The Essays
"The Worst Halloween Ever"
My cousin was born on Halloween, so every year we would all congregate at her house to have ice cream and cake before we went out trick or treating in our costumes all over her neighborhood. Most years we had homemade costumes that had taken our mothers weeks to prepare. Back then store-bought was only for "rich" kids.
Some of us cousins lived outside the city and came in to party "in town." By the time we finished with the party, there might be 20 or so kids ready to hit the streets. Our group consisted of siblings, cousins, friends and neighborhood kids. We traveled far and wide, up and down the streets. We used pillow cases for treat bags and never got back before 10 PM.
There was one stop on the way that gave us great pleasure. The man of the house would come to the door and invite us all in to the living room where his wife was propped up on pillows in a big old hospital type bed passing out candy. She was ill, but derived great happiness from seeing all of us in our costumes. She was very generous and made a great fuss over our costumes, no matter how homemade or store-bought they might be.
A few doors down from this home was another house. The man who lived there was not so nice. He would ask every child where they lived. If you did not live in the neighborhood, he wouldn't give you any candy. I thought he was the meanest man in the world. Every year he asked me where I lived, and I told him Custer Park, not Bradley, where my cousins lived; and every year he held back giving me candy.
After a few years of this we went trick or treating as usual, but when we came to the house where the ill woman lived, her husband came to the door and started to pass out candy. We were all surprised. I asked him why we couldn't go see his wife, like we always did. His eyes misted over and he told us she had passed away. We were really sad.
But being children we went on to the rest of the houses. When we got to the mean man's house, he asked again where we lived. My cousins told him they lived on Kennedy Dr, and my sister and brother said the same thing. I just looked at him and said Custer Park. "No candy for you," he said.
I told him he could keep his rotten old candy anyway. Then I started to cry. Not for lost candy but for the wonderful lady who invited stray children in to give her some happiness, and us too. For the husband now left without his wife.
It was a very sad Halloween. It's been over 40 years, and I can still remember the woman, whose name I never knew, laughing at a ragtag bunch of children all screaming Trick or Treat, and she generously obliging each and everyone.
Charlean Souligne