I’m Going To Miss the Dutch Door

5 Nov

I’m going to miss our Dutch door. The ability to swing open half the access point to this house and startle window salesmen, pizza guys, and the occasional fundamentalist (I almost spelled it fundamnmentalist, Dr. Freud) has been a charming feature of this place.
But Halloween has been the night the door really comes into its own. It has provided me was a sort of stage on which to perform my annual Clueless Old Guy act:
“Oh — it’s so wonderful. You children don’t even know me, and you’re bringing me candy.”
“Trick or treat. Trick *or* treat. All right, I’ll have a treat, please.”
“Agh! Don’t you people have anything better to do than to go around terrorizing citizens for candy?”
Of course, you can’t do that with the really little ones. Them, you have to help train:
“Say ‘trick or treat’. Please say ‘trick or treat’. I can’t give you the candy until you say ‘trick or treat’. Help me out here.”
The kids don’t think too much of my act, usually, but the door astonishes them. Some of the smaller ones don’t want to leave. They want to watch the door work. Or they hang back, looking over their shoulders to see what it might do next.
Next year, I’ll be opening a door somewhere else, and wherever it is, it will certainly be some kind of ordinary one-piece sort of a door that won’t astonish anybody.

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