I live in one of the Halloween hot spots in my New England town.   A newer suburban development, we are one of the biggest neighborhoods with sidewalks, which means you can safely get around fast, and pull in the greatest candy haul for time spent. I remember planning out my route when I was trick-or-treating with a similar production-minded goal.   Here, we hand out candy to close to 200 visitors every Halloween.  

My favorite costume this year was "goat man."  My husband and I had met "goat man" at a basketball clinic we did for one of our elementary schools earlier in the month.  As we called out names for attendance, we asked all the kids, if they wanted to share what they were going to be for Halloween.  This not-too-tall fourth grader with the cute haircut and freckles announced "goat man."  My husband and I couldn't quite pick it up the first time he said it and asked him to repeat it.  One of the other kids called out, "a satyr,"  which confounded my husband even more.  This started a discussion about myths and Mr. Tumnus.  My husband was not a Narnia fan—his loss—and continued to insist he had no experience with such a  "goat man" creature.  

He has now.  After keeping our enthusiastic dog downstairs for most of the doorbell ringing, my husband came up at the very end, and what perfect timing.  As I went to the door and caught a glimpse of this young fellow, I knew in an instant who it was.  "John," I called, "come'ere.  Goat man!" 

Goat man had perfect little horns sticking out of his cute little moppy hairdo, a TOTALLY BARE CHEST AND ARMS even though it was forty-something degrees out there, and black furry pant/leggings that were bulky up top to look like haunches and fit over his black shoes to give the illusion of hooves.  I'm surprised a parent let him out without a shirt, but what cujones, what investment into his costume, into being the best goat man he could be.  I loved it.  Here's hoping you didn't spend the next few days in bed with some bad sniffles, goat man, but if you did, it was worth it.  

Talking to my physical therapist a couple days later, as he stretched my foot back and forth, I complained about the older kids who show up without a costume.  Taking a break from just hanging in our neighborhood, they come to the door with no costume, no loot sack, and just stick their hand out.  I don't like this.  We're making the effort to decorate our house, buy treats, and answer our door all night.  Come up with something for a costume, even if it's just a football jersey.  Discovering kindred Halloween spirits in each other, my PT proceeded to describe his house decorating which he doesn't do until the day of Halloween.  Ditto for me.  He puts a scarecrow out front, and then dresses as one himself, and holds the candy bucket in his lap.  When the trick-ore-treaters come up for candy, well of course, to the children's great surprise and shock, the candy-holding scarecrow comes to life.  I explained how I always have something motion-activated.  The last few years it's been a creepy creature face that I put on the wall in the front door alcove so when kids come to the door and reach for the doorbell, the creature booms out in a creaky confessor voice, "It's a little scary out here," followed by a few more observations, finishing up with a scream that makes his jaw drop open and his bloodshot eyes light up.  A lot of the night, I answer the children's answering shrieks as the doorbell never gets rung! 

"I'm surprised," I said, "that we can put up this same creature face every year and the kids are surprised every year.  It's got to be a lot of the same kids.  I would think they would remember." 

My PT looked at me and said, "Have you ever watched a scary movie?" 

"Yes, " I said.

"And would the scary parts get you every time you watched it?"

"Yes." I realized.  And there, in that illuminating moment, was the true wonder of Halloween.  In a world where year, everything needs to be bigger, faster, smarter, newer to get our attention, Halloween is what it is, year after year after year, and it's fabulous.  Halloween not real magic?  I think it is.