Here There Be Glow Sticks: The Teal Pumpkin Project

Sonny and Ace have been planning for Halloween for weeks. Maybe even months. Possibly since last November 1. It’s probably time for me to start paying attention to their plans—especially since none of Google’s results for “easy porcupine costume” look sufficiently easy. I foresee toothpicks and a hot glue gun in my very near future.

And candy. I foresee lots of candy, as over the last few decades people have grown generous with their offerings. While back in the day my sisters and I were generally issued one Tootsie Roll midge or hard pink bubble gum pellet per house, Sonny and Ace often score a multiple candy bars or a handful of Skittles packets with each ring of the doorbell. On the one hand, the plethora of sugar and food dye makes me cringe; on the other hand, without it how would I be able to surreptitiously pillage my sons’ treat bags for Milk Duds?

Fondness of Milk Duds notwithstanding, I consider it good news that FARE (Food Allergy Research and Communication) has launched a new tradition this year: The Teal Pumpkin Project. Participants in this campaign will display a teal-painted pumpkin or sign (download and print one here) to indicate the availability of non-edible treats. This helps kids with allergies, intolerances, diabetes, and other dietary restrictions to fully and safely participate in the evening’s fun.

The Halloween purists have popped up, however, questioning the distribution of anything other than sugary treasure on October 31. Common comments and questions about the idea include the following:

  1. Kids will resent being given a pencil or sticker instead of candy. Some will. But tastes vary. Some kids resent being given M&Ms. Some kids resent being given candy corn. Most kids resent being given those black licorice taffies or Necco. (Just being honest here.) And I recall resenting a certain mysterious rectangular confection apparently composed of nougat and birdseed. But that’s okay. Win a few, lose a few.
  2. Kids with allergies have to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Oh, they’ve learned that already. They’ve learned that from foregoing cake at birthday parties. They’ve learned from ordering salad while their friends order pizza. They’ve learned from sprouting rashes after consuming even a smidgen of food dye. They’ve learned from sitting at isolated lunch tables so that peanuty air wafting from someone else’s sandwich won’t cut off their air supply. So, rest easy: receiving a glow stick or a spider ring instead of a Kit-Kat bar won’t catapult them into a life of egocentricity.
  3. If they can’t eat candy, they should just stay home. Really? Trick-or-treating is about wearing costumes and having fun in one’s neighborhood. Why should they skip an evening of laughter and running house to house—remember how much fun that was? These kids will have a good time even if some, most, or all candy is off-limits to them. (But being offered a pencil or a glow stick would be a bonus, don’t you think?)
  4. Why are these kids (or their parents) acting so entitled? Nobody is demanding anything. Nobody is acting entitled. Teal pumpkins simply serve as a signal that non-candy treats are being offered. Voluntarily offered. (Actually, isn’t the expectation that one should receive candy instead of bookmarks or little containers of PlayDoh in itself somewhat entitled?)
  5. Aren’t trinkets more expensive than candy? Not necessarily. This depends on the particular trinkets and the particular candy, of course. I spent only about five dollars for about 75 non-edible treats—spider rings, stickers, and Halloween erasers—from the dollar store.
  6. That plastic junk won’t last long. No, probably not. Spider rings break and tattoos rub off. Glow sticks fade within hours. But Milk Duds (just for example) don’t last long, either. (Not that I would know anything about that.)
  7. Won’t this stuff eventually end up in the landfills? Some of it will—along with all of those candy wrappers and possibly much candy itself. (Especially that composed of nougat and birdseed.) But some non-edible treats, such as pencils and erasers, can be used up instead of thrown away.
  8. Why must Halloween become so complicated? Is it complicated, or is it progress? Is it complicated, or is it thoughtfulness? It’s no more complicated to buy Halloween pencils than it is to buy Nerds; painting a pumpkin teal—or printing out a sheet, coloring the pumpkin with a teal crayon, and taping it to your front window—is no more complicated than preparing any other Halloween decoration.
  9. If I hand out trinkets, can I still hand out candy, too? Yes. It’s helpful to offer them in separate bowls to avoid the risk of contamination.
  10. Halloween is about candy! Non-candy treats takes the fun out of everything. Actually, they add to the fun for those who can’t eat candy. And at the risk of using the word voluntary too many times in one post— this gesture is voluntary. If handing out spider rings would ruin your fun, then don’t do it!
  11. Do I really have to do this in order to be considered a good neighbor? No. Nobody will point and tsk at you you if you hand out candy. (I recommend Milk Duds.)

Thanks for considering this. A safe and happy Halloween to all.

 

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One Good Deed

Once upon a time, after a bombing that killed many civilians in Beirut, some reporters crowded around Mother Teresa as she helped load two wounded little girls into an ambulance. One reporter asked her if she considered her relief efforts successful—after all, another 100 children waited in another bombed-out hospital, and she wasn’t helping them.

Mother Teresa only replied, “Don’t you think it is a good thing to help these little ones?”

In defiance of the maxim that there is no such thing as a stupid question, the reporter repeated himself: “The other hospital has many wounded children, too. Can you call your efforts successful if you leave them unattended?”

Employing the patience of a saint, Mother Teresa simply stated, “I think it is a good thing to help these children.”

—————————–

Last week a Michigan police officer pulled over a driver for a traffic citation and noticed that the woman’s child was not restrained in a booster seat as the law required. The mother explained that her daughter’s booster seat had been repossessed along with her car in August. (If there is a good reason for car seats to be repossessed—perhaps a better word would be stolen—along with cars, I’d love to hear it. Anyone? Anyone?) She couldn’t afford to buy a new one.

Officer Ben Hall could have issued a ticket for this violation. Instead, he invited her to the nearby WalMart and bought her a car seat with his own money.

The story of his generosity has gone viral. I’ve read articles from many news sources, large and small. While doing so, I have, against my better judgment, occasionally descended below the article into the Reader Comments sections. (This is always a bad idea.)

Many of the comments have been positive and encouraging. But naturally, this being the Reader Comments section, many aren’t. The usual band of naysayers are naying fervently, lest . . . I don’t know; lest the Internet implode without their input?—shoring up the dictum that no good deed goes unpunished.

The Survivalists: “My generation never sat in car seats when we were kids! We wandered around the station wagon and even rode in the back of pick-up trucks. Somehow we managed to live.” (Except the ones who didn’t.)

The Eeyores: “That was nice of him. If the mother was telling the truth, that is. She probably wasn’t.” (No, she probably was. People often do.)

The Leapers of Logic: “That cop gets paid with my tax dollars, so my money bought that seat!” (Huh?)

The Projectors of Their Own Sexism: “He only did this because the driver was a woman. A father wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.” (Had a father gotten off this easily, someone would have claimed that it was because he was a man. Just a guess, here . . .)

The Tossers of Bones: “I’m not sure I’d believe every sob story from every person who is about to get a ticket, but at least his heart was in the right place, so good for him.” (Yes. Good for him.)

The Jaundiced Eyes: “I wish someone would buy me stuff.” (That would be nice, wouldn’t it?)

The Yawners: “Slow news day? How about some real news? This article is a waste of space.” (More so than your comment?)

Cynics: “He did this for the publicity.” (How could he have predicted that this story would make news?)

The Tangential Ranters: “One good deed doesn’t offset other cops’ actions of rape, assault, murder, corruption, murdering their spouse and family members, filing false reports, lying, etc.” (Okaaaay. See also: Leapers of Logic.)

And on, and on.

But while the naysayers, in their many subspecies, continue to nay, a child is now safer than before.

Do you think it is a good thing that Officer Ben Hall helped this child?

I think it is a good thing.