Maybe it was 1960 or 1961 when it snowed over twelve inches just in time for Trick-or-Treat in our small town in Northwest Pennsylvania… I was sporting my brand new ballerina costume that I had wanted forever. Mom finally agreed after much pleading. Needless to say, I was both excited about Halloween that year, AND seriously upset when mom insisted that I wear my snowsuit and boots, complete with hat, mittens, and scarf OVER THE TOP OF my lovely new ballerina costume! Not cool at all…
My brother, three years my junior, was out for his first real Halloween haunt, and he had the misfortune to have inherited my Indian costume that mom made me wear for at least three years in a row “because it still fit.” Brother didn’t seem to mind about the costume, fortunately. He didn’t seem to mind about having to wear the snowsuit and winter paraphernalia, either. Nor was the knee deep snow an issue. Quite a good-natured kid… He was, however, VERY excited about all the candy he would get after an evening of trekking through the rural neighborhood!
So, we had a warm dinner, and mom and dad helped us get ready, mom making sure our winter garb was secure and complete. Dad, flashlight in hand, led his two little kids out into the cold dark spooky evening… It wasn’t long before we connected with a few other dads’ and their children, all our good play buddies. The disappointments about clothing were soon forgotten, and we had a great time going door to door and sharing the fun with friends and neighbors. We knew that mom was planning to have warm hot chocolate when we returned. That was a real treat at our house.
As we all grew cold and weary from our Halloween adventure, there were some dragging feet, a few falls, a few tears, and my little brother grumbling about how heavy his bag had become. As I walked behind him at one point I realized he had been dragging his bag of candy. And since mom had sent each of us off with paper sacks, the light bulb went on in my head that the wet snow was bound to break down the bottom of the bag if stayed wet… Sure enough, when I investigated the status of his back, the bottom was practically gone, along with nearly all of his treats! So, the tears flowed, the nose ran, and the sobs continued as our Trick-or-Treat group retraced many of our steps to try and collect some of what Dan had lost. The process made my bag extremely heavy, and left all of us quite exhausted with fingers and toes growing numb from the cold. But dad kept our focus on the image of hot chocolate and a warm house waiting for us.
This was perhaps my first vivid memory of a genuine holiday stress experience — when the fantasy didn’t go according to plan. Mother Nature (and my own mother, for good reason, that didn’t seem so good to me at the time) did not cooperate with my agenda.
Lesson learned that year: You can have a plan that works for you, but that doesn’t mean it will play out the way you want despite all your effort and good intention. I am glad that I also remember well how happy my little brother was when I shared the treats from my bag with him… That part of the story is actually one of my best holiday memories… As we spread out on the living room carpet I let him pick out all of his favorites from our huge pile. Dan was ecstatic in those moments… I was left with all the Butterfingers because Dan didn’t like them. I didn’t like them either. Oh well… Our mom did.
Oh, another lesson learned: Don’t give your kids paper sacks for their Halloween candy! Years later as a mom I used something made of a durable cloth or plastic.
Share one of your memorable Halloween experiences!