Trick or Treat: Graveyard Edition

Gone but not forgotten: A memorial service for the everyday icons we miss.

We gather here today to mourn the dearly departed: not our youth, but the cultural artifacts that defined it.

Paper maps that refused to refold themselves.

Vienetta ice cream that tasted like chocolate-covered classiness.

Shampoo scents that sparked a sexual awakening.

Let’s honor their memory, and how they made life more interesting, more complicated, and sometimes a little more fun.

Hocus, Pocus, and Pictures Out of Focus

Reception immediately following the memorial, featuring Chicken in a Biskit crackers with spray cheese and Clearly Canadian.

Blockbuster

Be kind, rewind, and remember. The Friday night mainstay of VHS and questionable decisions. We wandered its aisles like lost souls, leaving with three rom-coms and a $6 box of Raisinets. Somewhere, a copy of Dirty Dancing still prays for a late fee.

Stretchy Phone Cords

Strangled by Bluetooth progress. They gave us privacy, drama, and something to twirl while sighing with teenage heartbreak. Their spirits still haunt kitchen walls, whispering, “No, you hang up first.”

Jell-O Pudding Pops

Vanished without a trace, leaving behind sticky memories and sweet betrayal. No one’s nailed that half-solid, half-sinful texture since. Every freezer door that creaks open in October chants, “The snack you could only say yes to…”

Waldenbooks

Shelved for eternity. We read entire magazines standing up, and no one yelled at us. Amazon may deliver faster, but it’s never handed us a free bookmark. Somewhere in an abandoned mall, phantom pages still turn.

Lawn Darts

Gone in a tragic accident of “common sense.” We survived, barely, and that’s why it was fun.

May their sharp pointy souls forever hover over the backyards of our youth—and emergency rooms.

Avocado-Green Appliances

No one asked for them, but like smoking sections in restaurants, they were everywhere. They matched the carpet, the casserole, and occasionally our eyeshadow. They died of embarrassment, only to rise again on the internet rebranded as “vintage-chic.”

Butterfinger BBs

Tiny chocolate landmines of dental demolition. Gone too soon, but not before destroying molars across generations. Some say you can still summon them with a candy cigarette pentagram and the soft chant of, “Nobody better lay a finger…”

Paper Maps

Laid to rest in the glove box after one fold too many. We didn’t need GPS. We had instinct and a passenger screaming, “You missed it again!” On stormy nights, you can still hear the ghostly voice moan, “We were supposed to turn right.”

TV Guide

Our sacred small screen scroll. We circled our favorites, prayed no one else would hog the set, and raced to pee during commercials. Streaming may be endless, but commitment was more exciting when it came in 30-minute episodes each week.

Oh Henry! Candy Bar

Nutty. Chewy. Confusingly punctuated. A legend who proved true love comes in caramel and chocolate. Gone to that great vending machine in the sky, but forever stuck in our teeth and hearts.

Answering Machines

Changing the outgoing message was an art form lost to “Just text me.” We rehearsed like we were auditioning for Broadway. “We can’t come to the phone right now…” still echoes through the void.

Bed, Bath & Beyond

Collapsed under corporate confusion and the weight of 37 identical bath mats. Its ghost now haunts our linen closets whispering, “You should’ve used that 20 percent off coupon.”

Hard Copy Cookbooks

Dog-eared, flour-dusted, and judgment-free. They fed generations before Wi-Fi did. Survived by Pinterest and Reels, they now rest in peace—with the ghost of Julia Child whispering, “Just add butter, not a link in bio.”

Our Boobs at 22

Perky, optimistic, and full of potential. Deflated but not defeated, they now rise only under full moons and overpriced underwire bras.

Clipping Coupons

Died of digital exhaustion. We once poured over the Sunday paper, scissors in hand to save 30 cents. Now you need three apps, a password, and therapy to save 15 cents on bananas. Their paper ghosts still rustle on windy nights, murmuring, “Double savings on canned beans…”

The News Shown Twice a Day

Perished in the era of 24-hour panic. It haunts our notifications, whispering, “It’s okay to not know for five minutes.”

Vienetta Ice Cream

Frozen elegance, forever sliced too thin. We didn’t need fine dining and Instagram. We had Vienetta, a fork, and denial about serving sizes. It was grocery store glamour, one crunchy chocolate layer at a time.

Pier 1 Imports

Ashes to ashes, rattan to rattan. Fell victim to too many wicker peacocks and not enough parking spaces. Every papasan chair is now in a “better place,” surrounded by ocean-scented three-wick candles and discounted beaded mirrors.

Cereal Box Prizes

The greatest breakfast thrill besides sugar. Killed off by QR codes and lawyers. But sometimes, if you shake the box just right, you can still hear a rattle of faint joy—or a plastic whistle from 1982.

Encyclopedia Sets

The original Google. Always confident, occasionally wrong, and heavy enough to count as a workout. Under a full moon, you can still hear them mutter, “Pluto is a planet.”

Original Herbal Essences Shampoo

Lathered. Loved. Lost. Gone are the days of green bottles of PG-13 hair hygiene. Each Halloween, if you moan “Yes … yes!” into a foggy mirror, it may return.

Dropping Film Off and Waiting Three Days

Patience was sacrificed at the altar of instant gratification. Every roll a mystery, every photo a gamble. Half were blurry, but none were online. Our ancestors still appear in grainy Kodak prints to remind us: Some surprises were worth the wait.

Happy Hauntings

As we gather here in this metaphorical graveyard, let’s raise a glass to the dearly departed—and to us, the generation that called the operator for the time, played lethal lawn games, and didn’t need four devices to tell us what to watch.

And this Halloween, when something howls in the night or your iPhone pings with another notification, remember: They just want to remind us who we were before self-care required a subscription.