“Halloween”
We all know the Grinch stole Christmas, but I’d like to know who made off with Halloween. I’m talking about the Halloween that used to be just for kids. The age-old holiday when your kids dressed up like witches or monsters and visited the neighbor’s houses chanting, “Trick or treat, trick or treat, give us something good to eat.”
Before then, when I was a kid, Halloween parties were planned weeks in advance. That gave everyone time to create the best disguise so you could have the thrill of being the last one guessed at the party.
One year, when I was about eight years old, my sister and I begged to have a Halloween party for our friends from the neighboring farms. We worked hard sprucing up the basement. We dragged dry corn stalks in from the fields and placed them in the corners. Grinning jack-o-lanterns and black cats made from construction paper weeks in advance greeted our guests.
In my quest to be the last one identified, I’d insisted my mother pin me securely into my ghost sheet costume, so no one could peek. I watched in dismay, arms locked in folds of white, as the bowls of candy corn, platters of doughnuts and the sweet cider disappeared before my eyes!
Years later, I couldn’t wait to take my first child trick or treating. My two-year old had a pair of blue silk Chinese pajamas and I made her a little coolie hat. We practiced “trick or treat” until she could say it perfectly. At the first home and at every door after that, she held out her paper bag and gave the poor occupants the dirtiest look she could muster, while refusing to utter a word. She came home with quite a little sack full of loot anyway.
That same year, her daddy came home with large size candy bars. “I can finally afford to give out the kind of loot I would have liked as a kid,” he declared.
There was just one problem. While I was out with our mute China Doll, he stayed home with baby brother. We both forgot to take down the “Shoo-baby sleeping” sign from the front door. Nary a goblin knocked on our front door