My daughter came home with an art project this week where she was asked to finish this sentence: “If a magic fish could grant me a wish, I would wish for …”
Her response?
“Halloween to never end, so I could get lots of candy and get to stay in my costume longer. And go around my neighborhood.”
After I stopped sobbing into my afternoon coffee, I thought about how she approached her wish. Halloween is her favorite holiday, so I’m not surprised that her one wish would be for it to last forever. But why does she want it to last forever?
She started, as any kid would, with the obvious: candy and costumes, end of wish.
But then she seemed to realize it wasn’t quite right. Something was missing. So she added what really makes Halloween complete for her: going around her neighborhood. Experiencing the joy of moving freely through familiar streets, seeing friendly faces and feeling like part of something bigger than yourself.
In Oak Park, Halloween shines a light on what is true all year round — we are a walkable and welcoming community. Urban planners have captured this in a concept called the “Trick or Treat Test.” It’s a simple way to measure good urban design. Can kids safely and comfortably trick-or-treat from house to house? Do neighbors know one another, and are there sidewalks, porches, and streetlights that make walking feel inviting?
In other words, does your neighborhood encourage connection?
Halloween here is magical not just because of cute kids in costumes but because of the design that makes it all possible — connected streets, walkable blocks, inviting front porches and neighbors who actually open their doors. My daughter may not be an urban planning nerd like her mom, but she understands this concept instinctively. It’s why she’s comfortable running up and down the block ringing doorbells to see if friends can come out and play. It’s why she and her friends can take over a cul-de-sac on their bikes on a Sunday afternoon. It’s why families from neighboring communities flock here every October 31st — to experience what safe, joyful public space feels like.
I gladly hand out hundreds of pieces of candy each year because I know what’s being celebrated isn’t just Halloween; it’s community design that works. It’s streets where people walk and talk. It’s front porches instead of garages that dominate the view. It’s blocks where everyone — especially kids — feel like they belong.
When I asked my daughter if she knew how lucky she was to be growing up in Oak Park, she said simply, “Really lucky.” (Here come those tears again.) Community design shapes community-building. As we face big challenges as a village, from housing affordability to climate resilience, we’d do well to remember that the same principles that make Oak Park great on Halloween — walkability, connection, and safety — make it great the other 364 days a year.