Farm organizations took longer than usual to react and were remarkably nuanced in their response to this week’s long-awaited federal budget.

When the news releases did flow into inboxes, the responses were measured. None gave this budget a failing grade. There were no ringing endorsements either.

The Canadian government has come up with measures that will put real dollars into farmers’ pockets at a critical time. The impact of some of the “takes,” however, is less tangible. The consequences won’t become visible for years.

The government officially backed down on measures such as the enhanced capital gains provisions that would have increased the collection on land transfers by millions due to the relentless appreciation in farmland values.

When U.S. President Donald Trump hosted a Great Gatsby-themed party at Mar-a-Lago on Halloween night, just as food aid to millions of Americans was being threatened by the government shutdown, pundits talked about the poor split-screen optics.

Sure, the feathers and furs, the beaded dresses and dinner jackets, the champagne and caviar, could be seen as tonally off in a time of trouble and uncertainty for so many.

But beyond that obvious and immediate discordance, has no one read the book?

A generic Roaring Twenties party can still deliver hot jazz, diamond tiaras and complicated cocktails, if that’s what you absolutely crave. When you bring F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jay Gatsby into it, you’re adding a whole lot of (possibly unintended) layers.

DEAR MISS LONELYHEARTS: I’m experiencing some fallout from Halloween. I’ve been separated from my wife for three months now and took my two daughters out for trick-or-treating last week.

Their mother said not to come by her place as the girls had already eaten lots of treats at home. That sounded fake to me.

Anyway, at the end of the night, the girls insisted on going to their mother’s house, and “tricking” her. So, I gave in and took them over in their costumes.

When we arrived, they yelled out, “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!” Then some big guy came to the door, and my girls yelled, “No! Get mommy for us!”

DEAR MISS LONELYHEARTS: I spotted an old lover at an annual Halloween bash, and he was in a full pirate costume. I recognized him right off the bat because the pirate thing is an act he’s been pulling off for years — and succeeding to the max with me, I must admit.

I was dressed as a sexy black cat to catch his eye. I waited for him to make his move. He likes to sneak up on me at parties and growl in my ear. It’s predictable, but still a turn-on.

His wife couldn’t make the party, as usual, so he came on his own in his van. It’s the way he travels best — a sneaky guy with a bedroom on wheels so he can make a quick getaway when he’s ready.

Why doesn’t this pirate leave his boring wife for someone like me, who could match his fire?

Canada’s loss of its measles elimination status this week is more than just an international embarrassment. It’s a sign of how badly our public health infrastructure has eroded and how far we’ve slipped in protecting one of the most basic tools of modern medicine: vaccination.

For the first time since 1998, the Pan American Health Organization no longer considers Canada measles-free. The reason? Outbreaks across several provinces have lasted more than a year, and public health officials haven’t been able to stop the virus’s spread.

That’s not because measles suddenly became more infectious. It’s because our systems — from vaccination tracking to public education — have broken down.

Experts say Canada’s fall from grace was preventable. The science hasn’t changed. What’s changed is our politics, our public health funding and the spread of misinformation that’s convinced far too many people that vaccines are something to fear.

DEAR MISS LONELYHEARTS: My mother-in-law had a wild-and-crazy youth and actually spent some time in jail. At the lake this fall she told me about some of her experiences, and what hard lessons she learned when she “went away” to do time in a correctional facility.

I have such admiration for her and what she went through, and also for how successful she is now. I’m a teacher, and I told her recently I’d love for her to share some of her experiences with my all-girls classroom.

To my dismay, she flatly refused! She isn’t talking to me much anymore. How can I fix this uncomfortable mistake?

— Crossed Line? Southern Manitoba