I'm not sure if I would let my daughter go trick-or-treating today in the traditional sense.  She'll soon be 30, and I remember a time when it was a joy to see her in costume and excited.  At the very same time, I worried about her safety.

People say the tales of needles and razor blades and poisoned candy are urban legends.  It was more than 50 years ago, and I was a little boy, and there was a story on the television news about a little boy who died after eating his candy.  The story was on TV for many nights, and I can't recall if the case was ever solved.  His crying mother told a reporter she usually threw away most of the candy he collected.  Night after night his smiling picture appeared on TV, but it was all a memory of a boy who no longer lived.

We've had a serious drug problem in this country since before there was a country.  Modern media only heightened concern over the last 50 to 70 years.  Now, we're faced with a heinous threat from something called fentanyl, which can look like sweet and sour candy.  If my daughter was a little girl this Halloween, we wouldn't be going door-to-door.  We would be visiting the trunk events sponsored by local churches.

My daughter wouldn't have been happy with my call.  She would've thought she was missing out on a much bigger haul (and she rarely ate most of the candy she received).  In a few days, she would've forgotten Halloween and would've been dreaming of Christmas.

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