Great military leaders didn’t learn strategy and maneuvers at some high-level training camp. They obviously went trick-or-treating.
If, like me, they wanted to cover the most territory and get the biggest bang for their buck, they started planning early. As a child, I mapped my town weeks in advance, trying to determine who would be home at what hours, when best to hit the “good” houses and what to do with the ones who, basically, were Switzerland.
Plan the attack appropriately and there would be enough candy to live on for three months. Make one wrong move and insurgents (like dad) could spoil even the best-laid plans.
The goal, of course, was to nab those full-sized candy bars. Few people opted for them, particularly since those “bite-sized” ones were so readily available. But yes, my friend, those full-sized bars were there. Hiding in some bunker on a street you’d least suspect, they’d be dropped in the bag like missives from the underground.
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Sometimes, it took intel from another combat veteran (“Get to the blue house on the corner. The old man has Hershey bars”). Sometimes, it required a bit of undercover work (“If you sing her a song, the lady will pull out the good stuff”). Sometimes, it just required charm.
Rookies often made the mistake of asking for something “for my sick brother” but that never worked. A true brother-in-arms would have stayed with that ailing comrade and sent a sister out on the flanking maneuver. Mine was a true veteran, able to infiltrate the unsuspecting, report back and help me move in from the bunker.
Clearly, the Oct. 31 mission required a good grasp of where the land mines might exist.
An old woman, for example, could have pop corn balls – the worst – or an elaborate Halloween display she wanted you to see that would take precious time to navigate. Hit too many of these and you were bound to declare the mission a failure. (The secret: See who decorated too intensely and who was just waiting for “lights out.”)
Newer homes were always allies. They probably had Halloween troops of their own; they knew how to play the game: In, out and on to the next location.
Older homes took some study. Any rookie knows a dark house is a dead house. But sometimes there’s a faint light in a window that suggests it could be worth trying. A single man, you see, didn’t want to look unprepared. Instead of shooing you away, he dug in his pocket and came up with cold, hard cash. Score.
But an older home with a dentist was a real trap. Due to some ethical code (or an overabundance of freebies), he always felt an obligation to hand out toothbrushes. Luckily, I had a dentist who saw this as a way to spur business. He gave the gooiest, filling-unfriendly caramel bars around. And, in the world of trick-or-treating, that was a risk worth taking.
Other medical personnel weren’t as overt. They, too, got on some crazy health kick and thought apples and oranges (typical Christmas stocking stuff) were appropriate. Little did they know they made them a target for less honorable Halloween soldiers. (Egg on your window? It can easily be traced back to apples.)
In a four-hour period (and, yes, that’s how long trick-or-treating lasted before the Internet spread these nasty “shut your lights off at 8” rumors), it was possible to fill several bags with candy.
Cute “character” uniforms worked better than scary “guess who I am?” ones. Masks beat makeup; politeness trumped speed.
Once home, it became a matter of assessing the damage, assembling the loot and repaying those who aided in the mission. Dad took anything (it was candy, after all); sis got stickers and pencils; mom (who had snacked all night on the candy we gave out) didn’t care.
That left the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Snickers Bars, Hershey’s and M & M’s for me. Lined on my bed, it was a king’s ransom, ready to make a month or two of homework more palatable.
George S. Patton and Dwight Eisenhower, I figure, got similar booty when they were kids. But I’m sure they dressed as soldiers when they went out and, in the dog-eat-dog world of trick-or-treating, probably didn’t match my take.
When it comes to capturing candy, a cute little bear beats Rambo any day.
