Sunday, November 1, 2015

Self Control of Halloween


Dear Blog Reader.           
I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. We are turning to the end of October. The remnants of hurricane Patty will soaked us last Tuesday and Wednesday. Thankfully the shingles were secure on the roof and we were okay. I must admit that the rain was appreciated here in Sharritt Land. I have spent much of the last three months toting a hose around the garden in an effort to keep the greens growing. I am glad to report that the arugula, mizuna, chard, and lettuce all look great; the spinach not so much. I believe that I was using some old seed and spinach seed does not age well.

While this contrary farmer is planting clover and rye cover crop to take advantage of some warm weather and some rain in spite of the shortening day length, the rest of American Agriculture is busy wiping the slate clean. They are nearly done now. The big famers have not only pushed their combines across the acres like giant erasers; they have also taken advantage of the dry weather to erase all of the corn stalks and bean stubble from the scene. It is an amazing transformation. I am not here to comment on the wisdom of exposing your soil to the wind, snow and rain for the next six months. Some say that the winter landscape can benefit from some patches of green cover crop. It does my heart good to think that the oxygen generation will continue for those rare sunny November days and get a bit of a head start next March, and I like seeing a patch of winter rye and alsike clover getting established and knowing that there will be green emerging when the snow melts.
Who knows? With El Nino brewing away out in the Pacific we may have some photosynthesis in February. I hope not. I vividly remember three years ago (that’s my motto “Keeping forgetfulness at bay since 1962”) when we had the very warm winter and many of you removed the flannel sheets in March. Suddenly, the apple trees, sensing the portent of warmer weather, started to bloom only to be nipped in the bud by a three day freeze in early April. Thankfully, all will be revealed in the fullness of time.

I love October. I love the way that it makes you wait until the very last day to enjoy its major celebration; no early days off for good behavior like September’s Labor Day, no unseemly impulse control issues like January, celebrating on the first day and just a week after the last big celebration. Sure, December, May, and November make you wait for most of the month. But October is an unyielding task master making you wait until the very end.
It is trying to teach us valuable lessons. Natural consequences, that best teacher of all, shows us that good things come to those who wait. How many first week of October Jack-o-lanterns have melted by mid-month on the porch, their orange gapped tooth grins turning to black grimaces of horror? “I’m melting.” How many bite sized Snickers bars have been gobbled down long before the goblins and ghosts arrive to be disappointed by smarties and candy corn on the 31st. It is sobering to realize that your lack of impulse control will cause so much sorrow as you wake up from your coma sitting on the couch, surrounding by snicker’s wrappers, a thin line of brown drool tracing down your chin. Better luck next year sparky.

But October must become very frustrated as a teacher. While it is unyielding in desire to make us wait and to develop patience to become more temperate in our lives, we often rebel. Thousands of pumpkins are sold the last week before Halloween as replacements for their sad saggy brethren being hauled off to the compost heap. I have been eating Halloween candy at work since mid-September. I have learned to wipe my chin thoroughly after waking up on the couch. Very few adults are showing any kind of impulse control while choosing costumes. Parts that have blossomed with age and calories and have been tastefully disguised in vertical stripes and layers are suddenly being displayed loud and proud. It is all very frightening.
And tonight we shall release the hounds in the annual blood lust of trick or treat. Millions of pounds of candy will be redistributed this evening. Garbage bags and pillow cases will be filled. We used to like to send the kids out early, have them bring back their candy and augment our reserves. We all know it is too much. How can 15 lbs of Snickers bars be good to you? As I typed that last sentence, my pancreas started crying in the corner. When I was younger, it would have broken into a Scottish brogue screaming, “I can’t do it Captain. No way to create that much insulin. It can’t be done.” My brain would have screamed back, “Dammit Scotty. You have to. These are Snickers bars and I am going to eat them all tonight. No way is my sister going to get her hands on them.”

We know it is obscene. We know it is too much. We dread the thought of the little sugared up monsters coming home and having to be wrestled into bed. It isn’t their fault. We created them.
As with every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Thank God Newton was so smart. I have come across a new phenomenon to combat the largess of the season; actually, 2 phenomena. I developed one and the other I choose to argue against.

I love the candy tax. I rationalize it that it taught our children valuable life lessons. Nothing in life is free; now you know the pain that I feel with my pay check; it is the way of the world, you are going to have to get used to it. The plan is simple; go trick or treating, pour all of your candy out on the kitchen table, divide it into groups of ten, I get to choose one piece from each group. Yes, I get to choose. No pile of smarties for me. I get all Snickers. And there you have the candy tax. Sure, the kids scream it’s not fair. I agree. They are paying a 10% tax. The people who bought the candy paid as much as 25% on the money they earned to buy the candy, 6% on the sales tax, 3 to 5% on the property tax so that they would have a door for you to knock on and scream “Trick or Treat”, and 12% for the social security tax so that they will be able to continue to finance your candy stealing in their old age. You’re absolutely correct 10% candy tax isn’t fair. It isn’t but it is the way of life. Get used to it.
As usual my suggestions for life’s little conundrums are a bit harsh. There are people who believe that children should spared the cruel realities of adulthood. You can understand. It is a compelling argument. Taxes are a scary concept for a 3 year old dressed up a Freddy Krueger. Yet caring, sensitive, parents know that their children should be separated from as much candy as possible for the sake of their poor little pancrei. Necessity is the mother of invention. I have a co-worker who, faced with this situation, went searching for a solution. As with all of modernity’s solutions, it was to be found on the internet. It is a book. This book sensitizes guileless children that the witches are in desperate need of candy but that they will exchange a toy with the child for their candy on Halloween night.

As Goebbels once said “when one lies, one should lie big, and stick to it. They keep up their lies, even at the risk of looking ridiculous.” To that end the authors have created an “elf on the shelf” type doll that the parents can use to repeat the lie for 30 days. Thirty days of operant training will probably have your kids drooling just like Pavlov’s pooches as they hand over their hard won loot for a rubber ball and some jacks. It shouldn’t take more than a session or two on the couch to get your children over the lies you told them growing up. Maybe you can get a two for one discount for Elf on a Shelf and Witch on a Shelf.

There you have it. All of you Frostians at your fork in the road. Which path to choose in your parenting wood? Should I lie or bully them into behavior that they should choose? That is often the problem with quick and easy parenting advice. It relies on coercion rather than recognizing that parenting is a long road of constant urging, encouragement and correction. And just like October, you are going to be pretty frustrated with the results.

Take care

Roger.

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