For the innocent, Halloween is witches ‘n pumpkins, ghosts ‘n goblins, black cats and tricks or treats. For the humorless, it’s a time of evil … a celebration of the occult culminated by a Devil’s Night. That’s the same crowd who would tell a kid there is no Santa Claus … never realizing his true identity.

Charlie Brown believes that “The Great Pumpkin” will rise from the pumpkin patch and fly through the air, bringing presents to all good little boys and girls. Of course, Chuck is also the one who always falls for Lucy’s football trick and lands on his back when she pulls it away. He may have his holidays a little mixed up but, all things considered, I think he captures the right spirit.

For me, Halloween is the gateway holiday. It heralds the start of the most wonderful time of year, where Thanksgiving is the ‘top of the stretch’ and Christmas is the finish line. Substitute Hanukkah for Christmas where my Jewish friends are concerned, and toss a handful of lesser holidays into the blender to whip up a hefty helping of political correctness for the rest. I simply don’t celebrate everything … but, unlike those who seem to be missing the bone in their head that says “Other people are entitled to have different beliefs than you,” I don’t feel offended by anyone expressing those beliefs. I purposely left out New Years because that’s a holiday geared mostly toward grownups, and I’ve been trying to avoid that condition for years!

Kids bring holidays to life. When our crew was home, Vigi somehow always managed to make a special day into an entire season … even birthdays. So from Halloween on, we had seasons within seasons! While I still enjoy turning a pumpkin into a jack-o’-lantern, I’m afraid my costume donning days came to a screeching, grinding halt with the Gorilla suit. Without going into eye-glazing detail, suffice to say that it was a hit at the party, a riot in traffic and ‘Jungle Jane’ was a tad bulkier than I thought as I attempted to carry her through the door. Your imagination can do the rest.

When I was an actual kid, I dressed up as everything from a cowboy to a clown … a monster to my own sister. Mom’s shoes even fit me for a few years and a ‘babushka’ covered my short hair instead of a wig. I completely abused grapefruits! I did the usual door-to-door thing but, somehow, could never bring myself to say “Trick or treat!” It was always, “Anything for Halloween?” I think one old curmudgeon on the block was a Socialist, because he used to take candy out of my bag and give it to the next kid. Mr. Kreitzer notwithstanding, Halloween was a blast!

Then something in our society changed. The wholesomeness disappeared. It was the old story of a few spoiling it for everyone else … probably part of the “Santa is dead” crowd. One day there were rumors of razor blades in apples; then they weren’t rumors anymore. By the time my kids were ready for trick or treating, sickos were actually poisoning candy … parents started buying treats for their own kids and keeping them home. It eliminated both liability for the adults and danger for the children, all in one fell swoop. Some parents staged private parties but it just wasn’t the same. So much for one of the great joys of kidhood.

I’m not exactly sure what they do for Halloween anymore. We live at the top of a very long, very steep, wooded driveway … the perfect setting for hidden ghosts and goblins. But in seven years we’ve never had a kid haunt our doorstep. I have an electronic doorbell that I program with spooky sounds and still put out the pumpkin. I refuse to give it up, completely. My memories are too good to waste and Halloween will always mean the beginning of all those magical holidays.

Besides, no matter what the changes, in my heart I’ll always know my Dad really was the strongest guy on the block, Superman really can fly and Santa Claus is not only alive and well … but he is me!

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

I’ve been told that when I retire I need to ‘reinvent’ myself. The recommendation would seem to imply that, somehow, I was invented in the first place, like a lightbulb or a washing machine. Actually, there are several life-changing situations for which I was given the same advice. At least, that’s what they say I should do.

Without intending to offend the ever-elusive theysayers in the crowd, let me state in no uncertain terms that, to the best of my knowledge, I was not invented … nor did I suddenly appear in a puff of smoke or under a cabbage leaf in my Father’s vegetable garden. As intriguing as those explanations may be, the fact is I simply evolved … the product of two terrific parents on one hand and the corrupt influence of a generally dysfunctional society on the other. No more, no less.

Furthermore, that evolution has taken more than half a century and I fail to see how any meaningful adjustments are going to be made overnight. Because the engine is chugging a little going up a hill, it doesn’t make sense to me to drive the whole thing off a cliff and get a new car! Maybe it makes more sense to just pull over to the side of the road and fix the engine … especially if you’re comfortable with the butt marks you’ve worn into the seat.

The problem is that somewhere between the cliff and “Hand me the 1/2 inch wrench,” guys who have defined themselves by their occupation most of their lives often find themselves with no place to be. They either start feeling like the proverbial man without a country, or they go back to some kind of job where they work as hard as ever but without getting paid for it. This is usually referred to as volunteering. But what happened to retirement? I don’t know if women run into something similar but there are a lot of older ladies out there not collecting wages for a lifetime of expertise! If that’s reinventing yourself, you can keep it!

My Dad was one of the guys who drove his car off the cliff and walked home. His company pastured him out at 65 and he managed to stay completely inactive until he was 80. I remember trying to urge him to “get out and do something,” only to be met with a tirade about how hard he worked all of his life and how he had “earned this”… as he dozed off again in his recliner behind his Newark Star Ledger. He may have been the poster boy for what not to do … but for the first time in my life, I understand what he must have been feeling.

The fact is, I believe that given the option, most people would rather continue working [and earning wages] than retire under the circumstances most of us finally learn to accept. There’s a vast wealth of experience and great talent going to waste because of the myopic vision of the generation running things today. Oh sure, we might not be as fast as we once were and maybe most of us can only multi-task to the tune of three or four things at once, instead of ten … but the quality difference outweighs any quantity difference by immeasurable amounts.

Looking back, I have come to realize that the battles were more exciting than winning the war … the journey more fun than arriving at my destination. Time and energy, or what I’ve dubbed ‘tenergy’, has become too limited to begin new battles or undertake new journeys of any consequence. I don’t have the definitive answer yet, but it’s coming along … and I know it has more to do with repair than reinvention.

I suppose, in some ways, I’m still waiting for my ship to come in … although she’s moving more slowly now with all those barnacles on her bottom. I only hope that when she does, I’m not either stumbling around out at the airport or busy being keelhauled, instead of greeting her with warm, welcoming arms from the dock!

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

In the movie “On Golden Pond”, a confused, aging Henry Fonda character looks at a picture of himself taken several years before and asks, “Who the hell is that?” Seeing some white-bearded stranger peering out at me from the mirror every morning raises the same question.

It was only yesterday that a more familiar, dark-whiskered fellow in there used to say, “Not bad, not bad” … and the day before when a clean-shaven, shirtless youth simply smiled back and bulged a bicep at me. If it’s hard to accept such feedback from the mirror, it’s even harder watching the ones you love as they begin to miss a step or two, here and there.

Oddly enough, I don’t really have a problem watching Vigi grow older. Maybe that’s because it has been happening slowly and so gracefully … and because her looks still have a long way to travel before they catch up with her years. Not long after we met I remember being introduced to a mature aunt, whom she strongly resembled, and thinking to myself “I can live with that someday!”

Where I run into trouble is with our Lab, Jake Brown. Maybe it’s a reflection of the problem I’m having with the man in the mirror. I’ve known him since he was a thirteen day old pup, with a chocolate coat, glacier blue eyes and an appetite that propelled him from one litter mate’s bowl to another after his own was empty. Since he joined the family at seven weeks, we’ve been Super-Glued at the hip … or, more accurately, at the ankles. In those days I was working at home and he slept between my feet, under the recording console. It’s still one of his favorite spots.

Until a couple of years ago Jake could run like the wind but, more than swift, he was smooth. He flowed like a thoroughbred race horse, as his legs reached out effortlessly to pull in the next piece of turf. It seemed as though his feet never actually touched the ground and I’ve seen him clear a three foot obstacle with no sign of hesitation or broken stride.

My pal is almost ten now and his hind legs move in sort of a bunny hop. His joints are getting stiff, his coat is losing its luster and his burnt-toast brown eyes are no longer the eyes of his youth, although it’s still easy to see through to his soul. He probably wonders why his legs won’t carry him anymore … why he can’t run as fast or jump as high as he used to, and why he gets tired so easily from trying. If there’s anything to that seven dog years equals one human year theory, then Jake and I are about the same age. Sometimes the similarities can be scary. He even makes the same sounds I do when he sits down or stands up.

Enter Freckles. As if designed for contrast, our recently rescued Reagle (Jack Russell/Beagle mix) is all pup, all energy, all the time! She has a simple rule for coexistence: What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is … mine. In spite of her insistence upon enforcing this rule, she and Jake get along famously but sometimes her youthful exuberance is a bit over-the-top for us both. I guess we’ve reached a point in life where cozy shirts and comfortable shoes, or tummy tickles and good bones, are more important than conquering the world or chasing squirrels. Besides, I’ve already had more than my quota of squirrels for a single lifetime.

Observing the changes in Jake, it has occurred to me on more than one occasion that his accelerated aging process is nothing more than a compression of my own. Some mornings, when I awaken and see him sleeping peacefully at the foot of my bed, I find myself studying the deep furrows in his brow, the furry wrinkles in his muzzle and growing field of gray under his chin. It’s sad to see, knowing the juices of Spring that surged through his veins only yesterday. The thing is, who am I feeling sad for … him or me?

Whatever the basis for lament, it’s all too clear why the lady in my life sometimes refers to me as “The Big Dog.” I’m also thankful, for Jake’s sake, that he knows nothing of mirrors and, despite our similarities, I am grateful for one of our most important differences besides where I prefer to put my nose … opposable thumbs!

As for Vigi, ever since I met her mature aunt, I’ve been telling her that someday she’s going to be a beautiful old lady. I still tell her that but I think it has become more form than fact … because, at least for me, Vigi will always be young and Jake a sassy, blue-eyed pup.

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.