Yes, we overprepared. Fortunately candy never lasts long enough for us to worry about expiration dates. Assuming candy even has those.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: each year since 2008 I’ve kept statistics on the number of trick-or-treaters brave enough to approach our suburban Indianapolis doorstep during the Halloween celebration of neighborhood unity and no-strings-attached strangers with candy. I began tracking our numbers partly for future candy inventory purposes and partly out of curiosity, so now it’s a tradition for me. Like many bloggers I’m a stats fiend who thrives on taking head counts, even when we’re expecting discouraging results.

Previous years’ Halloween candy-receiver totals were as follows:

2008: 51
2009: 105
2010: 112
2011: 74
2012: 58
2013: 36
2014: 25
2015: 39
2016: 23
2017: 59
2018: 38
2019: 14
2020: 53
2021: 41
2022: 58

As usual Lowe’s had their Halloween decorations up and spooking hardware buyers in September.

This year’s results during our city’s official trick-or-treating hours of 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.:

First TOTer arrival time: 6:23 p.m.
Final TOTer departure time: 8:01 p.m.
Total number of trick-or-treaters for 2023: 29
Gain/loss from Halloween 2022: -50.0%

Last week the weather held a wonderful citywide summer revival, warm enough for everyone to wear shorts for a few days while frolicking in pretty autumn foliage. It’s like an old joke we Midwesterners tell visitors: “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes.” Conversely, if you love how it feels outside right now, don’t get too attached to it. Tonight was our lowest turnout since the dawn of the pandemic era, but it was understandable. Temperatures had been in the mid-30s all day and some unpleasant wind chill kicked in during the evening hours.

As we’ve been doing annually since 2020, rather than wait for incessant door-knocks at random inopportune moments, Anne and I set up a folding table on our front sidewalk, sat outside, hung out together, and gave away freebies to anyone courageous enough to approach us and endure the elements. Anne had to work late and didn’t join me till 6:50, by which time I’d managed to handle the three (3) whole kids who’d shown up so far. She made sure she was fully wrapped up, but I had to keep adding clothing layers as the sun sank below the horizon and my extremities kept losing sensation. At 6:04 a few snowflakes portended nothing good. An hour later, a weak flurry tried to bully us into surrendering and going outside. I refused to give up so easily. Anne might’ve considered it, but she does like to be supportive, so we stuck it out together.

Fun holiday treat from two weeks ago: pumpkin-flavored donut with spider topping from Taylor’s Bakery.

As always, MCC extends an extra-special salute to those stalwart winners who understood the true meaning of Halloween and weren’t afraid of fresh air. The cosplayers whose raiment we could discern under their jackets registered as follows:

Sonic the Hedgehog
Tails
baby T-Rex
inflatable unicorn, but deflated
Batman
Raphael from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
a pair of Stitches (as in Lilo and)
Jason Voorhees
cheerleader
The Flash

Last weekend Anne once again wore her banana costume to Sunday school, even though no one was asked to wear costumes.

Long stretches passed uneventfully. While I flipped through the new Indianapolis Monthly, Anne doomscrolled the best she could with gloved fingers. We took turns entertaining each other and trying to raise each other’s spirits as we stubbornly stayed outside. If The Kids These Days could do it, we could do it.

At 7:30 the dynamic duo of Batman and Raphael, who’d dropped by earlier, walked by a second time with their adults on their way home. We invited them to come back up for seconds and thirds. We agreed anyone else would likewise be cheerfully offered extras the rest of the night. At 7:46 we had to chuckle and reward the pretty hyper kid in the Flash costume who ran up to us at top speed, totally in character.

Despite the temptation to cut corners and pack it in a few minutes early, the last seven kids in our tally showed up between 7:59 and 8:01, while we were in tear-down mode but still had plenty of candy handy. All seven comprised two packs of teens dressed as themselves, but we stopped fussing about that tradition years ago. Halloween is Halloween, the game is the game, and we did not need to keep all that candy. We didn’t buy it for us.

We’re the Goldens. This is who we are and what we do.