Old Time Halloween in the Neighborhood

Many treasures of Americana have been lost forever. I believe that one of those treasures was the Old Time Halloween in the Neighborhood. This has come to pass for two reasons: a more open practice of evil by some individuals and the interference of government.

When I grew up on the hill above Dunbar, West Virginia, Halloween was a wonderful time and event that made good memories. No one thought of doing evil to children, Halloween commercialism was in its infancy, and it was an event that the whole community took part in.

It was an event for all ages. Trick or treating was not regulated to little children. Teenagers in our community had as much clean and responsible fun as the little ones. Grandma and grandpaw looked forward to have the children come around. It was a gala affair in which the people of the neighborhood were entertained and not terrorized.

One could expect to have his car windows soaped. And, the very worst thing that usually happened was that someone's toilet was tipped over. And, often, those who tipped over the toilet came back the next day to set it back up. We didn't set fires in the streets or set ablaze old cars. We didn't cut trees down across the roads as they do today.

To day we are warned to not eat anything that appears to have been tampered with. Then, most of the goodies had been homemade. Everyone looked forward to mom's popcorn balls or homemade sugar cookies.

When my oldest sister Betty was still home, she, my sister Midge, and I would dress up. Just after it got dark, we would leave the house and head for the Neighborhood. We never left the neighborhood to go down town to take advantage of people we did not know. Our first stop was at Virgie Wolfe's where we got homemade cookies. Then we stopped at the Morrisons where we got candy and old man Charlie "Paw" Morrison would drop a dime in each of our bags. You could by something with a dime then. From there we would work our way around the hill and then head back the other way. Passing our own drive, se would stop at the Barretts and the Wilsons. Around the curve we would stop at Robert Barretts who was a brother to Red Barretts where we had just stopped. The we went to the Stumps, two Hudson brother's homes, and then the last stop. We stopped at Mr. Tom Hudson's house. He was a Sunday School teacher and Sunday School Superintendent at our church and was a fine man. He worked at the same factory where my dad worked.

From there we went back home and looked at our loot. It is amazing at the good things we gathered from those few houses. We gathered, and left to ill will in exchange. It has to be an indictment against America that we can no longer have these wholesome occasions but spawn evil that incites our do-gooders power brokers to over protect us. Are we too far wrong in laying the blame at our propensity to let our children do as they please at the loss of the parental guidance that they deserve?

For what ever the reason of our loss, America has lost a great treasure when we no longer can innocently observe a wonderful tradition.