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David Spates In search of the coveted chocolate houses As a kid, I knew which houses I HAD to hit.
They had reputations, and my friends and I had long memories.
It was Halloween, after all, and there was no tomorrow. We had
one night to get it right. I spent plenty of Halloweens trick-or-treating
in my neighborhood, and I was quick to pick up on which houses
gave out the really good candy and which houses didn't. I clearly
remember developing a plan of attack days and days before Oct.
31. Every successful campaign starts with proper planning, and
trick-or-treating in Gulfwood subdivision in the late 1970s was
no different. Plan well, and you come home with the goods. Plan
poorly, and you're stuck with raisins, pencils and a sack full
of Smarties. There's nothing wrong Smarties, in small doses,
but Smarties weren't what I was looking for on All Hallow's Eve.
I wanted chocolate. Smarties are what adults give when the chocolate's
gone. They're cheap, they're somewhat tasty, and they're loaded
with sugar, but they're not chocolate. And when the Smarties
supply is expended, you're left with those awful peanut butter
kisses wrapped in orange and black wax paper, which are good
for one thing and one thing only -- baby teeth removal. If your
kid has a tooth loose, slip him some peanut butter kisses. The
Tooth Fairy will be visiting soon. Chocolate stood atop the Halloween candy hierarchy.
That includes your Snickers, Crunch, Baby Ruth, Milky Way, Reese's
Peanut Butter Cups, etc. If you want to be known as a good trick-or-treating
house, hand out lots of chocolate. It's a little more expensive,
but it will keep your house from getting rolled with toilet paper. As a kid, I knew exactly where to hunt down
the chocolate. A 7-year-old doesn't forget who gives him a Milky
Way. You don't forget things like that -- ever. I'm 31 years
old, and I can drive through my old neighborhood today and point
out the good trick-or-treating houses and the dud houses. I'm
sure a lot of the houses have new owners by now, so maybe some
of the dud houses have elevated themselves to "primary target"
status. Conversely, I suspect some of the best houses of the
1970s have lowered themselves to the depths of handing out raisins.
To this day I don't understand how anyone decides to give raisins
to trick-or-treaters. You might as well toss a kid a rock and
slam the door in her little tear-stained face. Raisins? On Halloween?
Come on! Be a sport! Spring for some Bottle Caps at least. Second on my candy hierarchy was anything
fruity and chewy, like Dots, Skittles, jelly beans, Gummi whatevers,
licorice (the red ones, not the black ones -- barf), Jujy Fruits,
Jujubees and those weird little Swedish Fish, which made me feel
like I was getting some prime imported candy from the Scandinavian
countryside. By the way, if you want to give your dentist
a thrill and have nothing to do for the rest of your afternoon,
scarf down a handful of Jujubees while reading the 1997 issue
of People in his waiting room. It'll keep him busy for
hours. Jujubees adhere to teeth like no other candy I know. It's
truly remarkable candy technology. Third on my list of confectionery priorities
was anything that would have been great if it were larger, but
instead some candy-maker decided to make teeny, i.e. M&Ms,
Reese's Pieces and those microscopic cinnamon disks called Cinnamon
Imperials. I know a lot of people love M&Ms and Reese's Pieces,
but to me they're simply good candy that was shrunk down to an
unsatisfying size. In my candy world, size matters. What's with
Cinnamon Imperials anyway? Who decided that any candy should
ever be that small? When I want candy, I want candy in which
I can leave a nice bite mark. Cinnamon Imperials spill out all
over the place like BBs. The fourth rung on my sugary ladder included
the candies I would try to trade away to a trick-or-treating
colleague. Anything with coconut, regardless of how much chocolate
it was dipped in, rarely made it home with me. I was also quick
to pass off Zagnuts, Candy Buttons, those disgusting red peanut
atrocities (I think they're called French Burnt Peanuts) and
bubble gum, which in my mind was not worth the walk up the driveway.
I'd happily trade 30 pieces of Dubble Bubble for one fun-size
Mars bar. I never liked the waxy candy, either. I didn't
know what to do with it. Was I supposed to eat it or stick a
wick in the middle of it? Please don't confuse me. I'm only 7. And then there were the houses that didn't
give out candy at all -- the health nuts who were worried about
my cavities. Hey, just fork over the Twix and let me worry about
my own choppers. But no, some people had to slip in an apple
or the aforementioned raisins. If I wanted fruit, do you think
I'd be standing at your door in a flammable plastic costume and
matching mask which at this very moment is cutting off my supply
of oxygen? I think not. And as if fruit weren't bad enough, there
were some people who handed out inedibles! I remember getting
a ruler one year. I got a pencil, too. There was one homeowner
who handed out small pieces of paper with a biblical quote on
one side and an invitation to attend the guy's church on the
other. Needless to say, I didn't waste my valuable and limited
trick-or-treating time on those houses ever again. The best house in Gulfwood for trick-or-treating
was Mrs. Smith's place, and I kick myself for not discovering
that gold mine until nearly the end of my career. For whatever
reason, Mrs. Smith had the reputation of being one of those mean
old ladies who didn't like children. It was probably an unwarranted
distinction, but children feared her nevertheless. I always skipped
her house, for fear that she'd give me an apple with a razor
blade stuck in it (the urban legend that everyone believed to
be true). When I was 11 or so, my buddies and I decided
to give her house a shot. To our utter amazement, Mrs. Smith
was handing out giant-size Snickers bars. They weren't the dinky
fun-size bars that today sell for $3.99 for a bag of 30. I'm
talking about the BIG bars that today sell for $1.29 each. I
still can't get over it. It was a remarkable discovery, and one
we enjoyed for only one or two more Halloweens. That's a good lesson for you trick-or-treaters out there. Have a plan, but don't be afraid to take a chance from time to time. Sometimes they pay off handsomely. Sometimes they pay off with giant chocolate bars. · · · |