Back When It Was Just Halloween

Before Salem was known as the Haunted Happenings Hub of the world, before homes were transformed into Haunted Houses in mid September, and before giant Halloween stores would open overnight to meet our increasing demand for everything spooky, October 31 was just Halloween.

When I was young, homemade costumes were for the "poor kids". The coolest costumes came in a box showcasing a plastic mask through the transparent cover. We would deliberate at the store for hours. I want to be a princess. No! I want to be a ballerina. No…wait! Maybe I should be a cat! Regardless of which costume we settled on, immediate buyer’s remorse would settle in when we saw our friend’s plastic face. I remember the feeling of envy when Debbie showed me her Cinderella mask, complete with molded blonde hair. Why, oh why, did I go with stupid Snow White?

Preparing for our big night, we would strap on our plastic masks with the eye and mouth holes that never lined up right on our small faces. If you wanted to see you couldn’t talk, and if you wanted to sneak a piece of candy through the mouth hole, you couldn’t see. I remember sweating beneath the mask stuck too tightly to my face, my hair knotted up in the taunt elastic band so badly it would have to be cut off at the end of the night. One year I tried to punch some breathing holes into the plastic nose with a pen, accidentally turning my mask into a "princess pig" sending me into a complete Halloween meltdown when I was told I couldn’t get a new one to replace the one I had ruined.

Heading out on for the big night, I held my pumpkin head flashlight tightly, walking gingerly because I couldn’t figure out how to get it to stop flashing, so it only lit up every other step. I would trip down the street in my much too long 100% flammable princess dress, testing the strength of the poorly sewn seams by forcing it over layers of clothing like a sausage casing, as I tried to stay warm without ruining my look.

"Look at the cute little pig… or are you a princess?" total strangers would coo as they opened their doors to hand out treats. The night would start out with nervous whispers of "trick or treat" followed by polite "thank yous" as we shyly reached for a single piece of candy. But as the night went on and we got into the spirit of things, solo kids would meet up with other kids, and we’d become trick or treat "clumps", shuffling from house to house looking for lit porches and open doors. Once we realized no one knew who we were behind our masks, mini mob mentality set in and all politeness was kicked to the curb. The sugar high acted like truth serum, and we’d scream "Yuck!" and "Gross!" if the candy selection didn’t meet our standards. Presented with top of the line treats, we’d scream "Awesome!" as we loaded up by the greedy handfuls, candy spilling all over the sidewalk in our wake. "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat…" we’d chant, hypnotized by the porch lights which beckoned to us with promises of Halloween heaven.

When I became too old for trick or treating, my little brother had just hit his peak. I was a big sister with over ten years of Halloween experience behind me and a driver’s license, on a mission to find the best trick or treat spot in Salem. I loaded Stephen and his Superman outfit into the car and headed to Chestnut Street where he proceeded to score full size candy bars and bags of chips. Forget standing out on the stoop in the cold…we’d be invited into their kitchens for homemade caramel apples, popcorn balls, and cookies fresh from the oven with a cold glass of milk. Occasionally his bag would become so heavy from a handful of change or a roll of pennies (Score!) that we would have to empty the stash into a bigger bag in the car before continuing on. That was the best Halloween ever, and I swear we snacked on our loot until it started to melt from the summer heat.

I’m afraid the innocence of those days is gone forever. It began to fade around the time we were warned to cut candy bars into small pieces to make sure no one had stuck razor blades in them, and not to accept any homemade items in case they were poisoned. The circle of homes you were allowed to visit got progressively smaller. First you were limited to just your neighborhood, then just your street, then just to homes you knew, and eventually you’d only visit relatives. School and home parties have replaced traditional trick or treating, which does not deter countless adults, who still remember how Halloween use to be, from stocking up on snack size candy bars and leaving the porch light on, just in case.

Its Not About the Candy

I dare you to walk by my office during a workday without stopping in at least once. It is not my sunny disposition or my gift for gab that attracts coworkers to my office. It’s my candy basket.

But this is not just any candy basket; it is THE candy basket. While I can’t always personally meet everyone’s needs, my candy dish usually can. Need a chocolate fix? Come on by…I have milk chocolate and dark chocolate, nuts and no nuts. Not a chocolate fan? I have bulls eyes and licorice to name just a few. Need a fix that won’t wreck your diet? Grab a mint patty. Off to a meeting? You need a lifesaver. Its no coincidence that I happen to have every type of candy or treat that everyone in our office likes. It has taken many years of careful listening on my part, and we are not just talking about the candy.

One by one they flitter in and out. "What a day, I need a chocolate fix!" John huffs as he searches for a dark chocolate nugget. "I just had a great sales call" Natalie exclaims as she celebrates with a Kit Kat. "I need something to help me survive the traffic…" Darren moans as he grabs some bubble gum for the road.

It all started almost 20 years ago when I was hired as a sales manager at the Boston Herald. The first day of any job is exciting but also stressful, both for myself as a new manager, and for the experienced staff worrying about the worst case scenario but hoping for the best. Thinking about how I could break the ice and make an easier transition for all of us, I stopped by work a week prior to starting and hung a sign on my door: "Your new boss likes candy". For the rest of that week I worried about lots of things, but mostly about that sign. Would they think I was silly? Would they think it was demeaning? Would they think I take bribes? Why did I use that stupid word BOSS?

About 5 minutes into day one at work, the first candy bar arrived. "Hi I’m Scott, and I know you like candy, so on behalf of the staff I’d like to present you with a chocolate bar". That was just the start. One by one they came by to say hello, and either gave me candy or talked about candy. But it wasn’t just about the candy. It never is.

In these days of remote communication and email, the candy basket invites human interaction. It’s an open invite to come in and talk about whatever is on your mind. Sometimes it’s obvious, such as the co-worker who will grab a cherry twizzler along with a seat, and bemoan the issues of the day. Sometimes its as subtle as a sigh quietly released as they pick through the basket ever so slowly, knowing if they stall long enough I’ll say "What’s up?" Then there’s the grab and go which really is just about the candy, and that’s fine too.

During the candy trips, my co-workers and I have learned much about each other that we would not have known otherwise; information that has allowed us all to be a bit more understanding of each other’s perspectives. Our lives unfold five minutes at a time as I learn about hardships and happiness, family and friends, fears and hopes. We talk about deaths and births, triumph and tragedies, the past and the future. Rarely do we talk directly about work, except for how it affects them and their state of mind. I have learned that, for many, the office and the relationships formed here are an important part of their lives. I’ve learned how grateful many are that their job here has allowed them to be flexible for child care, to go back to school, or to care for an ill family member. I’ve also learned in a non-threatening way what they are not happy about which gives us an opportunity to make changes or to explain why "it is what it is" to invite better understanding of the business reason behind an otherwise unpopular decision.

Despite the fact that I am the only original staff member from my early days, the snack tradition has survived almost two decades. But the selections have changed to mirror current office cravings, and now feature weekly specials such as "healthy treat" (dark chocolate with almonds), "low cal pick" (mint patty) and the "Publisher’s Favorite" (lifesaver).

The importance of the candy dish is most apparent during its absence, when it has to be locked away during my infrequent time off. Returning from a short Labor Day trip, I barely pull the candy basket out of its storage before I can see the shadow of someone behind me, waiting.
"It wasn’t the same without the candy basket!" John says as he shuffles through the selections with a smile on his face. "So, how was your weekend?" And I smile as well, because it’s not just about the candy. It never is.