To the group of people, in the light-colored car, driving down Crown Avenue about 1 a.m. after Halloween:
We hope you'll long remember your night of malicious mischief -- until you too have a son or daughter.
Then, you'll be able to explain -- much better than we can -- why it's "fun" to destroy the pumpkin that a young kid took such care to carve.
You'll be able to tell your child why it's "funny" that you ran onto someone else's porch, grabbed their pumpkins, and threw them onto the street -- leaving the shattered pieces for those kids to see the next morning.
You remember what it was like to be 5 or 7 or 9 years old, don't you, and to care about something you created? Happy Halloween.