Here we are on November 2nd, the most Novembersome of November days. We are far, far away from Christmas and the New Year, and here at the Abbey we are in the thick of High Spending Season, which is mostly a downer. As a critter with a November birthday, I’m obliged to fork out money for the usual batch of renewals, and the end of October also involved full-set tire repairs for both me and the Missus. Then we’ll spend madly for the holidays and holiday travel, and the whole long season will close with a bit of birthday spending on my boo.

The season generally kicks off with overspending on Halloween, for me and the Missus are lifelong Halloween people. When she lived in Grand Rapids her surroundings were a little more urban, so in a good year she’d get 20-25 kids coming by to trick or treat, but at the Abbey we are in a self-contained suburban ecosystem, with no through traffic and a convenient roundabout/cul-de-sacked structure. Most of the folks in the neighborhood are retirees as well, but we’re close enough to the high school and several apartment complexes to be a well-known secret. Two years ago we had a balmy Halloween, so we secured about 300 pieces of candy, 300 glow bracelets, and 300 novelty doodads for the kids and went through about 275 of each–a mighty fine year.

Part of the reason we love Halloween is that it’s a pure holiday, one predicated on an indiscriminate love for one’s fellow critters. Are you one of the five bona fide local kids? You get a greeting and candy and a glow stick and a doodad and good wishes. Are you a high schooler visiting from afar, because there’s no trick-or-treating out in the country where you live? You get a greeting and candy and a glow stick and a doodad and compliments on your costume. Are you the progeny of folks who live in the apartments where most of the middle-income families dwell in our wee town? You get a greeting and candy and a glow stick and a doodad and compliments on your costume. Are you a mom or dad dressed up for fun and making the rounds? You get a greeting and candy and a glow stick and a doodad and compliments on your costume. It’s dead simple and delightful.

And it’s never a one-sided experience, with all the kids in high spirits and ready to be delighted as well. This year felt a little special, in part because we were doing Halloween as husband and wife (a few of our neighbor parents yelled their congratulations from the street), and in part because the kids were feeling the Wrackwell vibe. Early in the evening a burly teen on rollerblades came by and snagged treats for his sister, wistfully swapping a light-up eyeball for a wee stuffed ghost (though I made sure he got the eyeball for himself); later in my shift an adorable six-year-old claimed a wee stuffed bat, and her brother tested the eyeball but claimed a wee stuffed ghost himself. They ran down the driveway, their bat and their ghost instant friends and chatting to one another in high-pitched plush-critter voices.

I went inside to shower for Game Night, and the Missus took up the table for the last 45 minutes. When the night wrapped up (called maybe 10 minutes early, thanks to rain, though we decided to run the show from out of the garage this year), she came up to offer the account of a Ukrainian woman who’d moved into the area after driving her daughter over to the neighborhood on past Halloweens. And the mom recalled the Abbey in particular, for when they moved they found the wee doodad her daughter got from us last year, which happily made the move to their new home with them.

We had a smallish showing, maybe 125 kids, but the vibes were extra-pure this year–maybe even enough to last us for the next 363 days.