Just here for the cues? I understand. They're here.

I am, at the moment, waiting for the door to knock, again. Best expression of ingratitude thus far:

“They don’t have my favorite,” said a girl who’s too old for this, as she grabs a Milky Way.

“What’s that?” her friend says.

“Three Musketeers.” And they flounce away.

You want to shout YOU’RE WELCOME but no, then you’ll be that Cranky Old Man who’s mocked later srlsly it’s HALLOWEEN they get to be kids c’mon.

Some cute little kids who had politeness drilled into them by caring parents who know that it’s not in their nature to say the rote words, but it matters anyway. Then there are the parents who say “take two” as an admonishment, not suspecting that we might be doling them out singly so all can be served.

Then two adorable kids - witch, Viking - who were so grateful I gave them extras, albeit peanut-butter chews. Those get a bad rap, partly because they have the consistency of the putty you use on a pipe to stop a leak, but the flavor has a detectible relationship with peanut butter.

I’d guess 82% of the stuff is unconsumed.

Ran down to the Haunted Triangle to grab some chili. The party is winding down, I sense; years past, when everyone had younger kids, it was a much bigger affair. Lots of food, an inflated Haunted House, spooky music, lights strung across the street. None of that this time, possibly because the neighborhood gaffer (really; he does lights for movies and commercials) might be out of town on a shoot. A few years ago he was working on “Red Dawn” and there weren’t any lights then, either.

Also don’t hear the Haunted Neighbor, who hooked up a speaker and made muffled screams and threats.

Also missing: daughter. At a friend’s party, because there’s no school tomorrow, by some odd turn of events. Sleepover. First Halloween where we didn’t spread out the loot and perform Treat Triage.

I will not end the evening slumped by the fire watching the Spooky Ooky Episode of Rolie Polie Olie by myself through brimming eyes. There were two of them, each unnerving in its own way to the very young. Although we learned that Spooky Ooky was not bad, just want to go home, as Zowie put it, there was something manipulative about his sudden tears, especially compared to his previous outburst when he demanded the Super-Remote.

No, I will not watch that and remember. Won’t watch the Charlie Brown special because I am a grown man and it just doesn’t hold together. One of those things you love as a kid, don’t watch for decades, show to your own kid, and be dismayed in their lack of interest. Really, my daughter didn’t get it. So it’s Halloween but the dog is flying on his doghouse in War. Then people are giving rocks to Charlie Brown. Why? Who keeps rocks on hand in case a kid shows up whose lack of self-worth they can detect through the sheet he wears over his head?

LATER

The last group of kids came at 9:30, a group of ten who got out of a car and went back in the car. All home-made costumes - nothing elaborate, but there was skill and pride. Grateful and happy.

The party at the Haunted Triangle picked up; I got some chili, chatted a bit, but the old days of standing around while daughter played in the shadows or we used it as Home Base after the neighborhood prowl - nevermore. If I go down there now the menfolk will be about six beers ahead of me.

The day will end as it always does: go outside after midnight, when it’s no longer Halloween. It’s November. But that space between Halloween revelries and the first morning of November is the only space where real Halloween seems to exist. It is an empty place, uncertain, and all the manifestations of Halloween look useless and spent. We let Christmas decorations burn for a while afterwards, blaring light into the dark, dragging the Festive Feeling into the bleak tomb of January, but everyone around here wants to get the Halloween stuff down fast. Halloween is orange and fun!

November is dead serious. There’s not a leaf on a tree that’ll make it to the end.

Ah, but for now? Such beauty. The colder it gets, the more the world burns.

Now, the Cues! BOILERPLATE: As I say every week: if you're just joining the Listen project, it includes a selection of music cues gleaned from old radio shows In this case, "The Couple Next Door," the wonderful 1958-1960 radio show written by, and starring, Peg Lynch. It's library music the producers dropped in to get them in and out of scenes. It's the background soundtrack for mid-century life.

There was something else I won't bother you with, but it made me smile as well. Wife is telling Husband why the Daughter could not have been responsible for the flowerpot toppling over, because she was upstairs playing with a friend. She used the name of a Real Little Girl, who must have been delighted to hear it on the radio. A wink sent nationwide to one kid.

That's it for this week! Column up here; scroll down to the COLUMNS pane.