Halloween was confusing. All my life my parents said, ‘Never take candy from strangers…I didn’t know what to do. I’d knock on people’s doors and go, ’Trick or treat…No, thank you.”

–— Rita Rudner, American comedian

The opening sentence of Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s novel “Paul Clifford” was written in 1830 and it goes like this, “It was a dark and stormy night, the rain fell in torrents…except at occasional intervals…” The sentence rambles on and is considered by most the worst of all literary openings. On the other-hand the first seven words have been copied, argued, mocked, parodied, and enjoyed by many -— the children of East John Street included.

On East John Street, where I grew up, Mom made a big deal out of Halloween. The carport had a storage room with doors on each end. She would clear a path from one end to the other. The week prior she cooked spaghetti noodles and put them in a bowl. These would serve as brains. Grapes were eyeballs. Ketchup was blood. The neighborhood children would be blindfolded when they went through the spooky house. Their little hands would be plunged into brains, eyeballs, and ketchup. Scary things would hang from the ceiling and draped over heads as the children were led through. Scary howls and creepy laughs would play from my toy record player. At the end a ghost or a goblin would reward the brave trick-or-treater with a bag full of candy.   

Besides the spooky house there were great piles of leaves where we’d run and jump in the piles and burst out laughing. Dad participated in the Halloween festivities by gathering kids together in a circle. We sat on the ground. He told a story that went like this, “It was a dark and stormy night and round the campfire gypsies sat. One of the gypsies said, ‘Lionel, tell us a story. And Lionel said, ‘It was a dark and stormy night and round the campfire gypsies sat. One of the gypsies said…’” This story would go around numerous times with children falling all over the ground with roaring laughter only to beg to be told the ridiculous story again and again. A night of hilarity.

As the festivities wound down it was time to trick-or-treat the neighborhood where everyone knew everyone. The first kids to make the rounds would alert the others as to who had the best treats and everyone would converge on that house. Eventually porch lights went out and doorbells weren’t answered and the night ended for another year.

Sam’s Halloween memory was about growing up in East Columbus with his two siblings. He remembers being a ghost either by an old sheet or a pillowcase. That night Sam was given a grocery store paper bag to collect candy. His best friend Johnny had a pumpkin head. After a long evening trick-or-treating from door to door the boys headed home. Sam dragged his paper bag behind him through the dew-covered grass only to discover a hole in the bag and all his candy was gone. Thankfully Johnny shared his candy with Sam, though a bit reluctantly.

Those days are gone as was the candy that night, but the sweetness of the memories remains.

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].