30 October 2013
Tomorrow is Halloween, my favorite day of the year. I love watching kids have fun collecting and amassing the hoarded joy of childhood — great candy.
I am a giver, the bane of dentists everywhere, because I deal out what I loved to collect — big chocolate candy bars, the gooier the better. Nothing beats a good chocolate bar except a BIG good chocolate bar. I am a top-shelf Halloween supporter and will be ’til the day I die, an eventuality that may result from sampling too much candy.
Some of my friends are cheapskates and others are grinches. Cheapskates stay home in the dark watching TV, ignoring the doorbell and pretending not to be home. Or else they go out. They avoid buying treats and do not care about the life experiences of neighborhood kids during their formative years, gambling that child kindness is not an issue that arises at Heaven’s pearly gates.
Grinches are different. Grinches whine about childhood obesity and crow that they shall not bow to tradition. Some then dress up and hurry to adult Halloween parties, preferring to into the true spirit of the holiday by tossing drinks and posting selfie photos on Instagram or Facebook.
Adult costume parties are sad to me. Adults do virtually nothing in life better than children; and Halloween certainly proves it.
I also think that Halloween does not blimp kids up — it is the other 364 days of the year that form the jelly.
The calendar dictates that tomorrow I shall pause at sundown from whatever I’m doing to act surprised 50 times in a row upon answering the door. I am glad to do this because I am a method actor and understand my motivation.
Part of what I’ll be pausing from is trying to raise money for charity. This year’s beneficiary is the Marine Corps Scholarship Fund, which collects cash so kids who lost a parent serving our nation can have the chance to go to college. This seems important to me.
This is the first year I’ve tried to get with the times and raise money electronically for such a noble cause and I must say the new way — using technology instead of talking to my friends — stinks. Compared to “old school” methods like handwritten letters mailed off with self-addressed, stamped envelopes, the impersonal digital shill is most hollow.
I think my lack of fundraising success this year feels doubly frustrating because the stock market is way up — the Dow is at a record high — and Americans are happily burning far more cash than during the tightfisted pits of our neurotic sky-is-falling days.
Americans, whether it be by blood and culture, seem unable to resist the urge to spend. Buying is gratifying and saving is boring and hence the registers ring.
To underscore the banality of current purchase trends, let’s examine the sale of pet costumes.
This year’s total pet costume purchases will average out to $1 per every man, woman, and child in the nation. About $330 million will be spent on Halloween outfits for pets. To frame that frivolity, let’s compare that $330 million to what pet owners spent on costumes last year.
In 2012 pet owners spent $220 million. The meteoric explosion from $220 to $330 million in just one year says a lot about Americans. I have my opinions on what that message but leave you free to draw your own conclusions.
The pet industry is very big. Estimated at $55.5 billion in annual sales, the pet supplies business is growing faster than the nation’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP). Conversely, charity giving is up a mere 3.5% year over year.
Pet industry analysts point to three main factors for the growth, those being that overall pet ownership is on the rise, America has a growing number of retirees, and couples are waiting later to start families. All segments enjoy spoiling and spending on their pets.
Couple these feelings of emotional obligation with a general belief that the economy is in better shape, and it’s easy to sway buyers through target advertising, peer pressure, and point of sale displays. The results are clear: People are blowing ever increasing amounts of dough on make-believe kids.
For those who are wondering, this year’s top-selling pet costume is a banana. Last year’s top human costume was . . . a banana. From these bookend data points you are free to draw your own conclusion.
I am a dog guy and both of mine prefer kids in costumes to being humiliated in one of my choosing. They like being dogs and I like them being dogs. If I wanted a pet banana, I’d buy a bunch.
My rules for Halloween are simple: Buy good candy for the kids, make a fuss over them when they arrive, and gladly hand it over.
And while you’re at it, peel off some lettuce for needy, deserving charities.
Then, if you must, blow cash on the dog or cat so it can look like Elvis or fruit. Better yet, save your money and make an outfit.
A cat can’t graduate college but a kid who does can change the world. So, as Spike Lee became famous for saying, “Do the right thing.”
The right thing is always the right thing.