“Glarghhh!” A chorus of gags and retches fills the kitchen. The culprit: raisins.
Nicolas (five years old), Matthew (seven), Jade (five), Sarah (nine), Megan (10) and Avery (five) are wide-eyed and pink-cheeked with excitement, counting down the days until Halloween when they will flit up and down sidewalks, haunting doorsteps in search of candy. Not raisins. Candy.
I can remember the same excitement written across my own face—the same excitement that disappeared with any mention of raisins.
My memories of Halloween are tied up in the tinny chug-chug-chug of my mother’s sewing machine as she created costumes, from a simple Superman outfit for my brother to a sublime flamenco dancer dress for my sister. A grainy picture of my sister and I—a witch and a clown—creepily standing on our porch like two tiny serial killers instantly brings back the damp heat of the inside of our masks as we dragged pillowcases from house to house in search of sweets. For us it was never about the trick, we just wanted the treat.
We wanted that breathless moment at the end of the night, masks cast aside and makeup smudged, where you pick up your bag by its bottom corners, flip it over and dump your haul into a lumpy pool of sugar on the floor. Wrappers would gleam in the lamplight, bags of chip proudly puff above the crowd of chocolate bars, suckers, Rockets and gum. “I think there might be something wrong with this one,” my Dad would laugh. “I better eat it just to make sure.”
Twenty-five years later, nothing has changed. Kids are still dressing as witches and clowns and it still comes down to that simple mantra: “I want candy.” The mere mention of a toothbrush dropped in their bag and their eyes darken with horror, frowns and groans touch every lip.
“We don’t want anything healthy,” says Megan. “It’s Halloween! We want cavities!”
“I like suckers,” Avery says. At the tender age of five, she has it all figured out. “They last a long time and some of them have bubble gum in them.”
She also likes Rockets. “They’re so sweet and sugary!” she sighs, quickly followed by Jade’s dreamy squeal of “they’re powdery!”
“I like Sweet Tarts better,” Matthew demures. And then, as suddenly as their rapture over Rockets ends, an argument over the merits of Skittles begins.
Sweet, tart, gooey, chalky, gummy, crispy, crunchy, soft, hard, icy or spicy, there’s no shortage of candy flavours and textures. Given the option, these kids want them all. But there isn’t a single candy they can all agree on as the best. Not even chocolate. “I like caramel better,” Nicolas shrugs.
They do agree on one thing. Whether it’s a full-size chocolate bar, a big bag of chips or a can of pop, bigger is better. There is only one house on Matthew’s route that gives away those epic goodies. Jade says there are “like, 10” on her block. But she also says, “I start at midnight and trick or treat down to the end of my road,” so I doubt her veracity.
“I also like when they put out the bowl that says ‘Take one please,’ and you don’t have to ring the doorbell,” says Sarah, who takes the opportunity to create her own super-sized treat. She laughs and confesses to taking “three, at least.”
They also agree not to eat homemade or unwrapped candy. “All the open wrappers go in the garbage,” Matthew says, mimicking a throw at the nearby garbage can. “If I don’t know them, they might have put something in it,” agrees Sarah.
“When my mom and dad have to see if it’s safe and not poisoned, they just eat all of it,” says Nicolas.
“That sounds like my Dad,” says Megan. It sounds like my Dad, too.
This article appears in Oct 28 – Nov 2, 2010.
I live in the rural bit of Nova Scotia and Halloween was simply lacking this year. We had one trick or treater, and you had to drive over 1km just to see another jack-o-lantren! it was terrible! on the plus side my costume was awesome!