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I wish CNN was there to cover it but they weren’t and they will probably never be.

The Source

I wish CNN was there to cover it but they weren’t and they will probably never be. It was Halloween Eve, two days before the election. I’ll admit that to me Halloween is probably our silliest of holidays. …teaching little kids the art of extortion by having them chant “trick or treat” around the neighborhood. But perhaps it’s the very ridiculousness of the ghoul-infested rite that gives it its charm…at least in Arenzville. For weeks…nay…months...seeems like eons we’d been bombarded with the relentless political ads. Not a resident of Arenzville or anywhere else I suppose was immune to two months of gagging negativity from our televisions, phones, and mail boxes. The media screamed about how “Never before in our history has our nation been so divided! And after this break we’ll show you why!” After another venomous commercial they’d go to a couple of talking heads telling us about the bitter split that has hewn our nation asunder. Yada, yada, yada…. It’s been my custom in Arenzville to leave a teenager on my front porch with a sack of candy while I stir the autumn leaves on a block stroll to the town park where the city fathers set up a Halloween Pit Stop for parents and tiny goblins. They serve copious amounts of hot chocolate, coffee, and this year 14 dozen donuts to whoever happens to stop by. It’s like our town’s Burgoo celebration without the soup and flies. Over the years more and more folks who are long past the age of dressing like a Power Ranger walk down in the cool fall evening to sit around a fire built by the mayor himself and simply chat, eat, drink, and enjoy the parade of tiny spookers. At the risk of overcrowding the town in future years, I’ll disclose that Arenzville is about the most pleasant spot I know to bang on doors for candy. Most houses have their porch lights ablaze in welcome, the traffic is almost non-existent, and this year a local guy even hooked up a hay wagon to haul the little rascals around. You can walk the circumference of the whole town in 30 minutes so there’s no need to load up and switch neighborhoods. Young parents who have only a loose connection with Arenzville tend to bring their ghostly offspring to down because it’s so…well…Mayberry. Okay, CNN could have captured this bit of Americana anywhere, but what struck me….what warmed me on that chilly evening, is that I sat at the fire with people who in no way shared my political leanings. We once had a meeting of the Arenzville Democrats and we fit easily into a lady’s living room…all seven of us. I know I was sipping my coffee right beside those dreaded Republicans. And we laughed. And we smiled. And we told stories of our own childhood Halloweens, and the little Democrat ghosts were given the same amount of cocoa as the little Republican ghouls. On the following morning I took off to Perry to eat lunch with my Dad. The Boondocks, Perry’s only restaurant, is closed on Mondays so the local Methodist ladies always serve a delicious Monday meal. Although Pike County is a traditionally Democratic stronghold, Perry is pure Republican. But I sat across from Walter and Stub with Lance just down the table and Mope somewhere in between and no one talked politics. Other than my Dad I doubt there was another guy at the table with whom I could have swapped ballots one-for-one. But no one was shouting. No one held up a sign. Not a single person even mentioned the election. CNN missed that one, too. I somehow doubt that Arenzville and Perry were unique in their civility. I could have stopped anywhere in between….Chapin, Meredosia, Chambersburg…and I’d have been met with the same respect for each other’s views. I was reminded that this sort of small town graciousness is not simply a charming little oddball remnant of times past, but perhaps a more accurate reflection of the true American temperament. The boy manning my front porch soon appeared over my left shoulder as I sat by the park campfire. “What are you doing here?” I asked. He told me, “You bought too much so I’m walking all over town, stopping kids and passing it out!” Trick or Treat on Wheels, he called it. Had I accidentally hired Mayberry’s Opie to pass out my goodies? No, I suspect that young Wes’s generosity was also typical of the American teenager. Despite what you’ve heard for the past political season and in spite of what we will all no doubt endure in the coming months, take my advice: ignore what you hear about the mood of America and simply walk outside your own front door. Watch a young family enjoying their children. Eat some beef stew with the Methodists. Sip some cocoa with a Republican.