JOSE MACIEL: Memories of tricks, treats of years past
MACIEL: We let a few ruin it for the rest of us
| Friday, Oct 30 2009 04:03 PM
Last Updated Friday, Oct 30 2009 04:03 PM
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Halloween. It conjures up ghosts and witches, black and orange. Candy corn. It can be special -- a treat. Or terrifying -- a trick. Sometimes it's both. But now in retirement, and with an empty nest, Halloween is mostly just memories.
As a young boy I used to go trick-or-treating with my younger sister. My older brother and sister would go with their friends. When we got home, our father would have out on the kitchen table the bowl that awaited for our loot. Its stated purpose was to collect all the treats so that they could be equally shared. But we all knew better. Its actual purpose was for dad to pick out his favorite candies, which he quickly stashed in his secret candy hideout. That was definitely a trick.
Later, as a teenager, I hung out with my own friends on Halloween. We drove around throwing raw eggs at our other friends. And windows. Big picture windows were our favorites. Times were very different back then. It was fun. It was harmless -- I think. At least none of us got arrested or sued. My own car was left home and my parents' car was my transportation for the night. No point getting eggs all over mine. That would not have been a treat.
As an adult in the workplace, costumes were worn to the office. I didn't always participate but when I did, it was usually a clown costume for me. Seemed like a perfect fit. The Halloween parties after work were very similar to those in college -- just at someone's home and not a dorm room. But I gave all that up with marriage and fatherhood. What a treat.
As a young boy, my son loved dressing as a cowboy. Every year brought a new pair of cowboy boots. So of course that was his Halloween costume. Then he progressed to Indiana Jones: a brown jacket, my old backpacking hat and a whip brought from Mexico by his grandparents. But for some reason, gathering treats was not his idea of fun. After about three or four homes, he was done. My sweet tooth screaming out for more, I tried every imaginable ploy to move on to the next house. My son wouldn't be persuaded. Of all things, he actually preferred to go home and hand out candy to the other kids. It was a treat for him. And a trick on me.
Then quicker than you can say "trick or treat," he was a teenager. With a license. The cowboy boots, fedora hat and whip were put away in boxes, replaced by teenage interests that didn't include walking down the street holding his dad's hand. And handing out treats was absolutely no longer an option for him. It was time. Time to throw eggs of his own, completing the cycle.
Handing out treats was up to me now. The next generation of trick-or-treaters beckoned with every ring of the doorbell. Time to make a fuss over costumes, watching the parents as they watched me hand their children treats. Some parents watched from the sidewalk, others from just within the circle of the porch light, usually all smiles while prompting their little devils or angels or bumble bees to thank the nice man. Halloween, it turned out, was the classic example of feeling better about giving than receiving. Definitely a treat.
But as the years passed, fewer and fewer rang our doorbell. Fears, rational or otherwise had taken hold. Needles and razor blades in apples. Yikes. Homemade treats laced with poison. Who comes up with that stuff? We, as a society let the few ruin it for the rest of us and for our children. Again. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe in the interest of child safety we should yield to our fears, rational or otherwise. But maybe in our zeal to protect, we destroyed a great family tradition.
These days Halloween isn't as important or exciting. And that's a shame. I live in an over-55 community now and there aren't any young children ringing door bells and screaming out "trick or treat." No more princesses, vampires, cowboys or Indiana Joneses. I miss that. That and the feel of my son's small hand in mine as we walked to those few houses before we headed back to our own. Now that was a treat.
