Tales From Exit 22 by Al Batt

We soaped a few windows.

My buddies and I needed to be mischief-makers. It was Halloween. Tradition was afoot.

Some businesses paid to have their windows cleaned. We did part of the job for nothing.

Our hijinks were as innocent as irritations could be.

The next day, we gathered at Tony’s, a gas station on the edge of handsome New Richland.

This was a place where we met to tell our stories. We talked of our dreams, such as inventing a cream that would eliminate shaving. When rubbed on a face, it would cause the whiskers to grow inward so all that a man had to do was to bite them off. We checked in before going on dates or getting on a team bus for a ballgame.

We were swapping lies when the local policeman came in. I could tell by his scowl that he wasn’t that happy to see us, but we were part of his job. We tried to look innocent, but our halos were tilted.

Dirty Harry Callahan, played by Clint Eastwood, would have said, “You’ve got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”

The local officer, a good man, wasn’t played by Clint Eastwood. He said something else.

“Boys,” he said, making it sound like a bad word, “I need to ask you some questions.”

“Shoot,” said one of us, a poor choice of words.

You could tell the constable was tempted, but he knew there were laws against such things. He said, “Some windows in town were soaped last night. Where were you between 9 and 11?”

I had an alibi and quickly shared it. “I was in the third grade.”

There were so many Jack-o-lanterns that everyone had the feeling they were being watched. Inspired by the TV show “Wild Kingdom,” I carved a jackal lantern.

Halloween is when cobwebs become decorations and store Santas have pumpkin heads. Thanksgiving gets a short shrift.

In the movie “Wall Street,” a ruthless man named Gordon Gekko said this, “The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed — for lack of a better word — is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms — greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge — has marked the upward surge of mankind.”

He didn’t mention Halloween, but he could have been giving a pep talk to trick-or-treaters.

A case in point. One year, a couple in town wasn’t going to be home on Halloween. Not wanting to be tricked, they opted for the honor system. They placed a bowl filled with candy and a sign reading, “Please take only one. Happy Halloween” on a table on their porch.

The first kids to the door not only took the candy, they took the bowl and the table.

Halloween is an incentive-based holiday that continues until people stop answering their doors. Halloween teaches us that we shouldn’t take candy from strangers unless we are dressed as a superhero. It encourages promptness. We have to go early or all of the good candy will be gone.

We were scary enough just being ourselves, but our mothers made some renovations. A typical Halloween getup consisted of a cheap mask that made breathing difficult and was held in place by a rubber band that eventually snapped and stung the wearer’s ear.

We wanted simple costumes because we didn’t have time to explain them. We needed to get candy. A trick-or-treater never knew what he might get. Bouillon cubes, wormy apples, seaweed biscuits or tubes of toothpaste. One year, a fellow tossed a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes into my bag. One family gave out celery sticks. Their house needed painting anyway.

Trick-or-treating can be terrifying or troubling. There was a trick-or-treater who said, “Merry Christmas.” Another whimpered, “I don’t believe in ghosts and I hope they leave me alone.”

Don’t let the trick-or-treaters drive you crazy. No need for them to drive you. The short walk would do you good.

There is a reason that elections occur near Halloween. Election ads are frightening. Attack ads brutalize all. You might encounter unpleasant kids dressed as political candidates. Give them some Metamucil wafers. They will thank you one day.

Last year, I dressed as a deer. That was frightening to drivers, but not to hunters. Men wearing orange scared me.

This year, I’ll put a sheet over my head and go as an unmade bed.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.