Halloweens of Yore

I was trick or treating in the sixties (Well into the seventies as a teenager too—what can I say? It's my favorite holiday). I remember my youth's Halloweens as if they happened only yesterday. And, yet, as I write this down I realize how long it's been—forty years.

In forty years we, as a people, allowed our surroundings to degenerate to such a poor state that our children are no longer safe on one of the most enjoyable holidays of the year—Halloween. Of course, this isn't a revelation to most. October 31^st has been synonymous with evil-doings for quite some time. But the evils were in the telling of stories written to scare, not in the house next door ready to pounce upon us—ready to harm us.

My mother would read aloud the tribulations of Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, and The Three Pigs until my siblings and I shook from fear. Her just-off-the-boat accent made the telling even creepier (Did she say "sheet?"). And by the time we grabbed our pillow cases for our tremulous journey into the neighborhood, we weren't sure if the garnering of candy was worth it.

On our walk, each house sprang out of the darkness swallowing the lights that secured our way. Every shadow shifted their shape into menacing tendrils for fingers and elongated featureless faces that watched us from see-through sockets. It was terrifying.

Humorously adding insult to injury, my mother knew how we'd react. She purposely scared us. And she deliberately schemed to frighten us further with our neighbors' assistance. Porches were covered with goo, fake steps broke our porch climbs, and stuffed clothing leapt from chairs as we advanced to claim our treats.

It is a theory of mine that yesterday's parents were readying their children for the real world with such goings-on. Hell, to my mind, fairy tales were written with similar intent. As children, my friends and I knew how to approach the miles of dark alleys that stretched through every neighborhood. We knew how to avoid raggedy, surly, white-eyed strangers that blocked our paths on Woodward Avenue. After all, our parents couldn't be with us 24/7. And even if they could, who'd want them to be?

Oooo, I hear all the objections circling around in the heads of my readers:

"How cruel!"

"I would never do that to my children."

"What kind of parents were these anyway?"

Rest assured that each of my Halloweens is remembered with a great deal of fondness. I wouldn't trade these memories for any amount of money or wealth.

I grew up in a time when children—very young children for that matter—played for hours after school on street corners, in parking lots, or in the nearest woods. We built forts, played Cowboy and Indians or roller hockey. Bumps and bruises, jumping and climbing, fighting and block-sized wars were daily occurrences. And I loved it.

Oh, there were plenty of eyes watching over us—that's certain.

Everyone knew everyone else for at least five or six city blocks in every direction. Every parent was your parent—or so it seemed.

It's hard to believe families moved in the opposite direction as time moved forward. We hardly know our next door neighbors let alone the families on the next block. We don't trust our children in the hands of teachers, most friends, or even babysitters. And we rarely entrust our children with their own independence.

Halloween is now celebrated in church parking lots, during school hours, or at community centers. Nary a porch light lit after dark.

What saddens me most is that my children's children and their children's children will never know the Halloweens I knew. They'll never know the joy of being scared out of their wits and laughing hysterically seconds later. They'll never know the thrill of coming home with pillow cases full of candy and stomach aches that endure for weeks afterwards—for months if one traveled far enough from home adding more goodies to his/her stash. And they'll surely never hear the Fairy Tale Horrors to which I was so accustomed on each October 31^st.

Why even say "trick or treat" anymore?

There are no tricks and very little treats.

We might as well teach our children to say, "Give me…give me…give me." (Oops, they already do. "Something for nothing" is today's motto. Is it not?)

Today, Halloween is more like Panhandling Day for babies—of all shapes and sizes.

Tin cup anyone?

Comments

[John Wilkinson]

I agree with you completely. I didn't have a single Trick-or-Treater this year again. There are plenty of children in the neighborhood but their parents all take them to local churches for Halloween parties. The imagination has been drained from these children and their parents. Costumes are store bought and the kids are dressed innocuously as football players and princesses, hobos and pop-starlets. There's not a witch or devil among them. They get packed off into the family SUV to spend the evening safely removed from Satan and his followers, those that would poison the candy, popcorn balls and little minds of little Johnny and Suzie. They come home as late as seven in the evening, to count out their plunder of granola bars and fruit roll-ups, bleary-eyed and worn out from their evening of bobbing for apples under the watchful eyes of their zombie savior, his holy ghost and lascivious clergy. So much more wholesome.

[Russell]

Those were the days my friend
It seems that they did end
no one cares to put the predators behind bars
or adress the issues that made the streets unsafe
so people hide
or panhandle
I hear it pays pretty well these days

[Dave Bean]

Just damn.

I still remember trick-or-treating on "da mean skreets" o' Roswell (pop. 10,000 or thereabout, at the time) with J.R., Christopher, Andy, Jeffrey-Lee (from Chicaaaaaago, as he never tired of reminding us), and "Fleabag" when I was a kid.

No "Chesters," no sickies, no SWAT teams and no curfews; just good, old-fashioned fun.

On Halloween Night of 1980, the entire mob of us (and unlike Halloween of 2009, the circle was teeming with kids that night)hit every house in the subdivision, until our grocery bags were so full of candy; they weighed us down.

Christopher, Jeffery and I then adjourned to my house, where we rolled out our sleeping bags and sat up until 02:00 or thereabout, consuming enough candy to rot our teeth out on the spot, and watching _Night of the Living Dead_.

Thanks for bringing back the memories, Darlin'.

Love,

Your husband