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Trick or Treating in the Good Old Days
 Sandy Dickson

There were no designated Trick-or-Treat hours when we were kids, and trick-or-treating always happened on Halloween night. No one thought of starting and ending it during the day light hours and very few thought of harming kids
in any way with their "treats."

I had a bunny costume that Mom made for me. It was pink with a fuzzy round white tail and the headpiece which buttoned under my chin, had long bunny ears line in white on the underside. We generally dressed as hobos because there was no money involved in the costume and we could always wear Dad's clothes that were miles too big for us. Sometimes mom made masks for us by plopping a paper bag over our heads and cutting eye, nose and mouth holes out. Sometimes we got masks, which, then were made of a stiff gauzy material whose mouth area got wet and soggy after while of breathing, talking and trying to eating some of the candy on the way.  Our trick-or-treat receptacles were the largest paper bags we could find and we didn't quit until they were full or people turned their lights off. I don’t remember using the wiser choice of pillow cases, probably because Mom would have put the kibosh on it anyway.  The man who lived in the little brown shingle house back in the wooded area gave nickels away and we joked about the idea of going back several times in different costumes but never really considered it. It surprised us too, as he didn't have much money with his large family. As the evening waned and we felt we were running out of time, my sister and I split up, each taking separate sides of the same street and asking the people if we could have an extra helping for the sister on the other side of the road. They always smiled and gave it to us.

Some people made their treats and gave home made pieces of cake wrapped in waxed paper, which would have been good if eaten on the spot, however by the time they got home, they were smashed piles of crumbs. And despite how mothers loved it, no kid ever appreciates getting a healthy apple. I remember one time I really felt I hit the jackpot when for some reason I was out alone and went to one particular house which, I think, had their porch light off. A light showing through the window, to me, however, meant there were still people up in the house, and if there was anyone living and breathing in there, I couldn’t take the chance of passing up the potential opportunity. When I rang the bell, a lady answered and handed me a whole bag of candy corn. She said, “I told myself that if a trick-or-treater came here by himself, I’d give this to him.” Man, what a cache! 

People with long driveways and a house setting way back might as well not even bother to get candy to give away. No trick-or-treater is willing to sacrifice the time it takes to march all the way down the driveway and back in the same time it would have taken to net three or four houses’ candy. It’s simply not time efficient and displays lack of good judgment and good sense besides. 

Dumping the stash out on the floor was always really one of the experience's best parts, then trading. I never liked those chewy peanut butter candy kisses wrapped in black and orange paper. Trouble is, I don't think anyone else did either, so they weren't good for much trading.  I think Mom always hid our candy, but we habitually found it. There weren't that many places to hide things in that little house that we didn't know about or couldn't find eventually. 

The bad kids drew designs or words with bars of soap on people's windows and the really bad ones threw eggs on people's cars or houses. But with the price of eggs these days, I guess that isn't much of a fear anymore. We heard the occasional horror story of mean kids taking the candy of the little ones and to us that would have been the worst and most unthinkable of fates. At any rate, for us, Halloween was always a great experience.

Despite all the candy netted on this one special day, there were always a couple other reasons I so loved Halloween. These were the houses I walked past to school everyday back when it was still safe to walk to school without worrying about being swooped up by a child predator. I always wondered who the people were that lived in them and what their house looked like on the inside.  This was the one opportunity in the whole year to justifiably knock on someone’s door and not only see who lived there, but get a glimpse past them and see what the house looked like, even if it was just the living room or entry way.

Not only that, but Christmas and birthdays were the only time one got gifts, and they were always from someone the recipient knew. How nice that you could walk up to a stranger’s door and be given something. And it was something good that the recipient liked, as well as that the givers seemed to enjoy the giving. When else does that happen?

Copyright © 2007 Sandy Dickson. All rights reserved.