I remember back in my youth, when Halloween was something you started talking about in the last days of summer. The leaves started changing to a hint of autumn colors, and the mornings got cooler. It usually started with talking on the school bus about what we wanted to be this year, then with slow walks home from the stop to our homes. Back then, costumes were basically a cartoon or superhero bought at the five-and-dime for families who could afford one. At my house, Mom listened to what we wanted to dress up as, and she somehow made it happen starting in September. I can still hear her sewing machine deep into the night, piecing together bits and pieces of discarded materials and letting her creative juices run wild. The end results were amazing, as she made me and my sisters' costumes we could only hope for, like Alice in Wonderland for one sister and the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz for the other. My costume that year was a pirate, and it looked so good I won the best costume award at school.
Today, costumes are mass-produced and displayed in stores and online as early as August, when most kids are still enjoying summer vacation, and parents gasp at the prices. It used to be a couple of pumpkins and a cardboard skeleton hanging in a front window; over time, that evolved into a display of projected goblins with sound effects that could wake the dead. Back when we knocked on a door yelling trick or treat, we meant it. If no one answered the door and hid inside a darkened house, we'd thank them for nothing by decorating their trees with toilet paper and running for dear life as pieces of our candy fell out of our bags. Do that today, and the homeowner would call the police and try to sue our parents.
I remember going home after hours of trick-or-treating with a huge amount of candy and other things like shiny new pennies, apples, and popcorn balls, just to name a few of what some people thought a kid would like. We'd dump our bags on the floor, and Mom and Dad would inspect everything that could harm us. If there was a half-wrapped piece of candy, it went into the trash can because Dad said there are some bad people out there who want to harm us. He told us stories about apples with a razor blade inside and another about pins inside popcorn balls. But after their inspection, they threw away a dozen items and left us with mountains of candy. My sisters and I made piles of the same kinds of candy, like Milky Ways, Butterfinger, Snickers, Reese's peanut butter cups, Chunky bars, and more. Then we'd split them up, and we each had the same amount of every kind of treat. Even Mom and Dad got into the fun, taking a piece or two of their favorites and putting them into a small bag they hid somewhere we'd never look, and it lasted for weeks, maybe more.
I believe the spirit of Halloween stays with us, but it can never compare to the times when we were left alone to join our friends, sometimes with our younger siblings in tow, that slowed us down but made their day as their little hands and mouths were covered in chocolate. Parents who came along with the little ones carried flashlights to light the way for all those princes and Cinderellas who sometimes tripped on their costume dresses and fell down, leaving Dad to wipe away a tear and pick up the scattered goodies. Another Halloween passed, and another memory for kids to relive on the school bus the next day. Kids pulled out a couple of candy bars hidden in their pockets, some trading for something better than they had. Darkened pumpkins sat on the porch, soon to be discarded, and the cardboard skeletons didn't move anymore, packed away in a box marked Halloween stuff. As for those costly costumes, I believe the best was a simple white sheet with cutout eyes and no mouth, hiding a giant smile.
Mike 2026
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