The Great Big Boo

As the first pumpkins and fall decorations appeared on doorsteps it got me thinking about Halloween.

Without the past the present and future are not alive. If the past is an image; over time it changes from a sharp focus to one aged and faded, taking on a soft glow and somewhat blurred. There is a certain element of nostalgia and revisiting a warm memory of the past. But probing a little deeper, I think Halloween is far more important.

On the surface Halloween as crass commercialism, as sales of "stuff" competes with those of Christmas in dollars spent. Decorating the house for Oct 31 is now as important for many families as is the holiday season. Another dimension centres around the collecting of candy and the calls by all sorts of groups about road safety, too many calories and dental care.

My memories remain deep and clear. In the 1960s there were very few costume choices. In fact beyond the sheet over your head with cut outs for eyes, almost every one I put together, or were used by my friends, would now be seen a politically and culturally insensitive and incorrect.

But, with so few choices and little money you had to be inventive and creative. There was no Party City, Amazon or Halloween Mega Pop Up store. You had one choice; Pop Allan's or the closet at home. In part, you wanted to be different than your friends, you might want to surprise a neighbour or take on a character you saw on television. As you got older and your trick or treating days were running out of time (Grade 8); you adopted costumes that were built more for speed and freedom of movement. That wooden 6 quart basket you took time to find and decorate was tossed aside for a pillow case that could hold, not handfuls of candy, but pounds of loot. You needed to travel further afield to get to more houses, hook up with friends and get farther away from watchful parents and neighbours. Pranks and mischief took on equal importance with that of the collection of candy.

In a very odd way, Halloween taught you about organizational skills, efficient route planning, negotiation and deployment of resources.

In the weeks leading up to that magical night, in addition to costume selection, was the selection of the friend or group of friends you would share the night's adventures. With that task in hand, work began on where to meet, start time and the neighbourhoods/streets which were the best targets. Intelligence was gathered from past years; houses which could be counted upon to give the most candy. Popcorn balls and candy apples were prized booty. At the same time, there were homes to be avoided, out of the way (lost time) or who gave out fruit or other homemade "treats". The worst, a can of off brand pop. You always had your "ear to the ground" for classmate or younger student talking about their family's offering for the night.

One of the great legends, if you lived on the west side of the Bronte Creek was the rumour of the silver dollar. The Duke family, by far were one of the most wealthy families in Bronte, owning Duke Lawn Equipment. They had a large estate on Lake Ontario, west of Cudmore Road. Early on Halloween night you would pick up supposed intel that they were giving out silver dollars. Back in the day, this was not only a lot of money, but a silver dollar was a rare gift or find.

The challenge for the kids back then, was whether to take the risk of the long walk to the Duke Estate, as there were few if any other houses to knock on doors, or miss out on this prize. Once at the Duke home, it was a long walk back to the neighbourhoods where the bulk of trick or treating took place. If you had a curfew of 9pm and started after dinner, you had a limited amount of time which would be eaten up by this detour in the night's planned route.

On the one or two occasions we rolled the dice, there was no silver dollar to be had. Little did we know that frustrated effort would become one of the memories of Halloween past.

It is interesting, how your street and neighbourhood as darkness descended. There was a quiet calm, whispered voices and the smells of cool, damp night air and burning leaves. The breeze in the trees moved the branches and street lights added to the spooky shadows of the night.

The atmosphere and the stage was set.

One of the more unique challenges was to cross over and through the cemetery at the foot of West Street. The giant oaks would be blowing in the wind casting eerie shadows, while the crunch of dried leaves could be heard underfoot. Going through your mind were the stories of exposed craves and coffins as a result of a storm that ravaged the bluffs on which the cemetery sat. Suddenly there would be a dog bark or you would step on a fallen branch with a loud crack. You would pick up the pace, moving to a run, while holding on to your booty at the same time dodging the grave stones. As you reach the other side, you stopped, looked over your shoulder maybe there was a ghost or just your mind; but at 10 or 12, the imagination could be vivid.

As you met up with friends, there were not just stories of goodies collected but of the pranks, soaping of windows, knocking over pumpkins, making ghost sounds.

A few of the more legendary stories took the evening pranks to a whole new level. Back in the 50s a group of Bronte Boys moved an outhouse from Beach to the corner of Bronte Road and Lakeshore (Pop Allans). One very cold and rainy Halloween, some of the westside boys painted the west bound arches of the Bronte bridge with the words, BRONTE A GO GO. Another tale concerns an attempt with a spray paint can, alter all the 30 mph signs to 80 mph.

As you made your way home, tired, wet feet, costume in ruin there was this warm glow of being out with friends enjoying the adventure of the evening and out of the watchful eye of parents. A sense of freedom.

The next morning, those same streets which were mysterious, exciting and a little bit scary seem very ordinary and familiar.

In a few weeks the kids will be back out. Young ones first and the teens later having roamed further afield, staying out later and hoping to clean up from the homeowner who just wants to get rid of all the candy. There will be the odd bit of mischief, there will be kids hanging out in Bronte, a little loud and acting out. But that has been the scene for decades.

Hopefully, beyond the trick or treating, it will be the night of stories that will re-emerge years from now.