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Life Support: Trick mars treats Dad laments theft of child's magic Monday, November 13, 2000
My 7-year-old, Maura, is a sweet, very sensitive little girl, and she shows her excitement through a flurry of activity and preparation whenever a major event approaches.
This Halloween, when I arrived home at 4 o'clock, Maura had her costume on and was bouncing around the house full of nervous energy, impatiently awaiting the beginning of trick or treat. Her sister, Olivia, at 2 years old, is bewildered by the holiday and was visibly offended when she saw me plunge a knife into her pumpkin on Saturday. But Maura had Olivia in her costume chanting "trick or treat" shortly after my arrival.
This was a huge night for Maura: no homework, dressing up, romping around the neighborhood, getting candy for no good reason. We set off promptly at 6, the appointed time in our town. Maura and her friend Melanie led the way while I transported Olivia via wagon. All went smoothly for the first hour. The neighbors were generous, and the candy was good.
Maura and Melanie commandeered the wagon as main transport for their candy bags, and I put Olivia in the stroller I had brought along. Being the well-prepared father, I had plastic shopping bags in my pocket in case of emergency. Maura used one of these as a ferry for the goodies, while the wagon served as storage for the main bag.
While taking a short cut between houses to get to another house, we left the wagon sitting in a driveway. Upon our return, Maura discovered that her plastic shopping bag was gone. A quick search of the area confirmed that it was gone for good.
To understand the significance of this loss, consider life from the perspective of a 7-year-old. Particularly the perspective of a girl like Maura. Life is simple. Life is good. Very little happens that is bad, terrible or tragic. In her mind, a night of magic was turned into a tragedy of immeasurable proportions.
The evening ended with me pushing Olivia in her stroller while pulling Maura in the wagon. Not an easy endeavor in a hilly neighborhood. Maura was crying; I was furious. Furious that some punk had destroyed what was supposed to be a perfect night. Furious that someone had caused harm to my little girl right under my nose.
I understand that many people might hear this story and figure that the loss of some candy, particularly when she still had plenty with her, is not really that big a deal. The little losses, however, can sometimes linger with us for a long, long time.
I remember when I was in Pony League, I was a marginal player; I had good days and I had some pretty bad days too. At one point during the season, one of my coaches remarked on how well I had performed in practice recently. Performance in practice translates into playing time, and I expected to be rewarded. The next game, I never came off the bench. Then I retired to the back yard to suffer my frustration alone.
Mom came back to offer me some words of wisdom, support and sympathy. What sticks with me to this day is her statement that if not getting in this game was to be my greatest disappointment in life, life won't be too bad. Wise and true words, to be sure, but not the words I needed to hear at that particular moment.
This came to mind while I spoke to Maura. How does one make a 7-year-old girl feel better after this little tragedy? The best I could do was to sympathize, to let her know that I, too, was very upset by what had happened. I told her that there were many good experiences during the night, and that she should try to think about them.
The neighbors were generous with the kids. Maura still had a fairly large bag of candy to live on for the next week. Two of her friends that we ran into after discovering the loss, Kimberly and Moriah, gave her some of their candy, at their parents' prompting. Kimberly, without any prompting from her dad, hugged Maura. My wife comforted Maura as best she could. After returning home, I retrieved from my car a gift for Maura from one of my co-workers -- a Cabbage Patch-like stuffed doll.
The punk that stole Maura's candy most likely gave no thought to the impact his action might have on his young victim. Most likely, he was showing off for his buddies; demonstrating his daring in claiming someone else's candy.
I hope he feels guilty, though I doubt he will. What I hope most of all is that Maura can see that there are so many more good people in the world than jerks. I hope she can remember Kimberly's hug, her parents' efforts to make up for her loss, the new doll and the generosity of her neighbors.
Tom Matvey is an attorney living in Economy Borough.
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