Halloween always had a rhythm to it. The rustle of leaves in the trees, the smell of distant bonfires, and the sound of plastic masks clacking against candy buckets. But for me, the real magic came later that night, when I’d dump my haul onto the living room carpet and start sorting through the treasures.
There were always the usual suspects: Tootsie Rolls, Smarties, small trinkets like witches finger nails or spider rings, and the occasional rogue pencil. But every now and then, something special would appear. I remember the thrill of spotting a box of Nerds nestled among the candy bars. Back in the ’80s, those tiny boxes were gold. My friends and I would bring them to school the next day, comparing flavors like connoisseurs. If you scored grape and strawberry, you were basically royalty.
Then there were the candy cigarettes. I know they’re frowned upon now, but back then they were a rite of passage. My dad smoked, and puffing on one of those chalky sticks made me feel like I was stepping into his shoes just for a moment. Of course, the taste always won out over the act. I’d end up crunching them down before I could finish my pretend swagger. At school, they were currency. You could trade them for gum, stickers, even a seat at the lunch table if you played your cards right.
There were years that I got gift certificates for a free ice cream cones at McDonald’s. It wasn’t something I could enjoy that night, but it felt like a promise. A future treat. I tucked it into my drawer like it was a savings bond, counting the days until my mom would take me to cash it in. That little slip of paper felt like power.
And then there were the wax packs of baseball cards. I couldn’t believe it. On the street where I would trick-or-treat, there was an older gentleman who handed them out instead of candy. He must’ve been a collector himself, passing the torch to the next generation. I remember opening those packs with reverence, hoping for a Cal Ripken or a Don Mattingly. Even the stale stick of gum inside was welcomed.
But nothing beat the mystery of a treat bag. Those little paper bags were the jackpot. Inside, you’d find a mini candy bar, maybe a spider ring, a few Tootsie Rolls, and sometimes a sticker or a glow-in-the-dark ghost. It was the surprise that made it special. You never knew what you were going to get, but you knew it was going to be good.
Looking back, it wasn’t just about the candy. It was the sorting, the trading, and the saving. Each piece had a story, a memory, a moment attached to it. Halloween wasn’t just a night of costumes and doorbells. It was a celebration of childhood in one of its purest forms.
I’d give anything to dump out that plastic pumpkin Boo Bucket one more time.
Remember all, but we mostly got candy. Did have a house one year that took Polaroid pics of each kid in their costume and put them in a little cardboard frame and handed them back. Was pretty cool, since we never thought to take pictures!
Nice!