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At our old house, over a span of five years, we had exactly one trick-or-treater at Halloween. I can't even remember if we had candy for the poor kid. We might have sent him home with a jar of pickles.
So when we moved to a different neighborhood a few years ago, we bought a bag of candy from CVS, just in case, and sat down for a peaceful evening.
You know how, in a medieval war movie, just when the battle starts, they pull back the camera and you see a horde of warriors charging across the field?
It turns out that's our neighborhood on Halloween night.
The first time the doorbell rang, I opened the door and there were eight kids holding out pumpkin buckets. We were out of candy before the streetlights came on. My wife made three candy runs during the night, sneaking out like she was on a Special Ops mission. I turned the lights off and hid in the back with the dog. They banged on the door anyway. It was like we had been set upon by zombies. Must... eat... brains. Or... maybe... Reese's Cups.
Now, of course, we go to Costco the week before Halloween and buy a 55-gallon drum of candy (which at Costco costs $3.99). While we're talking about this, let's rank Halloween candy from best to worst:
1. Chocolate - mini-Snickers, M&Ms, etc.
2. Sugar bombs - Skittles, SweeTarts, Nerds.
3. Items made of gummi.
4. Candy corn.
5. Chewy caramel things designed by dentists to pull your fillings out (i.e., Sugar Daddies).
6. Second-string candy bars (Payday, Zagnuts).
7. Hard candy.
8. Bubble gum.
9. Apples.
10. Handfuls of leaves from the yard.
11. Circus peanuts.
We've figured out how to deal with candy on the supply side. On the demand side, it's different. Every year we struggle with giving candy to our... shall we say... older trick-or-treaters. Meaning, the ones old enough to drive their own cars.
We'll always have a few folks who come to the door without costumes - unless you call a full beard a costume - and hold out pillowcases for their treats. It's hard to tell if they want our candy or our silverware.
It doesn't make much sense to do an ID check in reverse, or give them a lecture, or do some sleight-of-hand where we pretend to put candy in the bag but not really. (You have to thump the bottom of the bag to sell the trick.) About the only thing you can do, if it really bothers you, is just say no.
I've decided not to let it bother me.
Setting aside the calories for a second, who doesn't need more candy in their lives? I don't know about you, but there have been many times when I've come to someone's door, undeserving, and have still been offered the sweetness of the world.
I've come to believe that there are two ways of looking at any program of giving. You can try to make sure nobody rips off the system, even if it means a few people suffer. Or you can try to make sure nobody suffers, even if it means a few people rip off the system.
Halloween is the second-best night to be a kid. (The first is Christmas Eve.) If some older kids want to work the system, they won't get as much as the little ones, at least not at our house. But you never know what's going on in someone else's life, what else they bring to your doorstep besides an empty bag.
Having said all that, if you show up with gray hair and a cane, circus peanuts for you.
