The Trunk is a Serious Cultural Loss

by Jay Britton Fisher (author of Demons and Dark Essences: Luctus)
(originally written on 31 October 2023)

We didn't have any trick-or-treaters this year at our house.  Not one.  It’s a sign: America is and has been experiencing a serious loss of culture.

Some would say that the U.S. doesn't have its own culture.  They would be wrong; among other things, we've got cowboys, we've got baseball and (American) football, we've got hamburgers and hot dogs and apple pie, we’ve got Broadway, we've got cinema with Hollywood and film festivals like Sundance.  But another very American social and cultural phenomenon has been severely weakened in recent years: the beloved trick-or-treating of Halloween night.

I loved trick-or-treating as a child and as a teenager.  I went out on the town, at night, with a group of friends, dressed up in some fantastic way, amid many other youngsters roaming the streets.  We celebrated a darkness that had thrill without any true danger.  We were kings and queens that night—all of us, in many little groups of royalty that all shared a dominion that spread as far as we were willing to walk.  We went to neighborhoods we knew and neighborhoods we didn't know.  Regular citizens at every home bestowed gifts upon us--and they were almost always the sort of gifts that kids wanted!  We were actors playing parts with our whole town as the stage and every neighbor a spectator.  We became mischievous rogues without needing to enact any mischief.  We had a magic word—three words, really—that worked wonders with everyone we met.  We were the heroes of the night—and often simultaneously the villains, without having to do anything villainous.  We were confederates, also, passing along the valuable intelligence of which houses were giving out coveted full-size candy bars.  All children ruled while trick-or-treating.  In a world where adults governed and a time of life when adulthood seemed infinitely far away, this night was ours.

We anticipated the event for weeks.  And at the end, what a reward we had!  We returned to one of our homes to revel in our bounty.  We sifted through our individual hoards, we traded if we wanted to, we complained about the candy we didn’t like—most likely eating it anyway—secure in the knowledge that we had so much more of the candy we did like.  We rejoiced in the houses that were excellently decorated, and we laughed about several misadventures or surprises along the way.  We bonded as friends and as families.

I always enjoyed being in costume, whether my face was painted like a shark or whether I wore a lot of green with colored bands to become a ninja turtle.  My most memorable experience was from a year when I neglected to prepare a costume before my friends arrived to pick me up.  In a hurry, I separated the two halves of an extra globe my mother had on hand, I cut a hole for my neck and a slit to see through, and I put it around my head.  It was fun to get comments from people, like the “Do you think you’re the world?” from an older girl from school.  It was also pretty funny when we realized that a small vision slit a couple of inches in front of my eyes afforded me very little peripheral vision; watching a friend with a globe on his head as he walks into a bush was evidently quite entertaining!  By the time I took it off, I realized just how muggy it was inside, but even though I’d been wearing it for maybe a couple of hours, I was never bothered by it.  I’d simply been having too much fun.

This cultural phenomenon spawned a new art form: pumpkin carving.  Early jack-o-lanterns evolved into elaborate displays that demonstrated real skill and creativity.  Think of it—artistic works in the medium of light shining through the sculpted flesh of a gourd!  And we love it.  Some houses have one, and some houses have many.  Sometimes a person’s greatest effort of the holiday went into their pumpkin art, which was to be enjoyed and celebrated in an exhibition lasting only one exclusive night!

There were many of us on the streets when I was young, roaming, socializing, and exulting in the unique one-night-per-year atmosphere, and we all loved it.  So why, three decades later (give or take), do I see no children on my street?  At most, I think I saw some cars pass by with trick-or-treaters in them.  Our decorations were simple this year.  Granted, there aren’t as many young children that live in my neighborhood, but numerically, zero is a sharp drop from any other number.  Even as I drove an older daughter to a friend’s house, during peak trick-or-treating time, I saw relatively few groups out and about, even in the busier neighborhoods.  Why?  Why is no one around to see our decorations and our carved pumpkins?  And what in the world am I going to do with all of the chocolate I bought and couldn’t give away?

One might blame COVID-19, but we’ve recovered from that as much as we’ve needed or wanted to.  It’s not a factor any more and doesn’t need to have a lasting impact on Halloween.

Perhaps the real enemy is a weak substitute tradition that, for some reason, Americans have adopted in place of trick-or-treating.  I would think the name “trunk-or-treating” was clever if the practice weren’t so vexatious and frustrating.  I am not sure why this came about, but it seems to have sprung from parents who somehow missed the point of the classic trick-or-treating tradition.  What is a “trunk-or-treat”?  Parents converge on a parking lot with their cars in a row, trunks open, and children make a loop around them in the space of a couple of minutes, quickly amassing a stash of candy.  Then, because the event is inherently underwhelming, the kids keep looping around, visiting the same trunks over and over until there is no candy left to give.  And then it’s over.  It happens in only a few hundred square feet and only a few minutes.  It’s easy—although no one should suggest that something easy is thus worthwhile.

Is trunk-or-treating a worthy substitute for trick-or-treating?  It doesn’t provide the same social bonding experience.  It doesn’t magically turn children into royalty; the event is supervised by a host of adults, and there is no hint of independent action from the kids.  It doesn’t give children a chance to burn a lot of calories before invariably ingesting many more.  It doesn’t have the same artistic value; does any car display rival the decorations of a house?  How often do you see an intricately cut jack-o-lantern in someone’s trunk?

I would suggest that children may find value in a trunk-or-treat if they don’t know better.  It is easy to be myopically excited about merely getting candy.  But I would feel some real regret if my children didn’t know better from having experienced real trick-or-treating.  And I do feel bad for the kids that don’t.

It's not that I don’t appreciate the intent of people who support these events with a desire to make them better; a well-decorated car is not without value.  Children do still get to wear costumes and briefly be on display.  But they simply do not enjoy, at a trunk-or-treat, anything approaching the whole experience I knew and looked forward to every year.

I don’t mean to attack a straw man—after all, they certainly are innocent and valuable contributors 😉 to the cause of Halloween—but it seems that as parents bring their children to trunk-or-treat events, they are suggesting that they just want their kids to get a bunch of candy and get it over with.  I know that’s a bit unfair, but what else is the point of the trunk-or-treat?  And is there much merit in kids getting a bunch of candy without meaning?

Some parents are concerned about safety.  Part of this concern is based in myth; in searching for news about children being hurt on Halloween, I find numerous reports that drugs and needles just aren’t showing up in kids’ candy.  By contrast, there is indeed a higher rate of vehicular accidents, including not only injury but deaths.  I imagine it would be expected, statistically, given the increase in pedestrian traffic; unfortunately not everyone is more careful and less active overall in their vehicles on this night when, by tradition, children are on sidewalks and streets in great numbers.  Is the answer to replace the enjoyable “sugar” of the trick-or-treating tradition with the emptier saccharin of trunk-or-treating?

No!  That saccharin will never be adequate!

And if we’re not trying to completely replace trick-or-treating with trunk-or-treating, then why are we doing the latter at all?  The only effect it can have for some children is to weaken a classic and delightful American tradition, and for other children to replace that tradition altogether with one that is drastically and woefully inferior.

Participating adults are pleading on social media for people to visit their houses, but trick-or-treating is not dead.  It doesn’t have to go the way of Saturday morning cartoons.  My younger kids were still able to go out with their mother tonight to make a trek through local streets and visit decorated houses.  I expect that we’ll keep doing this for years to come.  But though I see similar quality in decorations and costumes, I lament the greatly reduced quantity.

If you’re worried about your children’s safety, talk to them about the dangers of cars and streets.  Put something bright on their costumes.  Walk with the youngest, and celebrate their glee and innocence.  (My seven-year-old reportedly said, “Happy Trick or Treat” at every house, and my wife was quick to prevent an older brother from correcting him.)  But don’t rob the children of trick-or-treating.

Let them be kings and queens of the night.  Let them form bands of allies in search of simple treasures.  Let them journey and relish uncommon independence.

Let them trick-or-treat, and leave the trunk in the driveway.