dimanche, novembre 01, 2009

It was a mash

I don't understand why the town fathers decided that they would shut down Creek Road in the late afternoon. Early evening for trick or treating still makes the most sense -- it's truly dark and people can sit out on their Victorian porches flooded with candlelight and strange Halloween gizmos from big box stores.

But although we rushed to get Mr. C to the development with the biggest and safest place to trick or treat, he quickly ended up walking to our local park with his friends. There squirrels and Phillies fans (of course), wizards and other characters, including what seemed to be a pregnant blonde man, ate pizza and hot chocolate donated by our local business owner and town supervisor, Bryan.

The DJs played "YMCA" and other pop classics, and affluent city escapees jostled happily with less-wealthy long time Wallace residents. One of the things I love about the town is that, though grudges can run deep sometimes, everyone gets together and socializes, at least a few times during the year.

Some things have changed. Last year my daughter rang doorbells for chocolate with a friend -- this year, she went to a town close to Lancaster to go out with a group. Mr. C's two best friends from last year (still good friends with one another) aren't as close to him anymore -- though they spent hours in the videogame truck together. He doesn't seem worried, but I feel a bit sad.

None of my adult friends were there this year, telling me that maybe next year my own offspring may be too old for the pagan feast.

And yet -- as I sat by myself, sipping hot cider, I appreciated being part of the crowd -- sweaty and wet and a little loud.

We left just around the time of the Halloween parade -- behind us the tennis courts, ahead the graveyard, and the old church, and across the quiet street Bryan's deli, the only food in town.

Coming back from Parkesburg, the DQ and I listened to a little rock and roll on our longtime Philly station. A woman, at a party, called in to ask for a song -- we haven't played that yet, said the announcer.


Wa - oooh, the DQ and I sang softly in the car, cornfields and tree farms speeding by, moments from home. When you get to my door, tell them Boris sent you.

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