Halloween was always a good time at my house.
I have so many Halloween memories growing up. Not that I remember many of the costumes that I wore…far from it. It was more the preparation that stays with me.
I vividly remember being in Kindergarten and walking as a class, not to the pumpkin patch to get a pumpkin, but to the local Esso station. They were piled up as far as the eye could see on some kind of cart and after our long journey to get there, took serious contemplation as to which one to choose.
Back in those days, that was quite a hike for a little person. The walk from our school to Shepherd Avenue was a good 3 blocks or more…BIG blocks that used to be forested. We walked in two’s Noah’s Arc style holding hands on a journey that must have taken at least a morning where we picked out the largest pumpkin available and then spent the afternoon scraping it out and carving it, not to mention roasting the seeds.
I could hardly wait to receive my Unicef box at school. Being the overachiever that I was, and wanting nothing to distract me from my candy mission on Halloween night, I collected my pennies for Unicef after school but before the witching hour. Most of my neighbours understood this. When new neighbours moved in, they did not and insisted that they would not fill my Unicef box before Halloween evening. Whatever. I was always so proud when it was full.
Dinner on Halloween night was always the same at my house…macaroni and cheese. Happily, not Kraft dinner, but real macaroni with real cheese. That was as fast as food came in those days.
My brother always managed to fill almost an entire pillowcase with candy. He covered more streets than I ever could. When we brought home the loot, our mother would check it over carefully before we were allowed to have any. Sneaking it enroute was forbidden and would only lessen the comparison with my brother at the end. It was kept in a bowl on top of the fridge and was doled out for weeks; one year damn near to Christmas.
My favourite candy was always the Rockets. Little convex discs of sugar that looked like pills nicely wrapped in clear cellophane packages. The purple ones were (and still are) the best. Even if I see them today in a corner store, I’m tempted to purchase them. That they’re still produced today is some kind of miracle. God knows Rockets (and Sweet Tarts) were responsible for more dental work in my childhood than anyone could imagine.
Caramels were always great and those yummy little chocolate bars. If we ever scored a little bag of chips, you’d think we’d died and gone to Heaven…chips were a rarity in our house.
Halloween then was always about the ritual of deciding on the costume. The weeks of planning that went into it. The discussion with friends. The one costume I remember was the year my brother was an astronaut. It was the 70’s and space (the final frontier) was all the rage having just landed on the Moon. The authenticity was striking.
Living in the suburbs, we never did anything crazy at Halloween…just garden variety trick or treating. But we would always hear stories of Halloween in the country from my mother where pushing over outhouses and covering stuff with toilet paper was all the rage. Actually, they didn’t need Halloween in the country to scare the crap out of them. The creepy house they lived in was sufficient with its root cellar and parlour that was straight out of a horror film.
Happy Halloween kiddies! Enjoy your costumes and especially your Rockets while they last. And don’t go into the root cellar if you know what’s good for you! Bwwaaahaahaaa.
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