The Day Before November

"We were brown and tall, Jew and small, freckled fat, bucktooth flat

black and broken, short and Christian, with teeth and hair in every direction.
We were 20 different ways on how to pitch or catch a ball,

but the day before November was the best day of the fall."
-Vance Gilbert

I would like to share this video of my friend Vance Gilbert singing a song. Go watch. 

Welcome back. I hope you liked it. It is in my head and I wanted to share this gem with you, in this world that is not friendly and not fun, and Halloween not being what Vance sings about here anymore anyway. It makes me sad. But such is our lives anymore. And what a story to tell. As only Vance sometimes can.

It is Halloween night. 

I'm drinking red wine, which is not my favorite. I prefer Pinot Grigio. But it is a kind thing because we are transportation challenged and Geoff ordered beer and wine online, and this was what they had. So I'm not complaining at all because he was thoughtful. 

Thoughtful is outstanding. 

I've been working really hard at trying to fix the monkey's breakfast that a "designer" made of Aaron's website (it's not that bad but I'm super stumped on a few very key elements like how to edit the navigation and how to change the header photos. My head hurts from this, so I gave up for the night and we settled in for dinner and looking out the window. 

Our county is "strongly advising" against door to door trick or treating, or Trunk or Treating, or any contact children would make with a neighbor's front door. 

We thought for certain at least one kid would come a-knocking but no one did. 

We watched a hoard of 15 kids and 10 parents walk down the road, everyone was dressed up, everyone was laughing, but I think they were going to another house down the road with more kids and more parents and making the best of what this all is, together. Without visiting upon folk like us. 

Initially it made me mad, but then I felt like .... okay. They've made an arrangement with friends, they're doing something when folks should do nothing, but they are doing so with their own knowledge and plans. 

I can't be mad. I went to Oregon and all that, right?

But, I missed them. I wanted kids to come to the door or at least down the bottom step and yell. I was willing to chuck some treats into open bags. 

I thought about making a chute to send things down. I thought about decorating and putting something on Nextdoor to let people know we'd be here and we had a sanitary plan. But I had no energy going into this. No heart. No execution. 

I miss the children. I really love when the kids come around. It was kind of a drudgery when I had to do it as a parent, but now? I love it. 

I love saying "you can take more than one." I love the creativity of the costumes. I love getting to know some of the kids and knowing who they are in the neighborhood. 

And this year, without Brodie, there is no barking or surprise for when people ring the bell. 

Last year it was so nice, I was out barefoot. One of the real benefits of living in the DC area is the late October weather.

When we lived in Massachusetts, we only had one house where we got a goodly amount of Halloweeners. Here, we get a great turn out, and this year is just sad. 

Here's a photo of me from last halloween. I didn't dress up for 2019 the way I did when we were in Boston, and the first year in DC when we dressed as Bob's Burgers. 

I wore this shirt again today, and I wanted to show it to people coming up on the porch as an everlasting reminder. But it is not to be. 

Next year, I guess. I hope. I truly hope.