By james art As a kid growing up in Gary, Indiana, I used to go to Halloween fun dressed as a hobo in my dad’s old clothes, with a candy cane cigar in my mouth and an old-fashioned hat on my head.
No one booed me for being lazy about an instant suit. It was in the 70s.
Jerry Davych
All Hallows’ Eve was just the time for my friends and I to stay out as late as possible and beg for as much candy as possible. Point. We used old pillowcases—not store-bought plastic pumpkins—and stopped at home only to unload our candy before venturing out into the darkness again.
We literally ran from house to house yelling “trick or treat!” and then swing by The Lure hamburger stand across the railroad tracks for free fries. Every year, we found a van with volunteers offering warm apple cider and cold donuts to the kids before returning to the same houses only to change costumes.
The only kids I knew who didn’t trick or treat were physically unable to do so.
I remember one of my friends broke his leg the week before one Halloween and had to use crutches to get around our subdivision. He went as “Evel Knievel,” motorcycle helmet and all. it. it was. Brilliant.
At the end of the night, my friends and I traded our favorite candies. I would come home with every Nestle crunch bar I could find and my dad would raid my case for his share of our pirate loot.
I was a big Charlie Hustle fan. Not so much for Pete Rose.
My friends and I thought we were so cool every Halloween. It was the best night of the year because we were allowed to pretend we were adults, sort of, just us at night navigating our neighborhoods. We followed our instincts and the porch lights of strangers, not our parents’ fears.
These may be hazy water color memories of the way we used to be, but that’s what Halloween is all about. Candies are eaten or thrown in the trash. Costumes are lost or given away. But our fond memories live on as ghosts haunting the shadowy sidewalks of our childhood.
I know I sound like an old man wracked with old man rocking chair nostalgia. But seriously, what happened to our streets being flooded with kids going door to door all night long for free candy and souvenirs?
This must be a blissful fantasy for youngsters. Yet here we are in the dreaded “Era of 24/7 Paranoia” with helicopter parents injecting fear into their children with reckless irresponsibility. “Don’t go down that street! Don’t eat that candy! Don’t stay out past 6 o’clock!”
I blame the parents and grandparents, the same ex-tricksters who must have forgotten the spooky joy of Halloween. Too many of us are instilling the wrong kind of fear in young people, insisting that a fictional scarecrow might kidnap them that night. Unfortunately, Charlie Brown.
Pretty soon life will turn into a haunted house for our kids with ghosts, ghosts and real life ghosts. It’s as inevitable as unwanted candy on Halloween night.
The inner child in me is still clinging to the web of excitement of this holiday. The pure fun of it all — pretending to be someone or something else and being rewarded with tasty treats and no gimmicks.
So here’s my challenge to parents and kids: Let’s show some holiday spirit this Halloween, if only for old time’s sake.
Forget buying that fancy orange plastic bucket. Instead, grab an old pillowcase from your past’s closet. Forget buying that expensive suit. Instead, come up with something from home. If nothing else, be a bum, even though no one says bum anymore.
This year, introduce your child to the ghost of a fading tradition. This year, revisit your childhood for at least one evening. This year, take your kids for a walk down a stretch of Halloween Trail. Instill in them the fear of running out of treats. Pretty soon they will grow old, just like we did.
There is nothing scarier than that.
I have another challenge to anyone who hasn’t had a trick or treat in decades. Instead of staying home and handing out candy, leave a bowl of candy on your porch with a sign threatening to track down any punk who takes more than one. If it doesn’t work, who cares. Just be thankful your bowl wasn’t stolen like it would have been by my childhood friends.
Enjoy the parade of costumed children running past you. Enjoy the fresh air and fall colors. Enjoy the memories that will swirl around you like dying leaves.
This Halloween, my wife and I plan to hit the streets to experience the haunted intersection of Halloween past and Halloween present. And we’ll do it in costume – she’ll be a shark, I’ll be Yip Yip the Martian.
If I’m lazy, I can always go as a hobo.
Davich writes for The Times of Northwest Indiana: [email protected].