Hallowe'en on a Budget

For years, I have resisted buying decorations for Hallowe'en. I have tried hard to stick to a one jack-o-lantern rule.

I blame my ancestors. Half came from the shtetls of Ukraine and Poland. The other half were just Scottish. (Four generations ago, yes, but it still counts at our kids' school multicultural night.)

Forget a dollar, my forefathers knew the value of a penny. Of a rag. Of spent matches, even.

But there is no excuse for such frugality these days. With a Dollarama on every corner, anyone can adorn their porch with a fake devil or two.

So every year, recession or not, Hallowe'en decorations festoon front yards all over the city.

Except ours.

This year, our next-door neighbors got an inflatable spider for their front yard. Our kids looked on enviously as the good parents plugged in the spider and its googly eyes lit up.

Even I had to admit it was awesome. Definitely would have been a hit in the shtetl.

Our 9-year-old stared at it sullenly for a while, like she just knew that would never be her reality. Then she turned to the neighbor's kids.

“Can you help us decorate?” she said. “Because our yard is kind of lame.”

I tried to tell our daughter that our creaking door and lack of renovations made our house genuinely creepy.

But, no, she wanted fake creepy.

That was it. I had to ignore my instinct to keep my money in my wallet, and I headed out to buy fake spider webs, Monster Mix sprinkles, fake tombstones and a second, totally ostentatious jack-o-lantern.

I came home $40 poorer, and I swear I heard my ancestors rolling in their graves.