Conrad Boyce is the editor and publisher of the Cosmos. He has a BA in English from the University of Alberta and a diploma in journalism from Grant Macewan Community College in Edmonton. He lived and worked in the Yukon and Vancouver Island before arriving in Ontario in 1995. Beyond these pages, he is the Artistic Director of OnStage Uxbridge, and the technical manager of the Uxbridge Music Hall.
Hallowe'en Apples
When my wife and I emigrated to Reach Street in 2004, we never anticipated that one of the negative impacts would be a precipitous decline in the number of trick-or-treaters coming around on All-Hallows Eve. We’d only been there a few weeks when the first Oct. 31 arrived, and perhaps a dozen candy-seekers showed up the whole evening, leaving us with a major sugar surplus to deal with over the next couple of days.
Certain that 2004 was an anomaly, perhaps caused by the particular phase of the moon that night, we stocked up on treats again in 2005. But even fewer costumed raiders darkened our doorway than the year before, and despite our determination to be prepared for an onslaught each time, the downward trend has continued, to the point that this past Monday, exactly two children came a-knocking, the little boys from next door, and we’re pretty sure they only came because they thought our grandsons might be visiting. Despite having a huge bowl of mini chocolate bars in the foyer, we only gave them three each, just in case scores more little boys were coming in their wake. But we might just as well have poured the entire bowl into the little plastic pumpkins they were carrying, for no one else arrived to claim what was left. We were disappointed, but hardly surprised. For whatever reason, perhaps because few of our neighbours have small children, Reach Street just isn’t a target on Hallowe’en. Everyone seems to be over at Barton Farms. If they only suspected what a score they would make at our house.
Talking to residents of other streets, however, the decline in the number of costumed canvassers seems to be pretty general. I was listening to a radio talk show last week, in fact, when the host quoted Stats Canada as saying that this year in Canada, the total number of kids aged 5 to 14 (presumably the group most likely to go trick-or-treating) is at its lowest level since 1983. But it’s not just the raw numbers, I suspect. In these days when we’re starting to get a little paranoid about the intentions of other adults, sending our kids out deliberately knocking on the doors of strangers is something we’re a bit leery of.
Things were a whole lot more carefree when I was growing up in Edmonton, back in the days before people put needles in apples. Just about anything was game for the pillow case back then: fresh fruit, rice krispie squares, cookies. Now, unless it’s tightly packaged, it never gets past being dumped on the living room floor. And I seem to remember hordes of kids being on the streets back then, even if it was snowing or below zero. We’d just wear our costumes over our snow suits, and they were easy to adjust because our moms made them, we didn’t just grab them off the rack at WalMart. We didn’t even know what a WalMart was. And no matter how cold it was, we didn’t want to come home, Hallowe’en was the most fun we had all year. We’d fill up the pillow case once, dump it, then go back out and fill it again.
There was another big difference when I was a kid, too. These days, the kids just ring the bell or knock on the door, stand there silently as you dole out the treats, and if you’re lucky, you get a muffled “thank you” as they head down your sidewalk back out to the street. No discussion of costumes, no noisily comparing what goodies each one has, certainly no calling out of “Trick or Treat” to announce their arrival.
We didn’t call it out in Edmonton in my youth, either, but that’s because we had our own peculiar custom that I’ve never encountered anywhere else, and any Edmontonian reading this will instantly know what I mean by reading the title above the column. At least an Edmontonian of my vintage, because I have no idea whether the custom is still being carried on today.
When we stomped up on someone’s front porch back then, we would all sing out together: “Hallowe’en Apples”, and you could hear other kids singing out a similar chorus all the way down the street. The melody of the song was very rigid, all syllables on the same note except the first syllable of “apples”, which was a full step below, and the last syllable of each word was exaggerated, so that it came out something like “Halloweeeeen Appuuuuls”. A strange thing, but our own.
I have no idea where our Hallowe’en song originated, I’d be curious to know whether any readers have encountered it anywhere else. For all I know, it may have been sung all over the prairies. Conversely, it may have been unique to South Edmonton (I never lived on the North Side), not even being used in Red Deer or Calgary or Peace River.
All I know is that our song gave me some special Hallowe’en memories, just another great thing about growing up in that great town on the North Sakatchewan.
