In 1981, we moved into our house in the Homestead Addition, just outside of Princeton, Iowa. It was a new neighborhood, but too far out of town to get any trick
or treaters.
So, when the boys were small, they'd put on their costumes and I'd
take them (and a bunch of candy bars) up to McCausland.
My Great-Aunt Glad was 80 years old and she'd get at least a hundred trick or
treaters at her house. She couldn't do the up and down to answer the doorbell -- so I'd hand out candy for her while my boys went trick or treating around town with their friends.
Here’s how it worked….
I'd take four or five bags of snack-size candy bars -- Snickers,
Kit-Kats -- the REAL stuff. I figured it was the price I had to pay for bringing my kids into town. Aunt Glad
would have one bag of little Dum-Dum suckers.
When the candy was gone, we’d turn out the lights.
Aunt Glad would position her recliner so that when I opened the front door, she
had a full view of the trick or treaters.
Here’s how the night went…
At first, Aunt Glad was interested in the kid’s costumes,
and she’d ask them to step into the living room so she could see them better.
If she knew the kids, she’d have a conversation with them. If
the parents were along, Aunt Glad liked to ask them questions. How long they’d lived in McCausland, who they're
related to, where they worked, how much money they made, etc.
But, after a short time, it became clear to her that some of
the trick or treaters were more deserving than others….and she’d start telling me who should get a real candy bar, and who should get a Dum-Dum sucker…
For example, there would be a group of four or five
kids standing on the stoop. When I opened the door….Aunt Glad would say to me, “look
at that big kid, honey. Ask him how old
he is.” I’d try to ignore her…and hand
out the candy…but she would be disturbed that the kid was too old or too tall to be trick
or treating…so she’d talk louder -- so the kids could hear…”HEY -- YOU -- THE
BIG ONE -- How old are you?” The more I
tried to hurry the kids along, the more agitated she would become. She would push herself out of the
recliner -- and, using her cane, point at the tall kid in question, yelling, “GIVE
HIM A DUM-DUM…HE’S TOO OLD TO BE TRICK OR TREATING!”
Also, some costumes annoyed her. If a kid walked up her steps with a sheet over his/her head, she'd say "that's not a costume -- he's
just begging for candy. If he can't do better than that, he should have
stayed home. Give him/her a Dum Dum..."
Another one of her favorite lines of questioning
(besides how old are you?) -- was ‘WHERE ARE YOU FROM?” She had a firm belief that McCausland was a destination
for cars full of non-resident trick-or-treaters who drove to her town to take
advantage of our snack sized candy bars (and her Dum Dum suckers).
There could be a group of adorable little kids
standing on the stoop, I’d be putting candy in their bags…when she’d start her inquisition…”
“You there -- (pointing with her cane) -- you -- wearing that sheet over your head -- where are you from?” I would
be PRAYING for the child to say “McCausland”…but even if he gave the right
answer, because of the crappy sheet...the ghost kids never rose to the Snack Size Snickers level...
If she didn't know their parents, or if she didn’t have a good opinion of their
family, she’d yell…”GIVE THAT KID A SUCKER, RITA…’
Oh, yeah, I miss those days -- and my little boys -- and Aunt Glad.
