Don’t let virus kill Halloween
Kids need holiday now more than ever.
Driving my kids to school this week, it’s clear Halloween won’t be the same.
As I scan the blur of front yards, and recall previous years, I’d guess there’s an 80per-cent drop in pumpkins, tombstones, skeletons, cobwebs, ghosts and bloodied limbs jutting up from the fall shrubbery that was once gloriously turned into the bowels of hell.
With the possible exception of Christmas, Halloween is the most thrilling holiday for a child. Even behind the makeup and costumes, you can see the joy radiating as vampires, witches and werewolves amble up to your door and shake you down for candy with a mumbled “trick or treat.”
I have yet to see a trick. But over the years, I have lined the pockets of Nestlé, Mars and Cadbury investors by handing out thousands of chocolate bars to any goblin or bumblebee who asked. Halloween is to a kid as Vegas is to a degenerate gambler.
But this year, COVID-19 means all bets are off. And for kids across the GTA, this weekend is when the pandemic gets real: HALLOWEEN-20 is going to feel less like the craps table inside the MGM Grand and more like, well, crap.
Although not cancelled like a TV show — I will miss you, “Schitt’s Creek” — Halloween is definitely on hiatus as the coronavirus keeps saying “boo.” The province has slapped a “not recommended” advisory on door-to-door bonbon transactions in areas of high transmission, including Toronto.
“Not recommended” seems wishy-washy. Is this “not recommended” as in squirting ketchup on sushi? Or is it “not recommended” as in sticking your finger in an electrical socket?
Either way, it’s the kids who are absorbing the shock.
And you know what? It’s not fair. I’m not trying to be provocative. Honestly, I get how crucial it is for everyone to act responsibly right now. But if fans can whoop it up in the stands at the World Series — and many were not wearing masks — why can’t our kids venture out and maintain social distancing while hitting up any nearby houses that are open for trick-or-treating? You mean to tell me the so-called leader of the free world can host demented superspreader rallies in hot zones and our little ones can’t sling an N95 under their Baby Yoda masks and collect a few fond memories?
My daughters are now too old for Halloween, which is exactly my point. Last year was their last one. We forget the fleeting nature of this pagan ritual — Halloween pretty much ends at puberty. Yes, after the jacko’-lantern stops flickering, a few teenage outlaws will show up in street clothes and demand what’s left of your Oh Henry! stash. But for the most part, the sweet spot for the trick-or-tweet demo is between the ages of four and 12. That’s just nine years.
So missing one year cuts lifetime Halloweens by about 11 per cent.
Not cool, coronavirus. Not cool!
Look, I’m not trying to foment a rebellion with parents who have already witnessed how this pandemic has upended young lives. I’m certainly not encouraging anyone to take their kids out and start banging on darkened doors to demand Kit Kats and M&Ms while trying to pretend everything is normal. Life is not normal. It won’t be for many more months.
All I’m saying is don’t let COVID-19 put HALLOWEEN-20 in an early grave.
Don’t let the virus infect your sense of occasion.
The other night, I was rewatching the final two Harry Potter movies with my daughters. My wife nuked popcorn with imagined spices from the Hogwarts’ mess hall — it smelled absolutely disgusting — and we killed the lights and scattered candles everywhere. The experience reminded me a bit of Halloween because that’s exactly what Halloween is: atmosphere and empty calories.
The coronavirus need not rob kids of either this weekend.
If you’re going to shrug off the “not recommended” advisory, maintain two metres of distance, be safe and courteous, pack hand sanitizer and have at it. Just don’t feel guilty about giving your kids a few minutes of magic under a darkened sky. They deserve it, now more than ever.
And if trick-or-treating is a risk not worth taking, you can still conjure the magic without ever leaving home. I’m telling you, candles! Spooky music. Scary movies. Candy scavenger hunts. Costumes for the entire family. Ghost stories. Terrifying pranks. When my girls were younger, I used to hide a Bluetooth speaker and, when they least expected it, play the sounds of demonic cackling and howling coyotes and creepy pipe organs.
They’d shriek and jump into my arms and then we’d laugh uncontrollably.
Parenting is hard enough at the best of times. Parenting during a pandemic feels like trying to run up a down escalator with an anvil around your neck. You are exhausted and trapped in a state of suspended animation. You’re trying to mute your own anxiety and keep the little ones happy.
So, no, Halloween won’t be the same this year. But that doesn’t mean it still can’t be memorable and magical.