Forget Christmas, the big rush happens on Halloween
We are bracing for the mother of all Halloweens this weekend on
my street. Already a favored destination of candy-seekers, the
predicted decent weather combined with the fact that Halloween is
on a Saturday could create a flood of outfitted sugar mongers in
the neighborhood.
Forget Christmas, the big rush happens on Halloween
We are bracing for the mother of all Halloweens this weekend on my street. Already a favored destination of candy-seekers, the predicted decent weather combined with the fact that Halloween is on a Saturday could create a flood of outfitted sugar mongers in the neighborhood.
When Oct. 31 falls on a weekday, we at least can bank on a good portion of the trick-or-treaters to finish their rounds by 8:30 or 9 p.m., because they have school the next day. That last half hour or so is usually reserved for the teenagers who are allowed to stay out later and are hoping to scrounge any leftover candy that people are willing to give away.
This year will be different, though. It’s Saturday, so there’s no school the next day; and it isn’t expected to rain, so the crowds won’t be washed away.
We are prepared, as always, with bags and bags and bags of candy. More than 20 of the 150-piece variety, which, if we are judicious in our candy-giving, will last well into the night. My traditional back-up plan of raiding my sons’ candy bags when we don’t have enough left to give out won’t be there this year as my teens are probably going to be more interested in socializing than waiting in line for a Milky Way.
I miss the days when Halloween didn’t require trips to Costco and line-management skills at my front door.
When I was a kid, I dressed up like a hobo (sorry, that’s what we called them in the ’70s) or I wore one of those cheap plastic masks that was affixed to my face with an even cheaper rubber band that would either pull at my hair or break within a few minutes.
We cruised around the neighborhood and knocked on whatever house had its porch light on. There was no competition to see who could do the most outlandish or ghoulish or fantastic light display. We wanted candy and if you wanted to have your creepy uncle pretend to be a zombie and try to scare us when we approached the porch, we were cool with that.
That’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the lengths to which my neighbors go to entertain on Halloween. It’s pretty darned impressive. I have a few lighted pumpkins connected to extension cords around my yard because I want to fit in – if not be anywhere near to the stellar shows available up the block.
As adults who no longer escort our boys on their candy-gathering rounds, my wife and I get enjoyment out of Halloween by seeing friends, relatives and acquaintances who are escorting their children around the block.
We give an “aww, how cute” to the little princesses and Power Rangers and baseball player costumes that offer a “trick or treat” as they stare into the bowl of candy hoping for their favorite variety. We also cast a wary eye at the teenagers who wear their normal clothes and still ask for candy.
“We’re dressed as teenagers,” they’ll say. OK, I can respect that. Just don’t come back for seconds.
I remember my trick-or-treating days well. The houses that gave out the name-brand candy were the cool spots and the ones who gave out the stuff you get with your bill at the end of dinner were cheapskates.
If your children visit my house after the rush this Saturday, please prepare them to get some sort of non-chocolate hard candy from this cheapskate, because all the good stuff will be long gone. The upside to showing up late is that we may be in a mood to dump all our excess reserves, even to teenagers dressed as teenagers.
Adam Breen writes a blog at http://thebreenblog.blogspot.com. He teaches newspaper and journalism classes at San Benito High School and is a reporter for The Pinnacle. He is former editor of the Free Lance.
