The Fear of the Known and Unknown "There is no hope without fear, and no fear without hope." — Baruch Spinoza, 1675 Halloween in our neighborhood is a spectacle. People decorate their houses and yards for Halloween the way others decorate for the Christmas season. We give out candy to hundreds — hundreds of kids. Literally. They drive in from all over because our neighborhood, and our street in particular, is known to be a great place to go trick-or-treating. There are houses that give out full size candy bars. People stationed on their porches with Jello shots and beer for the adults. And a chainsaw-wielding maniac that chases kids around the street when they let their guard down. Really, the last reason is why most people come here. He even started his own Facebook page (and last night wore a GoPro body cam to get more footage). We watched gleefully from our porch (we've got the best vantage point for watching this go down: Chainsaw Guy lives across the street from us) as he revved his motor and head-faked in the direction of some kids, and they scattered amid a chorus of screams, leaving a trail of spilled candy across the sidewalk and lawn. | | It's become a tradition for us, hosting families of our kids' friends and setting up on the porch for the show. We look forward to it every year. I'm convinced that we could sell tickets for it at some point. But one thing struck me as I watched them: every year, kids of a certain age (as in tweens) will stalk the Chainsaw Guy, following him around and taunting him, daring him to chase them. And yet, they usually panic as he turns suddenly and lets the engine rip, and they scatter in 17 different directions. It made me wonder why we seek out situations that are either potentially harmful or simply distasteful. (continued) | | | |
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