beepers on a truck.