The Missus and I spent a relatively uneventful Hallowe’en, taking turns answering the door for what turned out to be a normal turnout of about 200 trick-or-treaters.
Earlier in the day, I had prepared a cauldron of barley soup, enriched with chunks of beef shank. Perfect end-of-October food. And, acting on the Iron Whim of She Who Must Be Obeyed, I made up a gallon of hot mulled apple cider. The original plan was for us to sit out on the front stoop with our friends Gary and JoAnn, eating soup, handing out candy, and sipping hot cider. We’d also hand out cups of hot cider to any passing adults who needed a warming drink.
Gary and JoAnn bailed, so that left the two of us. Instead of sitting outside, we set up the cider by the door, adjacent to the candy bowl.
We didn’t have a lot of takers for the cider, but the few who tried it liked it. And I liked mine even more, for I was doctoring every other cup with a healthy dollop of Calvados.
This year, the kids were generally polite and well-behaved. Few of them needed prompting to remember to invoke the Ritual Incantation, and there were no boys who appeared to be of Shaving Age or above. While I did have to retrieve a few paper cups and candy wrappers from the bushes, at least there was none of the usual Hallowe’en debris, which typically consists of wads of Silly String randomly spewed.
The Costume of the Day was worn by a little guy - couldn’t have been more than seven - that, later, upon reflection, I realized was an occasional attendee (with his mother) at morning minyan. He was decked out in a leopard-skin tuxedo with velour lapels and was wearing a huge, frizzy, black wig. After handing him his Candy Offering, I asked him, “What are you supposed to be?”
His response? “I’m a Mack Daddy. Everybody asks the same question.”
Mack Daddy indeed.
As the evening wore on, I was rescued from Door Duty by Meryl Yourish, who called for her evening Haftarah lesson. With her Bat Mitzvah looming - it’s this Saturday - it is officially Crunch Time. But she has most of her Haftarah down pat, and she’ll be able to bull her way through a few of the more tricky verses if push comes to shove. Alas, the Missus and I will not be there to hear it live and in person.
And meanwhile, what were our kiddies doing?
Well, the Mistress of Sarcasm was at work, but being in Savannah this time of year is like attending a week-long Hallowe’en party anyway. Meanwhile, Elder Daughter dressed herself up as the legendary Josephine Baker. Yes, we have no danses bananes.
Elder Daughter dresses up as Josephine Baker.
How was your Hallowe’en?
Earlier in the day, I had prepared a cauldron of barley soup, enriched with chunks of beef shank. Perfect end-of-October food. And, acting on the Iron Whim of She Who Must Be Obeyed, I made up a gallon of hot mulled apple cider. The original plan was for us to sit out on the front stoop with our friends Gary and JoAnn, eating soup, handing out candy, and sipping hot cider. We’d also hand out cups of hot cider to any passing adults who needed a warming drink.
Gary and JoAnn bailed, so that left the two of us. Instead of sitting outside, we set up the cider by the door, adjacent to the candy bowl.
We didn’t have a lot of takers for the cider, but the few who tried it liked it. And I liked mine even more, for I was doctoring every other cup with a healthy dollop of Calvados.
This year, the kids were generally polite and well-behaved. Few of them needed prompting to remember to invoke the Ritual Incantation, and there were no boys who appeared to be of Shaving Age or above. While I did have to retrieve a few paper cups and candy wrappers from the bushes, at least there was none of the usual Hallowe’en debris, which typically consists of wads of Silly String randomly spewed.
The Costume of the Day was worn by a little guy - couldn’t have been more than seven - that, later, upon reflection, I realized was an occasional attendee (with his mother) at morning minyan. He was decked out in a leopard-skin tuxedo with velour lapels and was wearing a huge, frizzy, black wig. After handing him his Candy Offering, I asked him, “What are you supposed to be?”
His response? “I’m a Mack Daddy. Everybody asks the same question.”
Mack Daddy indeed.
As the evening wore on, I was rescued from Door Duty by Meryl Yourish, who called for her evening Haftarah lesson. With her Bat Mitzvah looming - it’s this Saturday - it is officially Crunch Time. But she has most of her Haftarah down pat, and she’ll be able to bull her way through a few of the more tricky verses if push comes to shove. Alas, the Missus and I will not be there to hear it live and in person.
And meanwhile, what were our kiddies doing?
Well, the Mistress of Sarcasm was at work, but being in Savannah this time of year is like attending a week-long Hallowe’en party anyway. Meanwhile, Elder Daughter dressed herself up as the legendary Josephine Baker. Yes, we have no danses bananes.
Elder Daughter dresses up as Josephine Baker.
How was your Hallowe’en?
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