And a Day Later, It's November!

Halloween. Last year I had thought I bought enough candy for the kids but as usual, I ate it. Then I went out again to buy some more swearing to All that was Holy that I wouldn't. I succeeded but I hadn't bought enough. It's tricky in this neighborhood as you can never tell how many kids might stop by. There have been ones where I may have had ten kids, others forty. All you can do is hope to shut the light off before the next batch arrives, lest you let them down.

Last year, I sat on the front steps dolling out the goods. I ran out and saw a gaggle of kids coming down the sidewalk. Damn, my light is still on and they can see me sitting there, what do I give them? I ran inside to get this bowl I throw my keys in, my spare change and pocket lint.

I come back out and start dumping coins into the kid's bags. One of them, a seven year oldish boy then yells down the street, “Hey! This guy's giving out MONEY!” That was like ringing the dinner bell. They all came, the ones who heard at least.

Of course, the fourteen year olds show up looking for goodies. I'll give it but I also have this smirk on my face as I do. I can't really blame them as I did the exact same thing when I was their age. But Halloween is for the little ones and it's them I reserve the Snickers for. The teens get those “A Buck a Bag o' Lollipops.” from Job Lot.

My memories from then are good and bad. Bad in that we met certain neighbors who were just jerks, but it wasn't really surprising. We would go to their house, ring the bell in hopes the holiday might have softened them up. Not with Mr Gross (his real name). Mr Gross lived on Hamlet in a small ranch and was a grizzled ex-cop. This guy had a permanent sneer on his face and Halloween didn't change that. We went there, rang his bell and could see him sitting on his couch watching TV. He growls, “Go Away! I don't have any candy!!!” My Mom rolls her eyes and led us kids away.

Then there were the O'Keefes. They had a gaggle of kids and the Dad would decorate the house, living room in ghoulish curtains and play that Horror Film music on his stereo. We approached the house one Halloween to see the Spectre of Death standing on the porch. It wasn't moving at all, just a tall black shrouded thingy holding a scythe. We walked right by it to ring the door bell as it was just a mannequin dressed up, in our opinion.

Helen, the youngest of us, dressed as a fairy, felt the scythe come around her neck and we all turned when she let out this plate glass breaking shriek only little girls can give. The rest of us didn't really turn to far to see what was going on as our little Helen's warning system was enough to make us all run.

Poor Mr O'Keefe can running down the street at us, apparently trying to get us to come back. It wasn't till he pulled back the hood did we notice it wasn't some freak trying to kill us. We had been warned about razors in apples, poisoned candy and the like so our radar was up a bit too. Helen was the last to climb that porch, even with her Mom's assurances that it was THE Mr O'Keefe.

Remember when you would dump the loot on you living room floor and then Mom or Dad would act like Homeland Security to analyze what you had been given? I do. After that, I'd portion all the candy into best to least liked. I'd always pawn off the Necco Wafers on my Dad as I hated licorice and he didn't.

Then there was the defense of my little treasure against the Big Brother Ken, who would try to snatch Reese's away from it. Defend at all costs rang out in my head and we fought some, though he was just doing because he knew I'd react to any attempted theft.

Now, all grown up, that holiday just zips by. As a kid, you'd count down the days to something like that. I wish I could still be that enthusiastic about something like that again.