Strange what memories stay with you. A vivid one I remember is a Halloween night that was mixed with strong emotions and a lesson learned. It happened on the last night of October in Victoria British Columbia when I was seven years old. The late fall evening was warm, even by west coast standards. A gentle breeze rustled the fallen leaves on the ground . The moon shone brightly, casting an eerie glow over the streets as I prepared for my annual trick-or-treating adventure.
My mother, Marjorie, was what would now be called “old school”. Mom thought I was too young to go “Haloweening” on my own. So she enlisted two older neighbour kids, Bobby and Cindy, to accompany me. In the early evening the three of us eagerly donned our costumes and set out, anxious for the night ahead.
Cindy was dressed as a friendly witch with the requisite pointed black hat and a straw broom she ended up abandoning shortly after we started out. Bobby was fitted out as a fierce pirate with an ominous looking black patch over his left eye. And I was a fairy princess , resplendent in pink chiffon , a starched crinoline itching my thighs. Our treat bags were empty and we were keen to fill them with yummy goodies.
As we ventured from house to house, we were greeted with smiles and encouraging voices. The neighbors had gone all out, decorating their homes with spooky ghosts, carved pumpkins, and cobwebs. The air was filled with the scent of decomposing leaves and the sound of children’s laughter.
After hours of collecting treats, our bags were overflowing with candy. We were thrilled with our successful collection of booty and decided it was time to head home. Little did we know, our Halloween night was about to take an unexpected turn.
As we made our way down a dimly lit street, we encountered three teenage boys lurking in the shadows. The boys, mischievous and up to no good, approached us with sly grins on their faces. “Hey, kids,” one of the boys said, “let us just feel how heavy your bags are. We won’t take anything, we promise.”
Innocently, Bobby and Cindy handed over their bags to the boys. I was much less trusting and I had a gut feeling that something was not right. I clutched my bag tightly, refusing to give it up. Sensing my resistance, the boys quickly ran off into the night with my friends’ Halloween bags, laughing heartily as they went.
Cindy and Bobby were left stunned and disappointed, their once-filled treat bags now gone. Tears welled up in their eyes as they realized their hard-earned candy had been stolen. Although somewhat saddened by the turn of events, I felt a sense of relief that I had trusted my instincts. And I really wondered about my older friends’ lack of ability to assess a dangerous situation. Some might call my reaction hard hearted. I just thought I was smart!
The three of us made our way back home. Bobby and Cindy’s spirits were dampened by the unfortunate incident. My mother, waiting anxiously for our return, noticed the kids’ downcast expressions and immediately sensed that something was wrong. As we recounted the story, Mom listened attentively, her face filled with concern.
My mother was a devout Catholic and it seemed she believed that although Halloween had no real religious significance, it could be seen as a time for promoting sharing and kindness. She decided this was an opportunity to teach me a valuable lesson. Mom sat us all down on the burgundy chenille couch in our living room. Bobby and Cindy sat there looking dejected, staring at their feet. Mom said how terrible it was to have the two kids’ lose their treats to “bad boys”. To my dismay, she came up with an idea to help assuage the kid’s disappointment. She instructed me to share my treats with Cindy and Bobby.
My first reaction was to soundly protest Mom’s directive. I definitely hesitated, feeling a sense of inequity at being forced to share my haul. I thought it an injustice to be compelled to split my loot with two who were, to me, too trusting, certainly naive and plain stupid. However, as I stared into my friends’ eyes, it was hard to miss the disappointment and sadness they displayed.
Reluctantly, I began to divide my candy among the three of us. As I did so, I noticed the smiles slowly returning to Bobby and Cindy’s faces. I realized that even though my friends’ sacks had been stolen and I had to forfeit two thirds of my candy, my mother’s dictum made me feel that I was doing something good.
In that moment, I began to learn the importance of compassion and empathy. The notion that material possessions could be replaced, but that friendship and the act of sharing are far more valuable started to dawn on me.
Happy Halloween to everyone! May your night be filled with treats, laughter and valuable lessons that warm your heart. But a word of caution. Trust your instincts. And hang on tight to your treats!!
