Tomorrow is Halloween and it’s one of my favorite days of the year. When I was young, the reason was simple – I loved candy, especially free candy, and Halloween was the one day of the year we could eat as much candy as possible before going to bed.
I have faint childhood memories of princess costumes and dressing up as a hobo. Only one childhood Halloween stands out vividly for me – it was the year a kid jumped out from behind a tree and tried to steal my candy.
My brother was with me, and we were both shocked when this kid attacked me, but I held on tight to my pillow case filled with Tootsie Rolls and chocolate bars.
I’d worked hard for that loot, and there was no way some hooligan was going to take it away from me. The attack lasted less than 30 seconds, but my brother and I still remember every detail exactly the same over 50 years later.
But that memory pales in comparison to the real reason Halloween is so memorable for me. My youngest son, Chris, was born on Oct. 31, 1987.
At the time, though, I wasn’t so sure having a third baby so close to the second one wasn’t God’s trick.
I found out I was expecting our third child while I was still nursing our second one. I couldn’t figure out why I was pregnant, but my mother, who’s a devout Catholic, believed there was a reason.
“Wait and you’ll see why this baby at this time,” she said.
I didn’t believe her, thinking I’d be wearing maternity clothes for the rest of my life.
Right before I went into labor, my grandfather was admitted to the hospital, and my mom flew back home to be with her family.
Henry Eade lived a good life, and he ran successful businesses. His most lucrative was the Standard Five and Dime Store that carried yarn, household goods, wallpaper and tools. The biggest calling card for me was the candy counter.
The Standard Store’s candy counter was a child’s paradise. The shelves were packed with boxes of black and red licorice strips, candy bars, suckers, candy necklaces, bubble gum and baseball trading cards. There were lollipops, Ice Cubes, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Nestle’s Crunch bars and candy that’s no longer made.
My grandfather always gave us a paper bag when we came to the store and told us to fill it up. Perhaps that’s why I have such a sweet tooth as my candy memories are tied up with my grandfather’s generosity.
Henry ran that store until Oct. 30, 1987 when he passed away. His funeral was held at the same time I was in the hospital having my youngest son.
I talked to my mom right after Chris was safely in the nursery. She was still at the funeral home, and she reminded me of our conversation eight months earlier.
“You wondered why you were pregnant,” she said. “The answer is God doesn’t take away without giving us something in return.”
I believe a special angel watches over my son, and we joke that Henry’s doing double duty keeping up with Chris who’s an active father, husband and welder.
Chris, I believe, is somehow comforted, knowing this man he never met has his back.
And even though Halloween is a mixed blessing for me, I’ve always been a little sorry Chris has to share his day with the biggest candy heist of the year.
Instead of complaining, though, he takes his children trick-or-treating on his birthday, passing up cake and ice cream for holding his children’s hands as they walk up and down the streets in their neighborhood.
I know there’s somebody else walking along with that family as they go from door to door.
I believe Henry’s watching his great-great grandchildren’s trick-or-treat bags fill up with candy laces and bubble gum, the same goodies he gave his grandchildren so many years ago.
Happy birthday, Chris. You’re the best treat I’ve ever gotten on Halloween.