It only takes a whiff of leaf mold and a chill in the air to transport me back to the thrill of Halloweens past and trick-or-treating. It was a wild, scary, heart-stopping few hours where kids were all manner of things and parents stayed home. Almost as soon as the back-to-school “blush” wore off, kids were talking about what they were going to be for Halloween. Cinderella, Snow White, Bugs Bunny, the Lone Ranger and standards like a witch, ghost, hobo or gypsy were typical. Some got costumes from the local department store, but mostly kids patched something together and threw on a plastic face mask that got hot and sweaty in no time. One had to alternate flipping the mask up on the forehead to breathe, and then flipping it back down as soon as you hit the front porch of your next candy “score.” If one’s costume didn’t require a mask, the options were pretty much Mom’s lipstick and eyebrow pencil for candy-red cheeks, freckles, mustaches, warts, and what-have-you. Interestingly, mothers seemed to get right into the spirit of it and not mind their kids manhandling their make up or costume jewelry; siblings were not always so generous.
As soon as it got dark, and the little kids were finishing up, the bigger kids grabbed their pillow case and flashlight and headed out. We all had a friend or two to walk with and a plan for getting to the most houses. We knew which house gave out which candy: fireballs, bit-o-honey, lifesavers; one older couple always gave out comic books, which was cool, but then they wanted to TALK to you! Yikes; no time for that! While our primary goal was getting as much candy as possible, there were all kinds of dangers – “tricks” -- to avoid. Dodging the boys with their cans of shaving cream, avoiding the kid who had staked out the perfect place to launch water balloons on unsuspecting “gangs” below, and remembering to hang on tight to your UNICEF coin box, which you had to turn in to school the next day, made for a pretty wild evening.
I have a vivid memory of racing across a newly seeded backyard, trying to elude Dracula and a viscious looking hobo intent on intercepting my friend and me after we had politely accepted the Nestle crunch bars from a brand new neighbor. A pretty good little sprinter, I was instantly bogged down in the deep, soft topsoil and my Caspar costume went limp around me, my loot bag tangling between my legs. I was terrified of two things: my pursuers catching me, or the neighbor turning on their floodlight. Fortunately the would-be assailants turned back, but unfortunately for me, I ran right into a pricker bush at the edge of the yard, and worse, I lost my friend who had darted off in a different direction. Oh well; it was all part of what could happen on this wild night and these were good stories to tell on the playground!
I made it home by curfew with a bulging pillowcase to find Dad stretched out on the couch watching television while Mom cleaned up the apple bobbing area by the front door. She insisted that the kids really loved bobbing for apples. Privately, I wasn’t so sure anyone really wanted to put their face in a tub of cold water and get their costume wet, but at least she wasn’t handing out popcorn balls. My older sister arrived shortly after, out of breath and excited about narrowly missing getting “creamed” by Jeffrey Sharpe, the most mischievous boy in the neighborhood. The boys were still out, probably walking back from the Nelsons who lived near “Transylvania” along the more heavily wooded end of the lake. Only full-size Nestle crunch bars could entice any kid to walk along that dark stretch, even with a friend, on Halloween. Sure enough, here they came, slamming the kitchen door behind them, half laughing, one accusing the other of some infraction like running on ahead with the flashlight.
Dad watched us troop by and said, “Hey! How about a Hershey bar? You can spare one, can’t you?”
“O…k...,” we’d grumble, thinking about the high risks we’d just taken to get the precious chocolate. And then he’d almost always say something along the lines of how we should just dump all our candy in a big bowl…and that’s about as far as he got because he faced instant anarchy! He laughed, having gotten the reaction he wanted, and suddenly the energy drained out of us and we could hardly drag ourselves up the stairs to wash our grungy faces and fall into bed. Another exciting Halloween was over, but we still had our stories to tell and candy trading to look forward to after school the next day.
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