Trick or... hey, no one is here.

As I lay back in my comfy love seat after a considerably painful experience removing my wisdom teeth today, I am blessed to find time to once again keep up with this blog.

Last night, I took a good friend's son out for Halloween. He is three and obsessed with the good looks, web-shooting power, and smarts of a one Peter Parker. The costume my friend got for him was no less obsessive: a uni-body spandex number with well-articulated pads resembling muscles over the top half of the torso. My fine three year old friend had "guns" as one candy-giving neighbor exclaimed as he approached the door.

Strolling the streets, I noticed a significant absence of house lights, which normally illuminate the streets quite sufficiently. My presumption was correct in that the homes were not interested in little ghoulish visitors. I find this to be very reasonable for some homeowners, however the frequency of these homes seems to be increasing with each passing Halloween.

In addition the visitations at each home seemed to increase in awkwardness. When I was three and running around, the neighbors brought us in for a short cup of coffee and prodded and poked at our costumes with interest. It was all very community-oriented in estimation. And then some kid was taken seriously ill with poisoned candy a decade or two ago in some remote part of the country and the whole concept of Halloween drew an ominous glare from the overzealous paranoia of the American public.

Upon returning the home base last night, three pieces of candy were to be inspected and then authorized for young Spiderman's consumption. Indeed, I remember my mother inspecting candy herself, though rarely did it pass an inspection as it would have been consumed in the "taste-testing" phase my mother insisted on.

Regardless, all the candy I noticed last night seemed contained in its original wrapping. No home-cooked popcorn balls like I used to receive (when the great panic set in, this particular house in my old neighborhood kept producing them, only they would attach their name, address, and phone number to each item, which still drew ire and they stopped--a shame too, they were very good).

As we move closer and closer in proximity to one another in cities, the greater the distance between neighbors seems to grow. It would seem Americans are socially stupid, awkward, perhaps the best word: terrified. I find it disheartening. When I lived in St. Peter during college, I befriended a number of St. Peter residents an was invited to their home for dinner on more than one occasion. Everyone knew each other and strangers were looked upon with cautious optimism. The point really falls into distinct view: as urban Americans, we bought into the terror machine so easily I find it pathetic. Lest we not forget our president's swift hijacking of September 11, 2001 in order to terrify us into submission giving way to two wars, a crippled economy, and the TSA (they still haven't confiscated the small pocket knife on my keys in my pocket!).

That's a bit outside the scope of this pithy, sorry, but it really irks me. Moving on, as we plug into more and more social networking sites, I can safely say we're all losing the capacity to talk face to face and interact on a personal level. It's saddening because I'm a very social person and believe me, my computer, though well appreciated as a tool in my life, doesn't talk back. If you ever find the time, research exactly how many poisoned-candy incidents there were in US history. I think you'll come to the same conclusion I have: I'm keeping my front light on for those trick-or-treaters.