Halloween was one of the few times that we could get away from the farm, school, chores and get candy – and so we looked forward to it greatly.
Most of our neighbors were older folks and as I remember, we only went to a few places. The next door neighbor, Leonard and Inez saved the toys from the cereal boxes for us – I remember one, a little toy airplane that flew when you blew it off of a drinking straw. But after they passed away, there was no point of even trying, as his son Raymond brooked no nonsense from us. We knew him instead, as the man who hired a kid at 85 cents an hour to load hay bales from field to mow for his cows, having no pity on us even at 100F in August, and then always rounding our hours down.
Next lived a pleasant old couple, Bert and Hattie, who although they didn’t have any store bought candy, did give us a large brown store paper bag of popcorn. Having lived part of their lives poor, they developed a taste for fresh, hot popcorn, salted and sugared and shook in the bag with melted lard (butter reserved for company or to trade at the store). It was actually pretty good, and the brown paper bag with its rich lard soaked bottom was interesting too. The popcorn had to be made fresh from their own garden popcorn ears, shelled and popped while we waited and listened to a story or two of the olden days on the Barrens when all they had to eat was lard and bread for school lunch, and sprinkling some maple sugar on it made it palatable.
We didn’t stop at the next two houses as both had men who drank to excess and families too poor to stop and ask for a treat.
So our next stop was Grandpa and Grandma. Now they never bought any candy from the store, but always made it; Christmas candy ribbons, taffy, fudge and whatever Grandma thought she might try. She usually had us there to help pull and wrap the taffy – pretty good with our buttery grimy hands giving it flavor and color more than the normal Watkins flavorings she added. She loved to have us visit, and if we dressed up a little, she oohed and aaahed at her little kittens come to visit.
I think once or twice we stopped at Uncle Maurice and Aunt Myrtle’s place and got popcorn balls; another time at Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Ramona’s and got some fudge candy with wild hazelnuts.
Did we ever get a real store bought candy bar? Can’t remember it for Halloween. Maybe that is why I buy extra now and when no one shows up, eat on it until I get sick.
While we were out on the road gathering our sweets, a few neighbors or cousins stopped at home and got a treat from Dad who stayed behind. I remember cousin Mike coming late and trick or treating at the door. Dad asked "If I don't give you a treat, what trick might you do?" (none of us had ever been asked that, and Mike probably never either). “Tip over your toilet, “ Mike replied (about 10 years old). “Go ahead,” said Dad, knowing his new outhouse was bolted to a full concrete foundation and likely 10 people wouldn’t be able to budge it. When Mike looked like he might start blubbering, Dad invited him and his twin sister Marlys in and gave them a real candy bar each that had been hidden away from us.
Then my family got religion and found out Halloween was a celebration of devil worship, and so from then on we were stuck going to the church basement bobbing for apples and playing wholesome games, while wishing we could be sinners like regular people who went to town to get real candy bars on Halloween night.
Most of our neighbors were older folks and as I remember, we only went to a few places. The next door neighbor, Leonard and Inez saved the toys from the cereal boxes for us – I remember one, a little toy airplane that flew when you blew it off of a drinking straw. But after they passed away, there was no point of even trying, as his son Raymond brooked no nonsense from us. We knew him instead, as the man who hired a kid at 85 cents an hour to load hay bales from field to mow for his cows, having no pity on us even at 100F in August, and then always rounding our hours down.
Next lived a pleasant old couple, Bert and Hattie, who although they didn’t have any store bought candy, did give us a large brown store paper bag of popcorn. Having lived part of their lives poor, they developed a taste for fresh, hot popcorn, salted and sugared and shook in the bag with melted lard (butter reserved for company or to trade at the store). It was actually pretty good, and the brown paper bag with its rich lard soaked bottom was interesting too. The popcorn had to be made fresh from their own garden popcorn ears, shelled and popped while we waited and listened to a story or two of the olden days on the Barrens when all they had to eat was lard and bread for school lunch, and sprinkling some maple sugar on it made it palatable.
We didn’t stop at the next two houses as both had men who drank to excess and families too poor to stop and ask for a treat.
So our next stop was Grandpa and Grandma. Now they never bought any candy from the store, but always made it; Christmas candy ribbons, taffy, fudge and whatever Grandma thought she might try. She usually had us there to help pull and wrap the taffy – pretty good with our buttery grimy hands giving it flavor and color more than the normal Watkins flavorings she added. She loved to have us visit, and if we dressed up a little, she oohed and aaahed at her little kittens come to visit.
I think once or twice we stopped at Uncle Maurice and Aunt Myrtle’s place and got popcorn balls; another time at Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Ramona’s and got some fudge candy with wild hazelnuts.
Did we ever get a real store bought candy bar? Can’t remember it for Halloween. Maybe that is why I buy extra now and when no one shows up, eat on it until I get sick.
While we were out on the road gathering our sweets, a few neighbors or cousins stopped at home and got a treat from Dad who stayed behind. I remember cousin Mike coming late and trick or treating at the door. Dad asked "If I don't give you a treat, what trick might you do?" (none of us had ever been asked that, and Mike probably never either). “Tip over your toilet, “ Mike replied (about 10 years old). “Go ahead,” said Dad, knowing his new outhouse was bolted to a full concrete foundation and likely 10 people wouldn’t be able to budge it. When Mike looked like he might start blubbering, Dad invited him and his twin sister Marlys in and gave them a real candy bar each that had been hidden away from us.
Then my family got religion and found out Halloween was a celebration of devil worship, and so from then on we were stuck going to the church basement bobbing for apples and playing wholesome games, while wishing we could be sinners like regular people who went to town to get real candy bars on Halloween night.
