GROWING UP, HALLOWEEN MEANT FREEDOM AND FOOLISHNESS. It meant wearing a costume, collecting candy, and eating too many treats. I walked the lettered streets of my subdivision with a small band of girls my age, our goal to knock on as many doors as we could. Back home, our biggest concern was separating the candy into categories, finding favorites.

Little else about my childhood trick-or-treating resembles the way it’s done these days. Now, parents guide youngsters from house to house, wait patiently on the sidewalk, and smile with glee at their children’s happiness. Parents? Mine waved goodbye while I went out. They stayed home to answer the doorbell and drink cocktails.

I thought that was normal. I felt safe. I didn’t worry about razor blades or ground glass in the candy.

As many as a dozen other baby boomers lived within two blocks. One Halloween we had a sleepover at the house across the street from mine. After making our rounds trick-or-treating, we poured the candy out of our bags onto the floor of the family room. Everyone’s haul included a few popcorn balls and caramel apples and an assortment of chocolates and other candies.

We may have had more independence, but some things stay the same: the thrilling feeling of having the usual rules suspended for one night; the chance to hide shyness behind a mask and costume; the opportunity to be on stage for one evening; and adults willing to give us candy merely for the asking.

A poem by Patricia Pella of Woodland, California, captures the feelings I get in October.

The Eve of All Saints’ Day
Remember the safety
of hiding behind a mask
entering pretend without fear
Remember the comfort
of facing the world
with grownups waiting close by
Remember the excitement of treats
spilling over rules about too much candy
and too late bedtime
Remember knowing that whoever you were
that special night
you were greeted with applause.

Eventually, the trick-or-treating stage of childhood ended. The beginning of the end occurred when a teacher who knew us answered her door. My friends and I heard the dreaded phrase, “Aren’t you a little old for this?”

But I didn’t admit it was the last time until much later. I only reluctantly quit making the rounds for candy. I wanted it all, to be considered mature by day and forever young when it came to collecting candy.

Looking back, I’m grateful for all the adults who helped hand out the memories. My friends and I thought we were on our own, but we had an army of adults backing us up.

One year a girlfriend invited me to join her church group in trick-or-treating for UNICEF. In a church basement, youth group leaders gave us collection boxes the size and shape of animal cracker boxes. We headed out to designated blocks; we begged for money for the children in faraway places. On our return we had apple cider and donuts.

Another year our patient Camp Fire Girl leaders kept us off the streets by helping organize a costume party. Our faces got splashed with water when we bobbed for apples. We bent over with laughter at our costumes. We were so young.

Soon the young and young-at-heart will have one more night to remember. Happy Halloween.

Kristine Mietzner is a Northern California writer and writing group facilitator. She can be reached at 707-319-4228 or kristine2770@yahoo.com.

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