A Halloween shock

 

Note the parked cars and traffic

Real Halloween, as distinct from last night’s neighborhood festival, was predictably crowded. The best estimates I’ve heard are that we routinely get about 1400 kids, almost all from other neighborhoods, because local kids did their trick-or-treating last night. These kids arrive by the carload, and our streets are lined with parked cars. General routine is for parents to wait at the sidewalk, while the kids come up for their treats. Little ones however are carried and often look bewildered. Costumes range from a black T-shirt to an elaborate (and huge) dinosaur with ghosts, goblins, brides (one so pretty), skeletons, robots—you name it, many very inventive.

Can you find the baby in the basket?

We sat on the porch while Jordan was the main dispenser of candy—she really enjoys it and has a great greeting for each child. The children, in turn, are polite and say thank you, except for one kid who muttered, “More.” Christian had made a pot of tortilla soup, and the plan was everyone was to eat when hungry. I opted to come back to the cottage a little after seven—it was getting chilly—and reheat the leftover vegetable soup I had. But Christian scooped up two of Jordan’s chocolate chip cookies and one brownie for me. No, I didn’t eat it all. The brownie is in a baggie, waiting for tomorrow.

Jordan waiting for the kids

Sophie is a problem on porch party nights. She has an unerring sense of when there’s going to be a party in the house and she, by gosh, is not going to be left out of it. One notable night recently, she snapped at Jordan when she reached for her collar. Tonight, Christian and Jacob both came to get me—one to help me negotiate the stairs and the other to corral Sophie. She knew what was happening. They lured her inside, but she tried to bolt, and Christian was like a football player, dancing to run interference before she escaped. Jacob was reluctant to grab her but did, and we made a not-so-smooth getaway. When Christian walked me back out, she still wanted to go in the house—note she didn’t care where I was. She managed to bolt inside this time, but Jordan brought her back fairly soon. After a few minutes, if you ask her if she wants to go home, she goes to the back door. Now, she’s sleeping peacefully at my feet. Having a spoiled dog is one thing; having one control my behavior to that extent is another, and she’s about to get pulled up short.

Halloween was almost overshadowed on our porch, in the TCU community, and I suspect in the national football community by the sudden announcement this evening of the resignation of Coach Gary Patterson, who has led the football program for twenty-one years, built it to national prominence, been influential on the TCU campus and in campus life in so many other ways, but suffered three bad seasons in a row. To say it’s controversial is an understatement. I am neither a big football fan nor an expert on the politics of football, but I think this will turn out badly for TCU, with a loss of respect and prestige. But maybe not money.

And that’s what I have been hearing over the weekend—winning football teams bring in money and recruit new players. Christian says that’s the way of the world but agrees with me it’s morally wrong. TCU did not fire Patterson; official word is he resigned. But I read somewhere that the AG, a man faceless to me who is named Donati, did not like Patterson’s plans for offseason. They apparently asked him to continue to the end of the season and then take a new role—effectively either a dismissal or demotion. He declined, said it was best for the team if he left now, and met with the players to announce his departure. Good for him. For years, I tired of hearing how financially strapped TCU was, how they would close the press, cut this corner and that, couldn’t afford to have the trees trimmed. This buyout means they owe Patterson and his team a sum so large you can’t even think about it—I only hope it doesn’t come out of funds meant for academic programs.

That’s really more than I know about the matter for sure, so I am, repeat, not qualified to comment. But I do know about loyalty and gratitude, and beyond finances, TCU owes those great debts to Patterson. Somehow, I don’t think they took the high road.