When I was a kid trick or treating in California in the 70’s, I remember taking names of certain places after hitting them up for candy. This is how the houses would be labeled: bad (people wouldn’t open), cheap (they’d give you a tootsie roll or two), weird (apples), and super cool (people who would give you a handful of goodies).
When it would be my turn to trick or treat with the kids coming to my door, I promised myself I would be among the super cool houses. True, that opportunity would finally come at the tender old age of 43 and in another country, but this was going to be my chance to be a cool house when the kids would be knocking on my door. I had bought over a hundred bucks worth of candy just for this occasion, and I was determined to give it all away. When we would return home from trick or treating back in the 70’s, you knew your parents would confiscate the candy. After all, you didn’t want the kids to get sick from eating too much of it, did you? It also meant, quite conveniently, that the parents had their pick of the candy after the kids had gone to bed. It’s kind of like paying a toll or a candy tax to your parents.
I would also be home alone, as Liebi would take the kids trick or treating, leaving me by myself in my super hip 70’s disco dancer costume and a bottle of Mendoza (Argentinean) red wine to keep me company. So, beginning at seven o’clock, I go outside with a basket full of candy and wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
It isn’t very warm, the first raindrops are falling, and I turn up the Bee Gees CD (what else would a 70’s disco dancer play?) and wait for the kids. It isn't until thirty minutes later that the first group shows up, accompanied by their parents. By then, I've turned my front yard into a dance floor, and bust a few moves to Stayin’ Alive to stay warm. For anybody looking into my front yard, it must have looked like somebody had gone loco.
When the kids do show up, each one gets two handfuls, and I think I could have given them more. Problem: most of their parents have given them these mini pumpkins that can hardly hold a plum. What people do these days to prevent their kids from getting cavities...amazing.
I get two more groups, fill their bags to capacity, and then wait for the next group. The problem is, that’s when the rains start coming down. Hard.
Time to re-locate. I take the candy and my chair, not to mention the CD player, to the garage with a roof over it, and open the door so the kids have easy access without getting wet. I open the back door of the Pilot and sit there, waiting for more kids who won’t show up.
When the rain suddenly subsides somewhat, the group of kids including my boys finally turns up. Yet even after filling their bags, I still have a substantial amount of candy left so that I even ask the parents to have some. I even hope for some groups to return to the house.
Only now do I realize that I should have prepared something for the parents (like jello shots), since they have to trudge along as well to every house with little reward. Lesson learned.
I still have a load of candy in the basket, which I hand out bit by bit to my kids now. They paid very little of a candy tax, come to think of it.
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