I lost interest in Hallowe’en when filling a candy sack became a business

Back in the old days, kids walked from house to house when they went trick or treating. Parents often accompanied the younger kids and that was okay. The last neighborhood I lived in before moving to the country was a subdivision.  Kids–up to ages long past their treat-or-treating years came by car. The cars went from subdivision to subdivision. Naturally, that was a greedy expediency many of us didn’t like and accounted for the fact we didn’t know most of the people who rang the doorbell.

There’s nobody out here on my rural road to ring the doorbell on Hallowe’en, but I keep my porch light off to indicate we’re not playing the game.

In addition to the caravans of cars bringing kids from the far side of town, Hallowe’en lost its lustre when kids expected a handful of full-sized candy bars: like I can afford 4-5 bars per person for a hundred people. Greed took the fun out of it. And the tricks got worse, too–actual vandalism instead of the more lame TP in the trees and soaped windows.

Greenwich Village Parade

I still spell “Hallowe’en” with an apostrophe because, after all, the word is a contraction for Hallowed Evening. Most people don’t know that and more’s the pity. It’s okay, I think, to honor the dead, though I don’t believe in this nonsense that the so-called veil between worlds is thin on this holiday allowing more interaction between spirits and people. But, like the otherwise logical people who hang horseshoes over their doors “just in case,” you won’t find me anywhere near a cemetery on Hallowe’en. 

Meanwhile, if you happen to walk down my road Tuesday night on All Hallows Eve without waking up ten thousand snarling dogs, I won’t be leaving a porch light on for you.

–Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell is the author of the short story collection “Widely Scattered Ghosts.”