Chocolate Pumpkins and Long Gas Lines

By Gordon Hopkins We are now into one of the most wonderful, glorious times of year. The first few days of November are a joy like no other.No, not because of the start of autumn. Not because the greens of the leaves begin the shift to golden yellows and vivid reds and earthy browns before beginning their descent. Not because of the crisp, cool winds that banish the last of the Nebraska's oppressive, sultry summer atmosphere. Not because of the anticipation of the holidays and days spent with family and friends. It's not even the pungent, sickly-sweet smell of overripe pumpkins, slowly rotting on countless front stoops.No, what makes those few days immediately after Halloween so fabulous is that's when all the Halloween candy goes on sale.Hey, with the cost of everything going up these days, a little discount chocolate goes a long way to improving my mood.While I am on the subject, am I the only one who thinks pumpkin-shaped peanut butter cups don't taste the same as the cup-shaped cups? Assuming it is the same chocolate and same peanut butter, how can that be? Is this strictly a psychological phenomenon or is there a reason changing the shape changes the taste? Or maybe it is just me.Anyway, it isn't just the candy. All manner of Halloween-themes stuff goes on sale. Its a great time to stock up on Halloween decorations for next year. When else can you buy a plastic human skull for two bucks?These days, I look for any chance to get something cheap. Regardless of your political proclivities, I doubt I'm making a controversial statement when I suggest stuff costs too much these days.Inflation: the least welcome comeback from the 1970s since the “Brady Bunch.”I lived through the 1970s, when this country suffered some of the highest rates of inflation this country had ever endured. Of course, I was just a kid during those days. Though it had a huge impact on my life, I didn't understand it at the time. That word, inflation, was just one of those words that got bandied about by adults after watching the news and meant no more to me than all those other words I heard all the time but didn't understand, like ABSCAM and Disco and Watergate and Agnew and energy crisis.So, when my parents wouldn't buy me every Micronaut (seriously, who remembers these?) in every color, I assumed it was because parents were big meanies who enjoyed seeing their children in anguish, not because they had to choose between brightly-colored, Japanese-manufactured, molded plastic and dinner.Kids don't really get how money works. There is a reason there are no eight-year-old economists.Now, as a grown up trying to figure out how I am going to pay to fix my air conditioner, I understand what a whiny little brat I was and if I had a time-machine, I would use it to go back and smack me in the face. I know there are a lot of other folks who clearly need a good smack as well, but my eight-year-old self is definitely near the top of the list.

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