By Eleanor Kazdan, October 29, 2020 — Growing up in the ’50s in an uptown neighborhood of Toronto, Halloween was something we looked forward to all year long. With the help of our mothers, we fashioned costumes of witches, cowboys, and pirates. One year, my mother dyed a sheep black and sewed a costume that looked like a rendition of a traditional Chinese outfit. In those days, we had never heard of the word “appropriation.” We went out trick-or-treating with our friends starting at age five. Our parents would never have thought of going with us.
As soon as dusk fell, bags and pillowcases in hand, we paced the neighborhood, knocking at the doors, and chanting, “Shell out, shell out or I’ll knock your windows inside out.” I think that’s a British expression, you know a thing that they do in England because I’ve never heard that here. Here, people say, “trick or treat,” right? But anyway, the treats were mostly homemade: candy apples covered in melted caramel kisses, chocolate cookies, slices of cake wrapped in plastic. My mother insisted on giving out raisins in wax paper instead of candy, which was a bit of an embarrassment. Word quickly spread amongst the neighborhood kids about which house had the best treats. Mrs. Murphy across the street from my house was usually at the top of the list. She came to the door, greeting us in her lilting Irish brogue, and filling our bags with caramel, chocolate, and candy apples.
When the night was over, I went home, where my mother would immediately throw out all of the caramel kisses, as they were bad for our teeth. Ironically, my teeth were always worse than all of my friends who ate all the candy that my mother wouldn’t allow us.
The Halloween tradition continued for me in the ’80s and ’90s with my own children. Costumes were largely still homemade although there some occasional commercial costumes to be found. We lived in a suburban neighborhood where parents went out with their children. I always got dressed up as well, usually as a witch with a long blonde wig, a black pointy hat, and green makeup. There had been some well-publicized incidents of razor blades being found baked into some homemade treats, so suddenly, we were not supposed to hand out anything but commercial goods. The kids came home loaded with little chocolate bars. My plans for how to manage their eating of so much candy changed from year to year. Some years, they were allowed to eat a few treats every night. Then, hearing the wisdom of other parents who got tired of the whining of children trying to eat more than allotted, they were permitted to stuff themselves until the candy was gone. Unbeknownst to them, I had raided the bags of all the Mounds and Almond Joys and stocked them away for myself. I was utterly heartbroken when one year, my kids told me they didn’t want me to go out with them anymore. So I dressed up anyway to greet the trick-or-treaters at the door.
Now it’s onto the grandkids. They buy their costumes at huge Halloween stores. Growing up in the city, trick-or-treating seems to be out. It’s not considered safe. Kids are more likely to have parties or go to local stores, where the proprietors give out treats. In their West Philly neighborhood, there was a great tradition of a Halloween parade which started on Baltimore Avenue and ended up at 42nd and Osage, where for 30 years, the residents had blocked out the street and set up tables with an incredible array of sweets. Neighbors dressed up in fantastic costumes sat in front of their decorated houses and handed out treats as well. One year, when our first grandson was three, he disappeared in the crowd. Everyone in the family apparently thought someone else was watching him. This led to the most panicked and terrifying five minutes of our lives until a man responded to my daughter-in-law’s cries and said he had seen a child alone. Soleil was found. This year, I don’t know. They have moved to a new South Philly neighborhood — a small treat that has its own traditions. I’m planning to dress up with a sparkly black Batgirl mask, join the princess and the pirate, and see what the evening brings.
