HALLOWEEN MEMORIES

Today is Halloween, a day when it is perfectly acceptable to put on a mask, bang on a stranger’s front door, and demand candy. If you did the same thing any other day of the year you’d probably be arrested.

You can tell today is Halloween by visiting any department store. Only two aisles are devoted to Christmas merchandise (as they’ve been since Labor Day). But first thing tomorrow morning, every square inch of the store will be bulging with trees, tinsel, blinking lights, and mechanical dancing Santa dolls.

When I was a kid, Halloween was the second best holiday of the year, because, let’s face it, nothing could top Christmas. But despite its second-best status, we loved Halloween as children because we would get something we never got the rest of the year: a trick-or-treat bag filled with candy. It’s not that my parents prohibited us from eating candy. It’s just that with five kids in the family and my dad being a teacher there was not a lot of disposable income to spend on junk food.

Whenever my parents were able to buy us a small treat, say, a bag of M&Ms to be split five ways, as soon as my mom ripped the edge of the package there would be a frenzy, similar to the underwater cage scene in “Jaws.” Within seconds all the M&Ms were inhaled, parts of the bag were often ingested, too, and my mom would have to check to see if she still had all her fingers.

On Halloween we would get 95-percent of our annual chocolate consumption in a single evening. All we needed to do to amass 30 pound of candy was grab a pillow case, throw on some hastily-assembled costume, and ring doorbells for a couple of hours. Some of my more memorable costumes included: pirate (bandana on head, eye patch, and say, “Arrrrh!” a lot), ghost (cut holes in bed sheet and drape over head), and ballerina (swipe sister’s tutu when she wasn’t looking, eye patch, and say, “Arrrrh!” a lot).

Later, when we finally returned home, it was my duty as the oldest child in the family to make sure my siblings had not received any tainted candy while trick-or-treating. On many occasions I carefully inspected six mini Snickers bars for one of my younger brothers, then declared, “These are safe. Here’s your four Snickers bars back.” (If he happened to notice, and then protest my unique inspection methodology, I would reply, “Carrying charges, my boy, carrying charges.”)

Halloween is for children, although many adults refuse to accept this fact. When I see, for example, a woman in her 30s or 40s, who is seemingly normal other days of the year, dressed up in an elaborate and expensive witch’s costume, complete with detailed green make-up and a broom, I’m polite enough to say, “Wow, that’s quite a costume.” But in the back of my mind I’m really thinking, “Oh my, I can’t even begin to imagine the emotional issues you’re struggling with.”

On the other hand, since I’ve never dressed up on Halloween as an adult, maybe I’m the one with emotional issues—possibly tutu-related issues. Who knows?

Well, I hope everyone has a nice time tonight. Try not to eat ALL your candy this evening. (Something I was never able to do as a kid, which is why I usually did not fall asleep until about November 3rd.) Also, I’d like to apologize in advance to the youngsters in my neighborhood. My wife is kind of on a responsibility kick these days. So, sorry about the toothbrushes and dental floss in your trick-or-treat bags.