Column by Matthew Warner

“Let’s face it, lining the walkway to one’s front door with headless creatures, bones and blood is not the way to make a child feel welcome.”

— Jenelle Watson

As I watch Christmas decorations go up, I’m reminded of a fascinating drama that played out last year in my local newspaper, The News Leader of Staunton, Virginia. In Jenelle Watson’s Oct. 22, 2006 column, “Holiday gore just not for me,” she complained that Halloween displays were too scary for her daughters, aged 3 and 4. For example, she bemoaned the “evil-looking devil creature” at the Wal-Mart entrance.

In particular, she singled out a Halloween motif in her own neighborhood, where she’d lived for less than a year. A particular house initially delighted her children by going all out for the holidays - singlehandedly emitting more light (assumably, Christmas lights) than everyone in her tiny hometown could have produced in cooperation. But now her kids were afraid of her neighbor’s “macabre decoration.” She gave anecdotes about how her girls cried and begged not to go near it and how they vowed not to trick-or-treat there “no matter how much candy the owners have.” She concluded her column with a list of “rules” for Halloween decorating based on her polling of preschool children. Good: pumpkins (without scary teeth) and gourds. Bad: spiders, ghosts, and realistic monsters.

A backlash ensued. One letter said, “I just have to say go back to your tiny hometown.” So Watson entrenched her position with a long Oct. 29 column containing decorating tips. She profiled women with the same opinions as her, people such as Helen Murphy, who “isn’t overly fond of Halloween. You won’t find ghosts or skeletons at her house. Nor will you be greeted by animated witches, spooky music or cauldrons of foggy goo.” No, Ms. Murphy featured wholesome decorations like mums stacked on straw bales, happy-looking scarecrows, and of course, pumpkins and gourds. In fact, pumpkins and gourds were “the hottest look this season,” according to magazines like Country Living, especially when decorated with Spanish moss, urns, silk leaves, and berries. “But as for witches and ghosts and devils, no, I won’t celebrate those things,” Ms. Murphy said. This second column heavily pushed the fall harvest look - in essence, decorations more appropriate for Thanksgiving than Halloween. (God, how boring.)

But when the initial column debuted, I could only scratch my head. Why would a regular newspaper writer devote her space to criticizing a neighbor she didn’t name? I was also frustrated by her lack of specifics. What exactly was scary?

Answers came in subsequent letters to the editor. The neighbors in question were Mike and Debbie Sullivan, who defended their display as being “meant for Halloween fun for those who choose to enjoy it.” They urged Jenelle Watson to “take off your Halloween mask” and reveal that her husband is the News Leader’s president and publisher, Roger Watson. Because Mrs. Watson has greater access to the press, they said, she shouldn’t abuse her privilege to level attacks at others - a point I agree with. Interestingly, they reported that Watson and her son, now aged 7, trick-or-treated at their house the previous year. “For this Halloween, maybe we should give Ms. Watson some much-needed credibility instead of a candy treat.”

A physical description of the offensive display finally came on Halloween, in a letter from Robert Anderson. He said the Sullivans’ display was a “malignant metamorphosis” from the innocuous decorations of years past. Now, human heads, body parts, and a bloody corpse emerged from the roof. (He placed every instance of “corpse” in quotations, protecting his other words from so vile a term.) A mannequin on the Sullivans’ porch held a chainsaw. He was careful to point out that this “hideous creature” was an homage to the movie “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” in which a character dismembered victims with a chainsaw and wore human skin as a mask. He didn’t mention whether this mannequin actually wore a depiction of such a mask. (It probably didn’t.) An online reader defended the display as being just one of many similar ones on that street - which only frustrated me further because they didn’t provide an address. With that kind of titillation, of course I wanted to see it for myself.

Removing the rancor, I believe this debate boiled down to one central issue. Watson stated it in the first sentence of her initial column: “I thought trick-or-treating was for kids.” Anderson agreed when he said, “Trick or treating is for children.” Let’s overlook for the moment that trick-or-treating most likely originated in traditions that were for adults. For what it’s worth, I also agree that modern trick-or-treating is for kids. But the question is, kids of what age group? Jenelle Watson was pissed because her 3- and 4-year-old girls were scared by the horror-themed decorations. But let’s face it: Small children are easily frightened by anything and everything. Shadows, noises, being away from their parents, their own dreams, you name it.

It’s revealing that the columnist’s 7-year-old son didn’t seem afraid of the decorations. He was reportedly only worried about their potential effect on his sisters. In a couple years, I bet those girls won’t be fazed by them, either. In fact, given the proper guidance, they don’t have to be scared of them today. Take my 4-year-old nephew, for instance. Once while visiting my house, he asked for a toy to play with in the bath tub. All we owned was a rubber ducky colored black, with a green bill and green Xs for eyes. With a tremulous voice, he asked what was wrong with it. His parents’ answer was genius: “Nothing’s wrong with him, honey. He’s just wearing a Halloween costume.” At that, the boy relaxed. But this kind of conversation probably won’t happen in the Watson household. The mother admitted in column number one that gory decorations are “just one more reason I really don’t like Halloween.”

Even then, all hope is not lost for the Watson girls. This is a free country, and there’s nothing that says neurotic children must trick-or-treat at frightening houses. This is why I really take exception to the mother’s second “rule” for Halloween decorations, which states, “If you must display ghosts and other creatures of the night, make sure they’re not too realistic.”

Let me put it another way. How would this little Bible Belt town react if I wrote a column bitching about the Christian symbols that people erect in their yards this time of year? Perhaps I’m offended by nativity scenes and what they represent, and I’m worried about how they could jeopardize my children’s sense of reality. The same for blow-up Santas. While I’m at it, I’m especially offended by the asininity and repetitiveness of Christmas carols (and I’m not kidding about that). How would people like it if I started suggesting decorating “rules” for them to follow on their own property?

So please, people, take an object lesson from a small town’s minor melodrama. Unless you’re a zoning board or homeowner’s association, think twice before you presume to tell your neighbors how to do anything. If your 3-year-old is the Mafia boss behind the scenes, think three times—once for each year.

And as for your pumpkins and gourds, bring them on down here to ole Virginny. Some of us can use the target practice.

Matthew Warner is the author of Eyes Everywhere, Death Sentences: Tales of Punishment & Revenge and The Organ Donor. He frequently gives presentations on horror literature and writing to public schools and libraries. He lives in Staunton with illustrator and web designer Deena Warner.

Filed under: 5-October 2007 Issue