A lovely night I the neighborhood

 

Halloween is a big deal for Christian
and he decorates accordingly

Makes me think of Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood, but it was that kind of evening in Berkeley tonight, even if we did only have a couple of parties of trick-or-treaters. It was the Berkeley Fall Festival, a pre-Halloween event especially for kids in the neighborhood. But more than that, it was for kids with various disabilities, physical and social. It was the night MedStar brings two kids, either on stretchers or in wheelchairs, to trick-or-treat on a specially chosen block—a real thrill for kids who wouldn’t otherwise get the be part of the fun. And for the families, who are included and treated like royalty.

It was also a night for children who might be overwhelmed by the crush and confusion of real Halloween in our neighborhood—the autistic child who is frightened by crowds yet wants to be part of the fun, the child with severe food allergies who must pick carefully from any candy offered, the child who is just plain shy.

Sophie wanted to be part of the fun too

For me, it was also a bit of a nostalgic night. The trick-or-treating was advertised from five to seven, so Jordan, Christian, Jean, and I gathered on the porch. But the Berkeley map sent out ahead of time showed only two other houses on our block that were participating. In the inner neighborhood (we are on the fringe), there were clusters of houses passing out treats. So we got only one family—good friends—while we sat there. But then Christian grilled, and Jordan served dinner on the porch—kofta, tzatziki, hummus, and a green salad. With brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and gingersnap—such a wealth of sweets.

And then, about seven, Jordan’s friends, all people I’m fond of, began to arrive. I got lots of good hugs and saw people I’d missed for a long time. I’m tempted to call them young people, as that’s how I always think of them, but they are now nearing fifty. Not so young but still lively.

Twenty years ago when Jordan and Christian first got together, Jordan and I were in a

Jordan makes such a cute witch!

phase of giving porch parties. They were potluck, generally Mexican themed, and BYOB. And they were happy, warm occasions, part of the fond memories that I carry with me today. Some of the people who came in those days have drifted away—we watched some romances flame and then sputter out and others take hold and burn with a steady flame. But there were many there tonight who had been at those long-ago parties, so it was like a reunion, and it made my heart glad.

Being the old lady in the crowd, I left before eight—too many conversations confused my hearing aids, and I couldn’t hear anyone. Sophie was by then out in the cottage alone, and I used the excuse that she was lonely. The truth is I enjoy those parties a great deal, but the time comes early when I am ready to sneak back to my own quiet place of comfort.

Tomorrow night will be a madhouse if history holds true. Our streets will be packed with cars, our sidewalks crowded with families with young kids. It’s always nice to notice that politeness and good manners prevail—in many cases, as a child takes a treat, a parent says, “Did you say thank you?” It’s reassuring that not everything in this world or this country has gone amuck these days.

And tonight was sort of like a return to kinder, gentler times. I loved it, and I applaud Jordan and Christian for hosting.