In less sophisticated times, before television, before radio, people entertained themselves and each other by talking. Telling stories was a great way to spend the evening. Halloween was an ideal time to tell stories of ghosts, goblins and witches. Some stories were handed down from parent to child, some circulated among the children and some were made up on the spot. A great uncle could make hair stand up by telling of apparitions he had seen in the woods at night.

Spirits emerged in ghostly form from graveyards and roamed the countryside, no doubt looking for mischief. Witches left their cauldrons bubbling with brew, mounted their brooms and took to the sky in search of a missing ingredient, such as a boy’s ear. Goblins, who knows where they come from? And don’t forget that bearer of bad luck, the black cat. Such stories were thrilling for some and scary for the slightly superstitious. But there were adventurous unbelievers.

Mr. Grump lived in a neighborhood of families with children. Children annoyed him by just being there. He was ugly to them, especially boys. One Halloween two or three boys got together and plotted a strategy. They put a quantity of soft squishy stuff into a small paper bag. They made sure the man was home. They found a place in the neighborhood bushes out of his sight. When the time was right they stealthily took the bag to his porch, lit a match to the bag, knocked and rang the doorbell, and scrammed for cover. The man opening the door had no time to identify the boys. He was too busy stomping out the fire atop the squishy stuff, while the boys in the bushes almost gave themselves away laughing. This escapade did nothing to mellow Mr. Grump’s tone, but the boys seemed more tolerant of him.

A favorite prank of rural boys was to go around turning over their neighbor’s outhouses. A farmer named Frank who had two boys of his own got tired of the annual prank. One moonless Halloween he and his boys picked up their outhouse and moved it back down the path a few feet, exposing the pit. Frank and his family settled in for their usual evening routine. Soon after darkness enveloped the land, voices were heard outside in the direction of the outhouse. It sounded like moaning and a lot of cussing. Frank leaned back in his chair and smiled.

The result of a most ridiculous prank was seen by some college sophomores on their way to breakfast on All Saints Day. A farm wagon sat atop the freshman men’s dormitory. How did it get there? Obviously with a lot of work. It was probably hoisted there by some fraternity brothers. One may wonder at the stealth employed to escape the notice of C. P. Williams, the college guru of finance.

Such Halloween celebrations are rare these days, one may conclude. Some “smart” soul came up with the idea of teaching their children to be beggars. Thus was born the game of trick-or-treat. The game is misnamed. If the beggars are invited in and asked to do their tricks they just stand there with mouths agape. They don’t really know any tricks.

When the beggar era started Mom could just dress Junior from a closet and send him out to a friend’s house to say “boo”. Things have surely gotten out of hand. The world of commerce has taken over. Mom is now asked to buy a costume and a bag of candy for the kid. It even interferes with one’s Christmas shopping.

Ghost stories, anyone?