Halloween and a Brown Paper Sack

You might have seen this photo before, on one of my blogs, and read the title thinking that my post is about this photo. It is not! Was this click bait? You decide while I tell my next story.

When we moved from our rural town in Missouri to Washington, Illinois, my mom was so protective of her children that it often got on my child nerves. Of course, I thought I knew better than she did. I mean all of my friends roamed the city, and they were still alive.

Sometimes, it takes growing up, and maybe having your own children, to appreciate your parents and all of the things that they did for you. Funny how that works.

(You can read about my rural to city move in Trading Lives, if you wish.)

One Halloween evening, dressed in our purchased masks, my brother and I were allowed to grab a brown paper (grocery) sack and go trick-or-treating, outside of our neighborhood. I don’t remember Mom or Dad tagging along with us, because we were with a group of neighborhood kids, but maybe they did. They might have been walking our sister around, if she was old enough, but my guess is that Mom took her around our own neighborhood. Here's another reason I don't think Mom or Dad was with us. Mom told me to keep an eye on my brother that night. I was around 10 1/2 years old (I think),and the brother would have been seven. Dear Readers, keeping an eye on him was like trying to hold onto a tadpole in water. I often failed. He was in perpetual motion always and NEVER listened to me.

That night the streets and sidewalks filled up fast with kids out to find candy. We must have been limited to the three block area that led to my elementary school since I don’t remember going any farther. The streetlights showed the way for costumed kids who roamed, giggled and yelled trick-or-treat. I had one panic moment when I lost sight of my brother. He had slipped away, folded into the night of Mardi Gras style Halloween-ing. Soon we caught up with him and his little friend knocking on a door.

One of the houses that we stopped at that evening set off my creepster meter. We knocked on the door. A man opened it and told the group that he would not give us treats unless we did a trick for him and his wife first. (I can still see the living room in my mind.) The man motioned for us to enter and my brother immediately dashed inside the room, like they were old friends. One of the more sassy kids in our group challenged the man, saying that trick or treat didn't mean that we had to do a trick for candy. It meant that if he didn't give us candy, then we could do tricks on him like toilet paper their trees and other things that I can't remember. The man belly laughed. He was amused, but repeated his request. We do a trick and we would get our candy treats. Then...our entire group of kids filed into their small living room. From one to another, down the line, my “candy colleagues” did their tricks. Some whistled. Some hopped on one foot. Others sang songs. For the life of me, I don’t remember doing anything and maybe I didn't. I was super shy. However, I do remember getting a regular sized candy bar out of the deal.  

Through the evening, we ran from house to house, carrying our containers of candy. At one point the large brown sack that some of us toted became too full to carry. Some of us ran to our houses on Hamilton Street to grab another bag and return where we'd left off. We only hit a few additional houses after that and it was time to go home.

I will be honest and tell you that I don't know if these are the costumes we wore that night, but this picture was taken while we lived on Hamilton Street. I'm the troll in the back. Troll dolls were really "in" at that time. I think my sister was wearing a spider man mask. My brother's mask might be a werewolf. I'm guessing.

Back at home, I remember dad saying the candy needed to be looked at before we ate it since some people were now putting razor blades in candy bars and apples. It was a sad day to hear this news. I immediately thought of the creepy man who gave out great candy bars after the performances, but kept my creepster meter to myself. A kid can't say too much to adults when there is candy involved. My mom told us to share our haul with our baby sister. I never minded sharing candy with her. She was little and sweet. At some point, I dumped all of my collected candy on the bed. 

I don't remember even considering razor blades as I ate a bunch of candy that night. The apples were no problem either since I didn't eat even one.

What a haul!