Perhaps you’ve seen articles lamenting lower consumer spending on Halloween this year. The apparent pullback has been viewed by some economists as an indicator of a weak Christmas retail season which, in today’s America, translates into a bad economic sign.

On the other hand, perhaps the pullback means something different. Could it be . . . (would it be too much to hope?) . . . that the public has become disenchanted with shelling out money for an artificially induced “holiday” that relies on overpriced, tacky accessories to glorify the macabre as a form of joy?

Simple Halloween activities once were intended for children (no one above sixth grade in my childhood would have gone trick-or-treating). Now, these have morphed into a week-long celebration of bad taste and dark beliefs aimed at all ages and promoted by institutions that stand to make a lot of money from our gullibility. 

The transformation of a childhood amusement into a commercial steamroller has infiltrated our European neighbors too, I’m sorry to say. Based on what I have observed, the “creep” of American-style Halloween means “out” with shop windows decorated with a few ceramic pumpkins and “in” with shelves of cheaply manufactured orange and black spook-gear. I used to give Europeans credit for having better sense.

To me, the worst part of Halloween’s growing commercial presence in Europe has to do with the threat it may pose to celebrations of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day. These liturgical holidays on November 1st and 2nd still have cultural significance across Europe, even in countries defined by statistics as “secularized,” i.e. largely not observant of religion.

Paying respect to one’s ancestors transcends such a label. Hence, people of all ages still gather up flowers and candles to decorate their relatives’ graves in Europe’s neatly trimmed cemeteries. Particularly in strongly Catholic areas like southern Germany, Poland, Lithuania, and Hungary, one is nearly blinded by the sea of flowers destined for this observation.

As you likely know, Halloween (Hallowed Eve) grew out of these traditions. Much legend and lore swirled around the nights when people went en masse to trim up the graves and, for that matter, enjoy a picnic (yes in a cemetery) or offer toasts to the memory of loved ones. Of course such traditions of joviality at tombs do pre-date the Christian calendar. For that matter, the Christian liturgical calendar probably will survive the onslaught of China-made witches’ hats and gummy spiders.

Beyond that, what disturbs me is how Halloween in America has taken such an ugly turn. Forget the blow-up ghouls in your neighbor’s yard. Let’s talk about the proliferation of places that offer an experience of virtual terror for whoever is willing to buy a ticket. The “Halloween house”—once a treat to delight children with goofy features—now boasts portrayals of escalating violence from images of dismemberment and decapitation with chain saws to misogynist violence and psychological torture. This phenomenon strikes me as especially odd in an era that claims to be so “sensitive” and so “woke.”

On the other hand, perhaps these establishments perfectly exemplify the gruesome side of today’s public life: our rapture at violent films and video games, our tolerance of crudeness in imagery and wording on T-shirts, and the ever more threatening tone of our political discourse.

So maybe the population has had enough of it. I know I have. My goal is to spend nothing beyond buying a bargain pumpkin at Lidl. We will carve that pumpkin if we can find that little dojigger with the serrated edge. The grandkids will dress up as a knight and a princess-warrior (which transforms nicely into St. Patrick and Joan of Arc for the upcoming Children’s Parade of Saints at church).

And yes, they will knock on a few pre-arranged neighbor’s doors and squeal, “Trick or Treat.” But that’s it.

If more people do as we are doing, then spending on ludicrous Halloween accoutrements indeed will fall. That may give people more disposable income at Christmastime. Plus, we might again be able to walk one day into a Home Depot in October without picking our way through 10-foot high inflated monsters, which would be a relief.