Really. Halloween at my house when I was growing up meant homemade costumes that we helped construct, my dad’s birthday (which is October 31st) getting short shrift, and getting to eat 1 (that’s ONE) piece of candy that night after we got done filling our pillowcases with candy.
Okay, picture that now and wonder– did anyone make fun of my brother’s Martian costume because the hat/helmet was made from a combination of a painted milk carton and toilet paper tubes with tennis balls on top? No way, they thought it was awesome! And that’s even before the word ‘awesome’ hit the regular teenage vernacular. Did anyone laugh because we collected our candy in old pillowcases? No, because their pillowcases were just as avocado plaid or mustard-flowered like ours. C’mon it was the early eighties, and no one could afford to redecorate when they had little rugrats running around.
Our Halloween candy was rationed out at a piece daily– the peanut butter cups going first and the jawbreakers left for desperate times– until the excitement of the Christmas season began to take over, we forgot all about Halloween candy and my mother stuck it in the freezer where my visiting grandfather would sneak it late at night until she had a quiet fit and threw it in the garbage.
I was fine with that, and all through my childhood I had a cavity-free set of teeth to prove it. I can’t say the same for my grandpa, though half of his teeth were false ones already.
Special Needs: Halloween Treats (by Karen Faciane)