It’s Halloween, one of my all time favorite holidays.
I like Halloween because it’s not too cold, not blazing hot and that time of year has a great set of childhood memories.
Thanksgiving and Christmas also have good memories but those holidays are rushed and chaotic because of the obligations of family.
Halloween was always a little simpler and honestly more relaxed.
It was the one holiday you didn’t have Aunt Edna holding her Bourbon and Cigarette in one hand pinching your cheek off your face with the other, saying “Hello you cute little thing” and demanding a full mouth kiss!
I can remember hiding out at Thanksgiving and Christmas, until called for dinner. I was thankful that I was sitting at the kiddie table too.
Usually, by the time dinner was ready, Aunt Edna was too smashed to care if she’d made all the children sick to their stomachs.
It’s not that she wasn’t trying to be a nice person, she just didn’t get that most of us didn’t want to kiss a boozy ashtray.
Amazing how we kids adapted.
We’d go so far as to rat out the older cousins and / or siblings who were notably absent.
Then we’d be sent on the mission to find the cousins and siblings with orders from our parents to return home to greet all the “Aunt Edna’s” in the family.
Somtimes it was hard to find the cousins and even harder to find the siblings. We’d have to look for “hours and hours”, sometimes we might even have to play a game of touch football.
Of course if Dad was the one giving those orders he’d usually wink and we knew that meant come back in an hour or two… or when dinner was ready.
Then he’d pour Aunt Edna a stiff drink, all the while she’d be protesting how much he’d poured in her glass.
If you looked carefully, Dad would have the number of fingers that corresponded to the time dinner would be ready, hooked around the doorjamb.
Less than 15 minutes later Aunt Edna would be asking for a “freshen up” of her almost empty glass.
But we kids were free, and Dad would make the excuse that his work kept him far too busy to drive 60 miles to Aunt Ednas trailer park for a visit.
Halloween had none of that.
Halloween was about the costumes, the candy & in my day the tricks.
Not everyone had candy to give. Sometimes they’d just forget to buy some and instead we’d get the change from the bottoms of their pockets or purses.
A nickel or two in a treat bag could keep the tricks at bay for a year. (Thats why I understood the “Protection” schemes of the Mafia! Or maybe we learned it from the Mafia…)
Woe be unto those sitting at home trying to ignore us…
Our parents would check that we didn’t leave the house with toilet paper… What they usually failed to notice was that the toilet paper had been spirited out of the house in the 2 weeks leading up to Halloween and was now safely ensconced in one of several treehouses or forts around the neighborhood.
These places were the first stops we made. Then we went ’round the neighborhood collecting our treats and exacting revenge on those who’d earned our wrath.
Masks in place we’d settle scores accumulated during the year.
Old Mr. Barker who always shortchanged us on our newspaper routes and our lawn cutting. He’d claim that we’d lost the change he paid us for our paper routes.
He somehow thought asking “Do you have a hole in your pocket?” Or changing the terms of the deal AFTER we’d mowed the lawn in the hot Florida sun, made everything alright.
Mrs. White whose home was fenced in with 8ft tall fencing. Every Halloween she locked the outer gates to keep us “Little Hellions” off her property.
Her chihuahua could be heard patrolling the fence, but if you tossed it a chunk of hamburger it would let you pass.
Pass we did every year.
Her house was a personal challenge and soaping her windows, TPing her trees and cutting the locks off of her gates was looked forward to by most of the kids in the neighborhood. Each child leaving his or her distinctive marks.
None of those marks permanent and often the very kids who had the axes to grind were the same kids she end up paying to clean up the mess.
Unless your handiwork was too distinctive, then you’d be cleaning the mess up for free, under the watchful eye of your father and his ever-present belt.
In general halloween was a peaceful and wonderful holiday.
We were safe, it was our turf and the neighbors were all watching out for all the children, not just their own. The 7-eleven would give us free mini-slurpies and our pick of 5 pieces of nickel candy.
This was back when the guy who owned the 7-eleven lived in the neighborhood and respected his place and was respected in the fabric of the local society.
This was someone who knew if your Mom didn’t like you drinking cokes and would tell you to go put the coke bottle back.
He’d sell you Gatoraide, milk or orange juice without question. Once every week or so, he’d “forget” and you got a coke. On those days you’d be on top of the world, like the luckiest kid on the planet.
These were days when every business, and home had a band-aid for skinned knees. I myself had band-aids applied to knee and elbow at the 7-eleven after a particularly nasty bicycle tumble.
I remember the shock I felt hearing about vandalism of the permanent kind having been done one Halloween.
It was all the talk at school and my classmates were disbelieving and sad. We knew that something had changed. We wouldn’t understand the change until a couple of years later when razor blades were reported in candied apples.
Suddenly our world wasn’t so safe and we became more suspicious.
It took several more years for the 7-eleven man to sell out, & move to the Keys.
The new guy wasn’t as “kid friendly” and always accused us of stealing from him. We didn’t. Not once did I ever see any of my friends take something without paying.
He saw no difference in kids, we were all bad as far as he was concerned. As a consequence we became exactly what he accused us of.
One Halloween we let loose our fury on him. TPing the store, his car, and the dumpsters. We also changed the sign that read;
“No More than 3 children in store at one time” to “NO Children welcome in store at any time”
That began a year long boycott. We’d do anything to prevent our parents from shopping there. For a solid year all the kids from the elementary and junior high school didn’t darken his door. Even in the summer we rode our bikes 8 blocks further away, to load up on our sweets and drinks.
Eventually the closest 7-eleven closed forever. As it turned out, the guy that owned the place was nasty to everyone. He had accused children of stealing and forced kids to turn out their pockets, even when they were accompanied by their parents.
We saw the changes mounting.
Halloween now had limits. The size of the neighborhood we could roam was smaller. The time to be back was 9PM instead of Midnight. (Although we usually camped out, so there was no curfew. But even camping was eventually forbidden as too dangerous.)
Eventually we were called upon to walk with the little kids, to herd them back into the loving arms of their parents at the end of the evening.
I remember catching a glint of sadness in the eyes of the father of one of my friends as we returned at 9 with his youngest child in tow.
He remembered how it used to be, Jacks Dad remembered fondly the one night a year when it was ok to be wild.
I remember it too. Cool wind, sweets, and fun.
Me & my buddies immortal and free, always together, knowing they had my back as I had theirs.
We acted as controls for each other too. Our morals reenforced each others so no matter how wild or angry we might have been, the voice of our parents and ministers whispered in our ears. “You boys know right from wrong…”
We did, and 95% of the time we chose right over wrong.
The 5% where we didn’t were learning experiences. Lessons about guilt and forgiveness, and why choosing the right way was best.
I wouldn’t trade my childhood for all the tea in China.
“Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.”
I still love Halloween
Now where did I hide that candy stash?
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
