The Final Halloween

Newsletter 2024-11-01

We came. We saw. We begged for candy. Thursday night, we took what might have been our final shot at glory. For three straight hours, my full crew trick-or-treated harder than they’ve ever tricker-treated before. If we were a sports team, people might say our championship window is closing. My oldest daughter, Betsy, is aging out as my youngest, Waffle, is reaching her prime. There was a very real chance this would be our only year of overlap. If we were going to set a new family record for most candy collected, it was now or never. Our bags were open and our hearts were set. It was go-time.

We hit the streets at exactly 6:00 p.m.. I knew this was serious because even Lola was on board. When she got in the van, she brought her cross stitching. It’s the only thing that keeps her awake through full movies on our date nights. This year, she was in it to win it, even if she, like me, were merely on the support crew. Our main job was to drop off the kids where they needed to be and listen to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire until they got back. I truly enjoyed walking for Halloween in past years. It was good exercise, and it gave me an unsolicited glimpse into the lives of strangers every time one of them opened their door. It’s the only way I knew who was neat and tidy and who was secretly practicing black magic. Fun fact: Trick-or-treating was invented as a way to catch real witches in their homes. As much as I liked to pry, past experience has proven that driving yields far more candy than walking. If we wanted to beat last year’s candy tally of sixty pounds, tradition would have to give way to mechanization. I put the van in drive and took off.

I called off our first attempted stop. A fraternal lodge at the end of our street usually hosts a trunk-or-treat in the parking lot. Last year, they moved it inside, but it still seemed to be open to the public. I’m basing that on the fact that they didn’t throw us out when we walked inside. It was their own fault for not demanding to see membership cards for all kids in costumes. This year, the parking lot was full, but there was no exterior signage. They had gotten wise to us and limited the event to members only. I couldn’t blame them. The only point of most clubs is to keep me out. Instead, we kicked off our Halloween with a cluster of three houses across the street. If we were going to set a new record, we would have to do it the hard way. The kids were up to the challenge.

We doubled back to our own street. I dropped the girls off at the far end and had them work their way toward our house. Porch lights were lit up on both sides for as far as the eye could see. I was proud of my neighbors, nearly all of whom are total strangers to me. They came through on the one night a year when I remember that they exist. We stopped before we reached our own block. Our house had the only illuminated porch light there. We’re takers, but we’re also givers. Just not to the same degree. Last year, we left out a candy bowl for trick-or-treaters while we were out trick-or-treating ourselves. Based on the forensic evidence we later found at the scene, one kid stole all the contents of the bowl, complete with the pumpkin lights we stuffed inside to draw attention to our fake generosity. This year, I stuck the bowl under our doorbell camera. If anyone were excessively selfish, there would be a record. We got alerts on our phones all night. Mostly, they were for the decorative ghosts swinging from our porch ceiling that the camera thinks are people. We had seven groups of trick-or-treaters come by. Five included actual children. Two groups were teenage boys in gray hoodies carrying backpacks. The boys, of course, took the most, grabbing multiple handfuls each. I couldn’t complain too much since I was out trick-or-treating with my own teenager. At least she was wearing a costume.

Last year, Mae begged me to hit the neighborhood by our church. We got there, but not until the end of the evening. On the way, I kept getting distracted by other houses. It was like an open world RPG where you can never get to the main storyline because there are too many side quests. This year, I made that neighborhood the first stop after our own. The candy there was okay but not great. We were too early in the evening. Houses were still rationing their handouts so they didn’t run out. There were two highlights in that area. The first was a horse. Last year, I saw pictures on Facebook of a full-size horse tied up in a random backyard. Thursday night, we found it.