I grew up in one of four houses that sits at the mouth of Farmington canyon. Every year on Halloween my mom would buy bags full of the best kind of Halloween candy.
She bought mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Snickers, Butterfingers and M&Ms. Brave trick-or-treaters who made it to my house found rewards far better than dum dum suckers or jawbreakers?they got chocolate.
I say they were brave trick or-treaters for two reasons: First of all, each child was required to take the candy from the bowl him or herself.
This was no simple task considering the fake, but very real-looking, bloody hand resting atop the candy bowl. To 6-year-olds, the hand always seemed to be reaching for the very same piece of candy they had targeted as their own.
Brave ghouls and goblins eyed the hand warily and then quickly snatched that prized mini chocolate bar.
The less courageous trick-or treaters usually settled for a piece of candy attainable at a safer distance from the hand. But they too walked away with a coveted Halloween commodity.
However, most youngsters in my neighborhood never had to face the bloody hand. They never made it past the first obstacle to my house on Halloween night.
On a moonless night, the mouth of Farmington canyon is extremely dark. There are no streetlights to fight the darkness. Trick-or-treaters are faced with a difficult decision: They can forge ahead, up the hill into the blackness, or they can turn left and walk downhill into a well-lit neighborhood with far more than four houses. Five out of seven usually choose the latter.
As a kid, I would get really offended that other kids didn’t come to my house to trick-or treat on Halloween.
The fact that we had a lot of extra candy didn’t help. After eating most of the sugar-laden contents of my pillowcase in one night, I didn’t care much about the left over candy my mom had bought?except when I realized this meant that while I had visited every house in the neighborhood, others had chosen to pass mine up. It seemed like the community was excluding me and my home from the Halloween ritual.
From today’s perspective, it seems silly that something so trivial would have such an affect on my young mind. Now I realize that the fewer children who come knocking at your door on Halloween, the more economical it is.
But there are other issues at work in this childhood memory. All that left-over Halloween candy could have easily contributed to my chunky adolescent years.
And children running around in costumes in the dark asking strangers for candy isn’t necessarily the safest and most enjoyable of possible holiday activities.
It makes you wonder why daylight-saving time isn’t extended one more week to the first Sunday in November. It would give trick-or-treaters more time to solicit in the daylight?and, more importantly, maybe my house would no longer seem so ominous.