In a stereotypical “back in my day” spirit, I can’t help but wonder if younger generations truly appreciate the candy-harvesting bounty that is Halloween.
When I was young, candy didn’t seem nearly as easy to come by outside of Halloween. Teachers didn’t dole out Starburst if you won a round of Kahoot; there was no Kahoot, only memorizing your times tables and peanut butter chews in the cafeteria unrelated to academic achievement. Halloween was an important economic opportunity as the increase in candy supply started to approach our insatiable demand.
Additionally, there was one—and only one way—to secure the sugary commodities we so eagerly sought: knocking on doors, reciting the magic words, and holding our pillowcases open like little orphans begging for more. This yearly ritual was grounded in a sacred covenant between children and parents: if we dressed up like a vampire or Smurfette, they would reward us. Sure, there was always an orthodontist in the neighborhood pedaling toothbrushes, but for the most part, Halloween was the singular night society allowed us to indulge in our wildest urges—kind of like a G-rated version of The Purge.
And then, somewhere along the way, the world gave us “trunk-or-treat.” I respect your choice to stay within the friendly confines of the community center parking lot, but there’s nothing spooky about fetching Skittles from the back of your Kia Sorento. Not to mention, doesn’t the trunk-or-treat concept contradict all the advice we received about staying away from strangers luring us into their cars with candy?
Candy is prevalent enough in my kids’ lives that there have been years they’ve traded in their Halloween haul at a crusading dentist’s “buyback program.” My twelve-year old self would never stand for this injustice; my aging stash of Milk Duds lived in a flowered melamine bowl until well past Thanksgiving.
While the relative value of candy may have decreased, I still encourage this year’s treat-or-trickers to put in the work. Embrace the door-to-door hustle, savor the mystery of the dark porch, and remember that nothing comes for free—except the candy bars your parents pilfer from your goodie bag when you’re not looking.
