Paradoxical Parental Platitudes

"Just forget what I said and go ask that stranger for candy." What kind of mental monkeyshine is that supposed to be?!? It's trick-or-treat time, which I always find so oddly paradoxical to every other parental adage we've ever heard or said.

Then, after how many lectures about NEVER going somewhere with a stranger, we hang ourselves over the gutter of a street to get someone -- a complete stranger -- to pick us up and take us somewhere in their vehicle. To make matters worse, we don't even wear a seatbelt, that is, if there were any to be worn.

Reminds me of my days selling girl-scout cookies (because that really taught me oh so much about 1. what it means to a girl, and 2. the essence of "scouting").

Growing up I had the kind of luck a kid could really do without; which I couldn't have discovered more quickly than going door to door begging people to buy sweats from me. Even though I'll eagerly tear through a box of those Thin Mints (a more accurate name would be Thin Mint Chocolate Cocaine-like Cookies), I'm still a wee bit resentful that the company gets little girls to go bang on the doors of strangers so they can reap the profits on their addictive confections.

Most memorable was the guy who answered the door without wearing any pants.

Knowing I was in a most precarious situation, I pretended not to notice and just memorized his face hoping if I escaped I could at least properly identify him. When he bought two boxes of Somoas, asked when they would be in, and let me leave I couldn't believe I made it out of there alive.

Amazed and grateful he let me leave, my 9 year old brain couldn't help but wonder if I was so ugly a pedophile wouldn't want to bother with me, or if just freaking kids out was all he needed to float his boat.

When I got home and told my parents they immediately had the police (you know, "tell the police, they are good guys and want you to be safe") so I could tell them about the guy who bought cookies with no pants .

Well, Officer Boysenberry or Quesenberry (or some sort of berry-flavor of an officer) listened to my story and then responded by saying I'd probably made the whole thing up. That continued to be the police department's line although later that day they acknowledged the guy was a known sex offender, who was forced to move to our town just to get psychotherapy -- which, incidentally, he wasn't attending. Nonetheless, I was still a big fat liar who made the no-pants story up.

In that instance, I learned that you should talk to strangers, preferably to ask them for money, if not candy. Should the stranger come to the door without any pants -- don't bother telling an adult because they won't believe you, but just make you feel like a moron who couldn't have been more imaginative trying to get attention.

Armed not with much from the adult world, at least I remembered which doors to skip when I came back through the neighborhood to beg the same people to give me sweats on Halloween... and, of course, to bring my 120lb Saint Bernard.

Tricking and Treating from a Safe Place,
the Freak Magnet & Super Secure MQ