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Dime candy and a small-town Halloween |
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October 27, 2016 |
By Mike Ashby
 Probably
the most enjoyed season for us kids was
Halloween. The days had grown shorter, so you
could start getting prepped for the evening
early, say around 2 p.m. Since this was a small
town, we were, for the most part, allowed to go
out trick or treating by ourselves.
Big mistake.
Going out the door with a large paper sack, or
pillow case, lots of warm clothes on, and a
rubber mask, your evening would begin. Those
rubber masks were probably designed by the
adults to shorten our evenings.
The eye holes were never aligned, the things
simply would not stay put on your head, and
worse, drool would accumulate in the chin part
of the mask. Trying to eat a frozen tootsie roll
with that mask on would result in your speech
being severely affected. Instead of saying Trick
or Treat, it would come out as ‘Ick or Reat,’
with a splash of chocolaty drool landing on your
shoe.
Getting together with other members of your
posse, you canvassed the streets for the “dime”
candy bars. A dime candy bar, in the 50s, was a
really BIG candy bar. Those folks who gave away
a dime candy bar would be the first, second, and
last, on your list to trick or treat.
If all went well, you could snag at least two
and sometimes three of those bars without the
folks giving them away getting wise to you.
Aw well, adults always seemed to be one step
ahead of a kid. It wasn’t long before the wiser
of the adults made us sign a register.
“We just like to see who has been to our house
trick or treating this evening.”
Ya Shore, lady.
That was handled by us youth by simply signing
someone else’s name the second and third time.
That idea came to an abrupt halt when they made
us take our mask off, so they could “see your
smiling face.” What remained for us then was to
interrogate smaller kids walking around, find
out if they had gotten dime candy bar somewhere
else.
Lots of energy would then be spent running to
those newly found homes with the big candy bars.
The evening would eventually come to an end,
with all of us kids making our way home.
In later years, I would learn I wasn’t the only
kid who hid a good deal of his candy somewhere
outside so the folks would not eat it all. Of
course that plan had its drawbacks too.
The inevitable question would be “You’ve been
gone trick or treating five hours and that’s all
you got?” That query required some fancy
footwork to avoid.
For me, reaching a gangling 6’ height at the age
of 11 or 12 kinda ended the evenings of dime
candy bars. The adults would stare pretty hard
at you when you towered over them.
But the memories of a rubber mask sticking to
your face, trying very hard not to trip and
spill your sack and getting dime candy bars are
all part of a growing up in a small town. |
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