Halloween on South Harrison Street in West in the late fifties brought out the neighborhood kids in en masse: the Kaskas, Kudelkas, Mynarciks, Zatopeks, Mazanecs, Sykoras, McKoys, Maraks, and Karliks. On that one evening, dozens of little Czech-Catholics freely roamed the street without being shouted at by adults to “watch for cars!” The parents did the watching. My dad, with his flashlight, kept a wicked eye for any car driving more than five miles an hour. I remember one incident when a neighbor, who was probably in a hurry to get home after a stressful day, had to face my dad at the front door—ordinarily a quiet man, my dad gave this guy hell for his carelessness. Yay, Dad!
           Back then, Halloween was just as exciting as it is today, except without all the extra trimmings. Most of the kids went door-to-door wearing masks and toting huge grocery sacks. Some dressed in simple buy scary costumes: ghosts, devils, skeletons, vampires, witches, and an occasional Frankenstein. There were also some non-scary ones: a Robin Hood, Superman, clown, gypsy, pirate, or cowboy. Some older kids wore neither masks nor costumes. Kind of like, “Just put the candy in the sack, ma’am, and don’t ask any questions.”
           I was usually content with just a mask, the typical Lone-Ranger style. It made breathing and talking easier. But I do have a picture of myself at the age of two, dressed as a cowgirl. And yes, I wore red boots. (So, maybe now you understand. [See blog post from 9/5/21].)
           But, the real point in celebrating Halloween was not to dress up: it was the candy we collected. And the kids on South Harrison knew what to expect from each house. At one house, you always had to answer a few stupid trick questions first to earn the treat. At another place, they handed out those orange, sugary candies in the shape of pumpkins with no wrappers—not considered necessary when I was a child. Some folks would give us those peanut butter, caramel-flavored candies (these were in black and orange, in wrappers.) Or Peanut Butter Bars that we used to call bacon because that’s what they looked like. Some handed out bubble gum—gross. Others thought jawbreakers or Life Savers were a great idea—also gross. One woman (I tried to avoid her house, but my parents insisted we knock on her door) had the audacity to drop a piece of fruit in our sack. Do you know what a heavy orange does to a paper bag half full of candy? I do. It rips the bottom out. Hell, if I wanted a piece of fruit, I’d just pick one from a tree in the backyard. Every now and then, someone would either forget to buy candy or just didn’t bother, and they’d give us money, usually quarters, which in the late fifties had a lot of purchasing power, plus they were lightweight.
           Now, let’s get to the real reason Halloween exists: Chocolate. Milky Ways, Three Musketeers, Baby Ruths, M&Ms, Mars Bars, and Almond Joys are all okay, but to me, the Snickers was the sole purpose of trick-or-treating. After a night on the street, we’d gather in the den and dump our booty in a pile on the floor, then start trading. There were always those odd kids who would gladly trade their Snickers for licorice or bubble gum. That always baffled me. Had they never eaten a Snickers? Were they born without taste buds? And it wasn’t just me who loved this chocolate bar with peanuts, nougat, and caramel, because Snickers are the best-selling candy bars in the world. They hit the market in 1930 at five cents and remained at that price until 1969. There are about sixteen peanuts in each bar. The pattern on the bottom comes from the conveyor belt on which the bars cooled. I don’t remember a pattern on the bottom. Who bothers to look at the bottom? But that’s a damn good reason to head to the store and buy a Snickers to find out. Personally, Snickers also wins out over other candy bars because they’re named after a horse. A real, live horse, which I always wanted, but never got.
           As I got older—drinking age or almost—I enjoyed my Snickers with a Budweiser. (I’ve progressed to cheesecake and a porter, one brewed with chocolate preferably.) But the Snickers will always be my favorite candy bar. And Halloween reminds me that I need one now.
           If I could go back in time and experience those Halloweens again, the only thing I’d change would be going door to door on a horse, no matter what it was named.
P.S. On August 19 of this year, a knife-wielding man from Clearwater, Florida, tried to steal a Snickers from a convenience store. He’s quoted as saying, “Don’t make me do anything stupid for a Snickers.” I’m just saying.