“What kind of Halloween candy are you buying?” Greg asked me.

“None.”

“What? We’re not giving out candy this year?”

“Nope.”

Greg is disappointed, but you know what? For many years he’s spent Halloween night watching television, and the responsibility of answering the door has been all mine. He’s not missing out on anything. (Except eating Halloween candy, which neither of should be doing anyway.)

Not that giving out candy is such a strenuous job around here. There are no children living in our cul-de-sac anymore, and the last few years we’ve had fewer than a dozen trick-or-treaters.

Last year I turned off the porch light, but I don’t think anyone came out. We were on a Covid upswing at the time.

This year we’re on a downswing, but in our county as many as 2000 people a day are still coming down with Covid, about the same as last year. However, many people have gone back to doing “normal” things.

Greg thinks I’m being overcautious because I insist that we stay at home by ourselves.

I think I’m being totally reasonable. The other day I found out that one of our long-time acquaintances, a woman who works at our local supermarket, lost her husband to Covid six weeks ago. They both got sick, but he didn’t survive.

Covid is still killing people. More than 736,000 dead in the USA alone. I don’t take that lightly. Of that number, less than 0.1% have been children. An insignificant number? Not to the 700 families who are mourning.

If I still had kids, I’d buy them lots of candy and let them wear their costumes at home and play silly games and take lots of pictures. You parents do what you think is best, but I’m wishing you a quiet Halloween.