No ghosts or goblins knocking on our door


My wife and I have celebrated a few holidays together. Decades of them, in fact. Iíd have to check a couple of records, but I do believe that this year was the twenty-fifth Halloween weíve spent together in the same home.

We have never had anyone stop at our door to trick-or-treat.

Not once. Twenty-five years of Halloweens.

Some of that isnít exactly a fair thought. When you take the kids out on their own costumed adventures, often it can mean the lights are off at your address. If someone did knock, and didnít elect to leave a trick when you werenít home to offer a treat, you wouldnít necessarily know.

But there is definitely more to the story. Because Terry and I have never lived in a place where anyone would be able to map out a really good plan that included our door and resulted in a truly memorable haul of candy for the night. Doors a bit too far apart. Not as many places to visit on each street. No shortcuts or easy paths to the next row of houses.

Terry and I, for this reason or that, are not a convenient trick or treat destination. Weíre in the not-worth-it area.

Which, of course, leads me to ponder this: Why do people live where they live?

And before you answer, allow me to direct the question a bit more. I understand people try to live close to family and employers and good schools and we could go on. But Iím looking to remove a few of those considerations. Iím kicking around if people ever wonder about needing multiple pillow cases for the candy collected when it comes to settling in to a new address. Where does stuff like this simply fall off into the world of happy accidents and unexpected challenges?

This may be hard for you to believe, but there are actually people that decide to live in a city. On purpose. They truly meant to do it.

(I know. Me either. So, get ready, because this is going to get crazier.)

These people actually think itís pretty sweet to be living in the city.

Funny, but if you approached these city folks and asked them, most donít understand people that want to live in rural settings. (If you want to really stump them, describe towns where you couldnít find an open store within one hundred miles to sell you a toothbrush after 5 on a weekday afternoon. They will stare at you in unbelieving silence, more likely to accept the existence of unicorns than such a retail dilemma.)

And while Iím trying to approach it with a bit of humorósome might say a very little bit of humor, which, fair enoughóthe truth is we mostly look for comfort, and all of us find comfort in different things.

I donít know why Halloween tends to be the time I think about such things. There are plenty of moments when Iím raising my eyes toward the sky as the frustrations of dining options nearby limits my thoughts for dinner. But, when youíre repeatedly presented with a couple of burger joints and a few pizza shops, youíre already in trouble (and thatís before the reality sets in that the burgers and pizza available arenít that great).

There will come a day when the bell will ring. There will be a knock. And some child, incredibly proud of their costume selection, will be prepared for me to open the door.

I look forward to such a day. Honestly canít wait. Iíll probably pour our entire bowl into that kidís pillowcase and be smiling for weeks.

But until that day, Iím, not too upset by the lack of traffic along our driveway on October 31st (or any other day). Itís quite peaceful. Great surroundings. (Just donít ask me whatís for dinner.)


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