From Candyland to the Campaign Trail

Today is Halloween and if you are a parent, you could be making some big mistakes tonight that impact the future of our country.

Many children see this holiday as a fun day to play dress-up and score lots of candy. I see it for what it really is - a one day dispensation from common sense and good parenting. If you run a tight ship, letting little Johnny be a pirate for a night could reverse 364 days of sound child-rearing.

Let's start with the basic premise of Halloween - pretending to be someone you are not while taking candy from strangers. I'm no Dr. Spock, but that seems like horrible advice. In fact, if you could tell your 5 year old only two things before you sent them out into the world, it would be don't talk to strangers and be yourself.

On a typical Saturday, if you asked your babysitter what you did all day and she said, "I dressed your son up like a toothpaste tube and we hit up all the even addresses on S. Huntington for twizzlers and smarties," you would be horrified. So why is it so cute on Halloween?

Even as kids are pretending to be someone they're not, parents go a step further and make sure their kids look like everyone else. According to ExtremeHalloween.com, 41% of all boys are wearing Capt. Jack Sparrow costumes this year, 49% of all girls are fairies or princesses, and 26% of all babies are Lady Bugs. There is a dearth of leadership in this country, and it's today's parents we need to hold partially responsible for training tomorrow's leaders to be sheep (5th most popular costume for babies coming in at 8%).

And what about trick or treat? What kind of message does it send when children believe it's better to receive than give? If we ever hope to have one million young people serving through AmeriCorps or have politicians with strong values in office, we need to flip the dynamic of Halloween. What we need to do is make Halloween the training ground for future class presidents and the candy route their campaign trail. After all, Halloween is the perfect grassroots, knocking-on-doors community outreach initiative since it falls one week before the election.

That's why when I become a father, there will be no pirate or Superman costumes allowed in my house. My son will be wearing a blue blazer and going as himself. That way, when the nice old ladies ask, "Who are you supposed to be?" he can say, "I'm Seamus* McDevitt and I'm running for kindergarten class president."

And then reaching into his pillowcase of candy, a sack that holds the idealism of a nation, says, "I hope I can count on your support. A vote for me is a vote for America. Happy Halloween." Talk about cute.