Probably
the most enjoyed season for us kids was
Halloween. The days had grown shorter, so you
could start getting prepped for the evening
early, say around 2 p.m. Since this was a small
town, we were, for the most part, allowed to go
out trick or treating by ourselves.Big mistake.
Going out the door with a large paper sack, or pillow case, lots of warm clothes on, and a rubber mask, your evening would begin. Those rubber masks were probably designed by the adults to shorten our evenings.
The eye holes were never aligned, the things simply would not stay put on your head, and worse, drool would accumulate in the chin part of the mask. Trying to eat a frozen tootsie roll with that mask on would result in your speech being severely affected. Instead of saying Trick or Treat, it would come out as ‘Ick or Reat,’ with a splash of chocolaty drool landing on your shoe.
Getting together with other members of your posse, you canvassed the streets for the “dime” candy bars. A dime candy bar, in the 50s, was a really BIG candy bar. Those folks who gave away a dime candy bar would be the first, second, and last, on your list to trick or treat.
If all went well, you could snag at least two and sometimes three of those bars without the folks giving them away getting wise to you.
Aw well, adults always seemed to be one step ahead of a kid. It wasn’t long before the wiser of the adults made us sign a register.
“We just like to see who has been to our house trick or treating this evening.”
Ya Shore, lady.
That was handled by us youth by simply signing someone else’s name the second and third time. That idea came to an abrupt halt when they made us take our mask off, so they could “see your smiling face.” What remained for us then was to interrogate smaller kids walking around, find out if they had gotten dime candy bar somewhere else.
Lots of energy would then be spent running to those newly found homes with the big candy bars.
The evening would eventually come to an end, with all of us kids making our way home.
In later years, I would learn I wasn’t the only kid who hid a good deal of his candy somewhere outside so the folks would not eat it all. Of course that plan had its drawbacks too.
The inevitable question would be “You’ve been gone trick or treating five hours and that’s all you got?” That query required some fancy footwork to avoid.
For me, reaching a gangling 6’ height at the age of 11 or 12 kinda ended the evenings of dime candy bars. The adults would stare pretty hard at you when you towered over them.
But the memories of a rubber mask sticking to your face, trying very hard not to trip and spill your sack and getting dime candy bars are all part of a growing up in a small town.