JC Penney was the big winner when it came to my Halloween.
Like clockwork — from the youngest time I remember going trick or treating to 11 when I made my last sweep of our neighborhood in search of candy that I would not otherwise eat — I went as a ghost.
And sometimes that ghost was a little more than just a bit off white.
I always got the oldest bedsheet in the house.
That meant someone was getting a new set of sheets.
How I got stuck on being a ghost and didn’t dabble with such things as being a pirate was quite simple: I was a little bit too big for most of the cheesy costumes sold at the 5 and 10 stores or Woolworth’s.
They were about the only places you could buy them. There was no Costco stores selling them starting on July 5 nor pop up Halloween Spirit stores with wall-to-wall costumes.
If you have no idea what a 5 and 10 store is or a Woolworth’s just put on your Bruno Mars costume you ordered from Amazon.com and go to your rave party in SoMo assuming, that is, south of Market Street in San Francisco is still trendy.
The great thing about old bed sheets is they are truly one size fit all.
That said it was still a bit of a challenge to get the eyes cut in the right place and not trip as I made my way down the sidewalk carrying an old pillow case.
You don’t see many ghosts today.
That’s probably a good thing as the politically correct police might get the wrong idea.
If you think wearing a bed sheet sounds like an Appalachian Halloween keep in mind that Halloween hasn’t always been a $9 billion spending extravaganza.
Back in the 1960s — the Stone Age when pick-up trucks were under $2,000 and cost less than a car — there were no Halloween Spirit stores. About the only place selling ready-made costumes were 5 and 10 stores.
Your parents would take one — maybe two photos — of you in costume if that.
There are more photos and videos today of a single kid’s Halloween experience than was taken during all of World War II.
The costumes were pretty basic — cowboys, pirates, Indians, princesses, and such.
Occasionally someone with a mother or a grandmother into sewing would produce Raggedy Ann costumes or bear costumes that took a lot of imagination to realize their full potential.
And here’s the real shocker — it was safe to go trick or treating even in the dark.
The body count for poisoned kids, apples with razors, kidnapped children and such were surprisingly low as in essentially non-existent.
They are still non-existent except in imaginations running wild with fear stoked by algorithms and good old-fashioned channelers of Chicken Littles running around with their heads cut off. (Hey, its Halloween so even Chicken Little’s act is a bit gorier.)
That may shock a lot of people given how we have a phobia about the dangers that lurk in the night now on Oct. 31.
The candy you got — for the most part — was cheap penny candy that you could buy a hundred pieces for a $1.
Don’t get me wrong.
There were mini-versions of popular candy bars like Three Musketeers. They were coveted and you knew which house was a must stop to get them.
And I don’t know whether it was the fact you ate way too much at one sitting, but the mini versions of candy bars like Three Musketeers and Snickers never seemed to taste as good as the ones you could buy for a nickel or the super-sized ones for a dime.
That’s right.
The same candy that costs $2.99 a pop for a large bar was only a dime 60 years ago. They were also made in the United States and had yet to do their incredible shrinking act.
Of course, having older brothers are always a bonus on occasions like Halloween.
It’s strange how older brothers that practically tripped over themselves hammering a 6-year-old that there is no such thing as Santa Claus practically hyperventilate convincing you there are vampires, witches, zombies, ghouls, and ghosts.
They also helped themselves at commandeering most of my candy.
That really didn’t bother me much because I usually ate the good ones long before I got home.
When you’re the youngest of three brothers you survive by using your wits as you can’t out run or out muscle them.
You might think I don’t like Halloween. Not true.
One of my most cherished memories was buying our granddaughter Ashley a Barney costume for her fourth Halloween.
To say she loved it would be a severe understatement.
Barney and Ashley were like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers — completely inseparable.
The only problem is she never wanted to take the costume off.
Nana and I compromised. Ashley could wear the Barney threads as pajamas.
The only problem, we discovered, was that she still wouldn’t part with them as sleeping attire when Easter rolled around.
I honestly don’t know how we ever finally got the Barney costume away from her. Twenty-six years later Barney’s biggest fan is now into zombies.
Come to think of it that makes sense.
For close to 10 months I suffered through a morning ritual thanks to my work hours that had me taking care of Ashley during which time she’d listen non-stop to a Barney video after breakfast.
There are only two songs that drive me nuts the second I hear them — Barney’s “I Love You” and “It’s a Small World” courtesy of Disney.
If you listen to either one over and over again you will turn into a zombie.
This column is the opinion of editor, Dennis Wyatt, and does not necessarily represent the opinions of The Bulletin or 209 Multimedia. He can be reached at dwyatt@mantecabulletin.com
