Halloween was once my favorite holiday, and in my hometown, I knew where the best things were to find. Miss Harrison, an elementary teacher, made homemade rice balls every year. And a couple of people actually gave complete candy bars.Then grandchildren arrived on the scene, and I began enjoying it all over again, although it was more fun when you could dress them in costumes of frogs, panda bears, and bumble bees. But no child likes things like that once they reach the age of three.
But the real reason for my loving the weird holiday was that my parents always hid the Halloween candy in the large broom closet, and in the same spot each year. They always bought tiny Butterfinger and Babe Ruth candy bars, and at that time, they were a complete miniature version of the larger one. They were about three inches in length, and were about the same diameter as the little orange fingers you can still buy in stores, that by the way, is still something I try not to see when I go grocery shopping. The little bars my parents always stocked were incredible, and because of their small size, they actually had more filling in both. I was extremely careful about how many I discovered, and I also made sure that I requisitioned them by a little handful every couple of days randomly. That way no one suspected a child of being that clever. I think my mom thought my dad was eating them, and I thought my day thought my mom did. Either way, they kept stocking up before Halloween. The infamous kid's day lasted at least a month, and at that time with a young child's energy, I never worried about the extra calories.
Karma is a strange mistress, because my own children played this same trick on me occasionally, both with eating hidden treats I brought home from Germany and things I would find at the German Deli in Salt Lake City. But the real hard punch in the face from karma was the "sweet tooth" I nurtured and developed as a child. Even now, I can sense German cheese cake at least two miles away.
