No one told me that the skeletons are a thing. They are the Halloween decoration du jour this year in my neighborhood. As my dog, Coco, was leading me on our walk, I noticed a plethora of often gigantic, bony phonies: Hanging from window frames, coming out of the ground, some assuming dance poses or some standing watch over the squirrels and rabbits in the front yard.
They are creepy. I never was a fan of the skinless ghouls and I discovered that that’s still the case. What is the point of seeing our structural innards? Unless you like to sing the Dem Bones song. All together now shall we: The head bone’s connected to the neck bone, the neck bone’s connected to the shoulder bone, the shoulder bone's connected to back bone…
I am definitely in the friendly-Halloween-decorations camp. Nothing garish or scary. I will put out a carefully curated crowd of different pumpkins. Boring? Sure.
But no wet pants at my house.
There are still some houses without skeletons, but they are in the minority. As it is, I have a ten-footer witch down the street who cackles about taking my soul, her hands reaching out. I don’t like to turn my back to her.
Thank goodness Coco isn’t frightened of her. She trots right past without batting an eye.
I’m Rosie Klepper and that’s my perspective.
