The New Halloween 101

For a child raised in the suburbs, Halloween is more than just about maximizing the high fructose corn syrup in your system, it's about learning valuable lessons.  Not overt lessons, mind you--just subtle steps in the American acculturation process.  Here’s a sampling of what one can learn from All Hallows Eve:

Lesson #1:  First impressions count. Most Halloween door answerers aren't stupid.  Based on anticipated door traffic, they've budgeted the appropriate amount of candy to last from the afternoon toddlers to the annoying teenagers that show up at the end of the evening dressed up as…teenagers. While their bowl of treats is carefully meted out, there's some play in distribution.  A dimpled princess or extra charming cowboy might just earn a second Mars bar. The best way to earn bonus Halloween riches?  Be punctual, have a cute costume, and really sell, "trick or treat."  This is the same advice I would give someone applying for job:  be on time, dress appropriately, and speak clearly. Think of Halloween as building good job interview skills.

Lesson #2:  The American Dream is alive and well.   By the time you’re in third grade you’ve learned the most important Halloween truth: the more houses you hit, the more candy you get.  Office politics may dictate promotions, but on October 31st  hard work is measurably and tangibly rewarded.    And while your local government may redistribute the wealth (Dad steals your gummi bears), the trick-or-treater retains the lion’s share of the profits. You may see witches and goblins; I see future capitalists.

Lesson #3:  Halloween teaches kids about real estate.  As a child, your real estate knowledge consists of playing Monopoly and owning doll houses. But at Halloween you start to make some pretty important evaluations about the real estate market and the value of different houses.  Kids learn quickly  that the house with no lights on equals no candy. Consider it the first lesson in curb appeal.   Secondly, as you progress into your trick-or-treating career, you learn which houses are traditionally more rewarding than others.  You know who on the block gives out full size Snickers and who doles out sugarless gum.  The savvy Halloween veteran may even leave his neighborhood to find a “better” neighborhood where they give out “a better class” of  candy.  Location, location, location.

Some teachers decry Halloween for the toll it takes on learning.  The day after is not a great teaching day with many students recovering from sugar highs or just plain tired.  While teachers may feel that students aren’t learning their lessons on November 1st, they can rest assured there was plenty learned the night before.

Control

You might remember my earlier claim that the disposable battery industry is secretly running this county.  There may be macroeconomic or geo-political explanations for the rise in gas prices, but I’m sure the Cooper-top Lobby is  behind it.  If they and their pink percussion-playing friend have their way, gas will become so expensive, drivers will opt for battery operated vehicles playing right into their fiendish hand. Another conspiracy they’ve shielded from the public--an unsavory partnership with electronic manufacturers to litter our home with a remote controls--siphoning our wallets; two double A’s at a time. 

But truth be told, I’m a willing participant in this ruse. I would estimate that I easily have 15 to 20 remote controls in my home right now and I need and love each and every one of them. They range from the obvious and fairly useful: DVD player and garage door opener, to the less necessary: ceiling fan, to the absolutely baffling: baby mobile remote. But all of my remotes, the television has, is, and will always be king.

It almost brings tears to my eyes when I think about how the technology of the remote has helped me watch sports more efficiently.   Back in the 70’s, I would sit next to the warmth of our giant faux wood encased RCA flipping back and forth trying watch two playoff games.  In between plays I would violently throw the knob in an effort to quickly traverse the desert of static between the network oases. I always wondered why there were channels of static between the networks and why the volume of the static channels was exponentially louder than the normal channels.   Now, armed with my trusty remote guiding satellites across the sky, I have the ability to watch every football game on any given Sunday.  I can stop and start the action, look up statistics, and never watch a commercial.  Sure, I’ll admit it: the remote is a great outlet for my Napoleon complex.

My house has a typical gender driven remote policy; my wife has court appointed remote visitation rights when I’m not at home.  It’s sexist and very unfair but I know genetics are to blame. Along with the inability to ask for directions, the need to hold the remote is encoded in the male DNA. To deny our desire to watch five programs at once to to deny the very thing that makes us men. Is it a coincidence that the Y-chromosome is named for a letter that looks like an old TV antenna? I think not.

Who Wants My Junk?

Just like “April showers bring May flowers,”  Spring cleaning spawns garage sale season. When I was growing up, my neighborhood held a well coordinated, highly populated annual garage sale event. People would come from far and wide to take part in the Academy Hills HOA Garage Sale.   By 10 o’clock, there was not a parking space to be had.   Yes, my neighborhood peddled some of the best garbage in the greater Syracuse area. Based on my storied garage sale history, here are some tips if you are thinking of holding or attending a garage sale:

If you pick something up, buy it. Never forget that you are sifting through someone’s junk.  At the end of day, what you are looking at  will probably be in the trash. The chances of you finding something you actually need or want are very, very slim.  Should you find something that actually has utility in your life and you pick it up, you might as well go the rest of the way.  If your brain sends the impulse to your hand to hold up a Ronco  Inside-The-Egg Scrambler, then go ahead and indulge yourself.  It’s probably worth a dollar scramble an egg while it’s still inside its shell, even just once.

If someone makes you an offer, take it.  OK, you’ve been holding onto a Commodore 64 computer for sentimental reasons.  You’ve amortized what you paid for it in 1984 and you know exactly what it’s worth.   And now, some cheapskate from across town wants to give you less than fair market value. Take a deep breath, take his money, and part with your useless computer. Don’t worry about “getting taken.” If someone wants to haggle over a computer from the Reagan era, they probably have the mental fortitude to drive back to your house tonight and pick it up off the curb when it’s free.

Think Mall Thoughts.  If you’re looking to move your merchandise, try to provide your customers with a shopping  experience they’re familiar with--the local mall.  Try wearing one those annoying headsets like they do at The Gap.    Make a call to the back to see if you have something in stock.  Next to your cash drawer, sell CDs of music inspired by your store.  Trust me, it’s no dumber than buying music at Pottery Barn.

Sure eBay and craigslist have taken their toll on our American garage sale tradition. But as long as we have warm Spring days and drivers with  a penchant for following cardboard signs, I think garage sales will be with us for quite some time.

Don't You Want to Protect Your Investment?

If you’ve bought an appliance you’ve no doubt experienced the disconnect of having a salesman stress the reliability and durability of a particular brand name only to turn around and ask you to buy a manufacturer’s warranty. One minute the washing machine can easily handle sixteen pairs of jeans; the next you need to be careful because there’s a lot of moving parts that may break down over time.   As you stand at the cash register the salesman pushing the warranty wants you  to think about what could possibly go wrong with your new, expensive purchase. It’s a chance to experience buyer’s regret before actually leaving the store.

Recently, my wife and I bit the bullet on an extended service plan for our washer and dryer.  What suckered me in was the salesman telling us  it included annual preventive maintenance.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I pictured an Indy pit crew tightening bolts and putting high octane gasoline in the washer’s engine.  Instead every May a kid from Sears comes out to clean our lint trap and tell us that we need to buy more expensive fabric softener. 

I am pleased to announce we took advantage of  our extended warranty this past month.  In the midst of a rinse cycle, the washer just shut down.  After shifting into lockdown mode, the washer simply flashed a red digital L2 on the display.  Water pooled in the bottom of the washer, and we had to salvage our clothes from the watery mess. The repair hotline politely notified us that an L2 could be repaired from 1 - 5 pm on Thursday.   After careful examination, the repairman informed us the washer was not draining properly. We knew this already, but because we had the warranty  we didn’t have to pay for  this information. I felt sorry for the poor saps that had to  pay someone to tell them their washers were not draining.

After dispensing with the technical jargon, the repairman vacuumed out the drain line and produced  baby socks. Lots of baby socks.  Not as skilled as adult socks at escaping from the dryer, these baby socks took their shot in the washer.  Like Andy in The Shawshank Redemption, they thought they would tunnel their way to freedom.  With the laundry cycle back in rhythm and Ryan’s sock collection rightfully restored, a sense of normalcy returned to the home.  This quickly turned to panic as I realized my son was able to break the washer without even trying.  What kind of warranty we will need when he starts using the computer?

Healthy Care, Aquarium High Chair 3000-A-Gogo

Looking at my four month old son, I note how the world has changed since I was his age.  The Internet allows for anything at the push of the button.  Cars now can tell you where to go. Yes, the world is seemingly a more complex and technological place.  Scientific innovation continues  to make every item in our every day life more effective. If I had to name one devise that symbolizes this evolution, I would have to say, “the high chair.”

A high chair, as the name implies, is for providing height.  As I began assembling Ryan’s new high chair, it was obvious that along with providing elevation, this piece of furniture had many other fine features. There were rattles and toys and colorful buttons to be pushed.   Clearly NASA has had a hand in the design of this chair.  I should have known that this was more than an ordinary chair by just looking at the box.  It didn’t say just “high chair.”  This was the Healthy Care, Aquarium High Chair 3000-A-Gogo. Bluetooth enabled and featuring the OnStar Satellite System, Ryan can even wirelessly connect his laptop even though he doesn’t have the motor skills to get Cheerios inside  his mouth.

Of course I’m exaggerating, but Ryan’s high chair does play six different songs and boasts automated bubbles and fish. To provide historical perspective, I examined a photo of my first birthday.  Sitting in a high chair, enjoying my clown cake, I seem perfectly content. My high chair was nothing more than a simple metal frame  with a padded seat and shiny eating surface.  I wonder,  “What were the consequences of not having a series of entertaining, distracting  sights and sounds?”  Oh, I don’t know...maybe more efficient eating.  I’m sure Ryan will have no problem focusing on his strained carrots while baby Cirque Du Soleil is whirling around him.

And of course...it requires batteries.  Sometime after I was born, Congress passed legislation so that  everything involving babies must require batteries. (No doubt legislation sponsored by the Coppertop Lobby.) Seriously, why does the lawn mower popcorn maker that brought me so much toddler joy now require lights and music? I sense a Fisher Price/Engerizer conspiracy.  If  Pampers gets tied up in this cartel, all babies will have diapers with turn signals.  Sure you’re laughing now, but who ever thought sneakers needed wheels?