Tithing

Halloween took over the weekend. I forgot what a big deal it is this side of the Atlantic! Ah, childhood memories. But it's different too. I suppose it always is, in a Proustian kind of way. (No, I haven't read it either, but I think that's what I mean.) The kids had parties, dances, and parades at school on the Friday, attended a neighbourhood pumpkin-carving gathering (with treats) at a local park, scooped out and designed jack-o'lanterns at home, went to a friend's house for a party on Sunday and then at long last embarked on the main event, trick-or-treating. That was where it got disappointing, for me at least. Back in England, in Brighton, the pickings were fewer, much further between, and necessitated more walking, but we did it en masse. I had friends, we brought each other flasks of tea, or soup, phoned each other to meet up with yet more parents and children, and the kids marauded happily through well-known streets. Here it was just me and my three, finding our way. Yes, we stopped in at houses of people we knew, got tips about the best route, and we met schoolfriends on the streets, but we were not part of a gang. Our gang's in England, still. That's the thing about holidays; they show up the gaps. I was lonely last night.

On the plus side the children garnered many, many candies (the eldest two counted 147 and 135 pieces, respectively). Not as many as I remember getting, but I don't have documentary evidence. I do know that when I was young, my mother used to let us eat a few of our sweets on Halloween evening, and then, horror of horrors, she took our sacks away for 'safekeeping'. This safekeeping always resulted in a severe diminution of the booty when next we looked on Candy Day, which occurred every Saturday, the only day on which we were allowed to eat sweets. Last night I decided, in rebellious response, to go for the open and above-board approach: I tithed. The kids had to give me 10% of their sweets, which I must say they did without complaint. Luckily they are not fans of Reese's peanut butter cups. nor of 'rockets' (aka 'smarties', in my day) or Coffee Crisps, so I'm pretty happy with my haul. The children will face no shortage when the weekend rolls around and they get to indulge again-- on Sweet Saturday, the only day of the week they are allowed to eat candy. (Sometimes Mom is right.)