Trick of Treat

 "Let know one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or cast spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the LORD..." (Deuteronomy 18:10-12)

Ah, the days when parents brought home the box - the box that contained your long awaited Halloween costume. You know the one made out of pure plastic (containing lead and twenty other carcinogens). You know the one that reduces your peripheral vision to...well...zero. Horse blinders for kids who are out walking at night going door to door asking for candy from complete strangers who often invite them into their old Victorian homes where deceased grandma has been rotting away upstairs in a locked bedroom. Man...did we have fun. Memories. 

I remember vividly one tragic Halloween when my dear Uncle Roger took this little country bumpkin to the big city to cash in. Forget the little plastic pumpkin...we're taking the pillow case. No apples, please, unless they are drenched in caramel and nuts wrapped in plastic. No cross contamination.  Popcorn balls. Definitely. Full size candy bars. Repeat customer. Bazooka Gum. No thanks. 

My booty bag was almost full. One more stop would complete it. "Trick or Treat." I thought about just shortening it to "Treat" because I was a nice kid and really didn't know what kind of trick I would do for them if they asked. I had a small deck of cards lodged in my pants just in case. "Take a card...any card." 

And then it happened. That darn Spider Man mask...I couldn't breath. I couldn't see. The pressure of other kids coming up behind me. I said my gracious, "Thank you," for my miniature Mr. Goodbar (my favorite). Turned and walked straight ahead. Totally disoriented. Focused on the latest steal. Missed the steps. Walked straight off the front porch like a suicide candy bomber right into their bushes. My stash flying all over the place. I'm certain it was divine punishment for my gluttonous spirit. A lot of lawn jewels for the owners of that house the next morning. 

My Uncle Roger quickly rushed over to me. Laughing. Trying not to laugh. Laughing. Sort of that humorous, "Are you okay" while internally saying, "That was awesome." Like watching someone slipping on ice or running from killer bees. You can't stop watching. It's funny but its not. And on top of that, the entire city observing my fall from grace. Tis the season. 

I am certain that the trauma of that evening subconsciously stayed with me. My fear of porch steps. Going out at night with a mask. But thank God that I still can eat a Mr. Goodbar without flashback nightmares. 

It did send me to the dark side of things. I became a lover of Bewitched and the Addams Family. I also confess that I repeatedly watch all the Harry Potter movies. 

On a more serious note...speaking of notes...when I moved to Alpena, Michigan, I received a very welcoming note that said this. "We just wanted to send you a note saying that upon your arrival we began praying for you. Praying down a curse upon you, upon your family, upon your church. May the Almighty One destroy all the works of your hands." Signed: The Coven." 

Satan is real. Demons are real. Those who follow and serve him are real. It is a dangerous area where many have literally lost their lives. Remember that our Adversary seeks to steal, to kill, and to destroy. Unfortunately, I have had the displeasure of being exposed to those individuals and to residences occupied by such. No thank you. 

So while I'm out with my oversized My Pillow pillowcase, dressed like a Jewish Rabbi, "treating" with my grandchildren this weekend (or not), I am going to be very aware that something sinister is also at work. 

Porch steps without railings. 

Children with masks and...

People who hand out fruit.