“That’s what Halloween’s all about!”

An oldie but goodie from the MBMurrayWrites archives! This piece was published in The Greenwich (Conn.) Time, October 30, 1994

Later, carefully considering where on the steps Bert should rest, Tyler chose the bottom one so everyone could see him better.

“Dad will be so scared!” he announced after the pumpkin was properly situated. “That’s what Halloween’s all about!” The day it turned up missing, he wasn’t so sure.

Realizing our pumpkin thief was probably nothing more than the victim of teenage peer-pressure, I decided this wasn’t the occasion to initiate Tyler to the reality of a world where some people don’t think about others when they act.

“That wasn’t such a nice thing to do, taking our pumpkin, was it?” I asked him.

“No. We need one now,” insisted Tyler. “We need to take Nick’s pumpkin.” He craned his neck to see if, indeed, our next-door neighbor had a jack-o-lantern worth claiming for our own.

“Take Nick’s?!” I cried. “Why ever would we do that?”

“Because someone took ours,” Tyler replied simply, and with a certain logic.

“But…we’re pretty sad that someone took the pumpkin we worked so hard to pick out and carve, right?” I began tentatively. “Wouldn’t Nick be sad if we took his?”

Tyler looked at me blankly. What’s the point, I imagined him thinking, if this is the way things are done. Well, sure, I answered him in my own mind, that may be the way things are done sometimes. But it doesn’t mean we all have to do things this way.

To a four-year-old, however, diversion is much more effective in diffusing a crisis than philosophical debate. Frank the Barber waited for Tyler and Dad, so the boys had to move on. A green lollipop for good behavior at Frank’s and the mysterious appearance of another pumpkin (even more Bert-like than the first) were enough to put the Case of the Pilfered Pumpkin to rest in Tyler’s mind. But not in Mom’s.

Children can teach us much about how our actions affect those who observe—or suffer—them. Once in the habit of slamming doors when I was angry, I only needed to see my son imitate me once to see how disruptive it was to the rest of the family. Seeing Tyler mirror what I thought was an insignificant action, I realized it had deeper implications: I had taught him that such behavior was acceptable.

I believe the same holds true for our neighbors. Whether it’s carelessly driving up on someone’s lawn, or trading harsh words with a friend, or just taking a little jack-o-lantern, we tell those who watch that “this is the way things are done.” We know, of course, that it doesn’t end there. The next time, they will be driving, or speaking, or stealing, and our lawn, or feelings, or pumpkin may suffer.

Swiping a pumpkin for a scavenger hunt won’t end the world; it didn’t even ruin a four-year-old’s morning. Let’s be sure, however, that such a minor inconsideration is not accepted as just “the ways things are done.”

I’d like to think that, with a little thoughtfulness on all our parts, pumpkins like Nick’s will still be spared 10 or 12 years from now. Perhaps, after years of observing a bit more consideration amongst us, the adolescent Tyler might even forfeit the points he could have earned for “scavenging” a neighbor’s scarecrow or pumpkin.

I can imagine him walking past the house with a jack-o-lantern just waiting to be scarfed up; maybe he’d even think back on how hard we worked and how our neighbors had said what a great job we’d done. Then, in that distant year, he’d say again: “That’s what Halloween’s all about!”