Tag: Halloween

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Halloween Candy Haul: A Grandpa’s Last Trick-or-Treat Adventure


I wrote this in 2019, but thought it appropriate to bring it out again for Halloween.

I’m sad to say, that my wife did not believe me when I announced this would be my last “trick-or-treat” before my coming demise. There are three things left on my bucket list, and this will reduce it by one.

Walking out of the front door in my black jacket, black shirt, black jeans and Texas Rangers baseball cap, the look on her face says that she didn’t believe I would really do it. I reminded her to “hide and watch” as I departed down the sidewalk carrying my Trader Joes paper bag.

A few blocks down, I joined a group of children in search of sweets. It was cold, so most had on heavy jackets that hid their fancy costumes. The kids assumed I was someone’s grandfather and welcomed my presence as a chaperone and comrade. A few of the mothers gave me the stink eye, but being a kindly older fellow went a long way in easing their fears.

A few dozen houses behind us, the group was thinning down to a dedicated few. The hour was late and the school bell rings early, so the younger ones retreated for home to sort their spoils. I noticed that my bag was getting heavy, so I told the group I would do one last stop, then split for home.

Our last stop was a retirement apartment complex. One kid said ” it’s the best because old people miss their grandchildren and really pile on the goodies.” I can identify with that, and I would do the same if I was wielding the candy bowl.

As predicted, the octogenarians loaded our bags to the bursting point. They didn’t mess around with the bite size candy bars, everyone received full size bars, like the ones you see in grocery stores. My bag, one handle ripped, was maxed out.

Unable to carry my booty, I summoned my wife to drive me home. She was excited over the amount of candy I collected because she loves chocolate as much as any six-year-old, and I had enough to last for months.

At home, we turned on “The Bride of Frankenstein” and dumped my bag of goodies onto the den rug. We were, for a moment, children again. A treasure trove of candy lay piled before us. It was the largest haul of my life. I gave my spouse a smug “told you so” smile, as she clapped with glee and sorted out the best chocolate bars for her consumption. It was then things took a weird turn.

From the pile of sweet treasure I pulled a plastic bag of No. 2 Male Catheters. I’m thinking someone at that retirement home must be missing these by now. Digging further, I exhumed a new tube of hemorrhoid cream, two tubes of denture paste, a bottle of stool softener, handwipes, a pair of reading glasses, an adult diaper rolled up and tied with a blue ribbon and three 50% off coupons from Luby’s Cafeteria. I was mortified. My wife laughed so hard she barely made it to the bathroom. Well, at least I gave it a shot.

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Ask A Texan: One Last Halloween


Advice For Non-Texas Folks That Need It, Whether They Know It Or Not

The Texan

I received an email from Mrs. Lillian Munster of Winston, Massachusetts. It seems her husband is determined to have one last Halloween, and she is fearing the worst.

Mrs. Munster: Mr. Texan, I read about your advice in a magazine I got at the Goodwill Store last week. My husband, Boris, is 92 years old and recently had an episode from being electrocuted while working in his shop ( he calls it his lab ). Still, it’s really just a shop in our garage, which is full of crazy stuff he has been building for decades: lots of glass tubes, electronic machines, tables with straps, and things like that. He was installing a large Ham Radio tower and lightning struck it, knocking him out from the jolt. Our oldest son, Eddie, just happened to drop by and found him on the garage floor mumbling nonsense. The doctor at the ER said the lightning jolt and the fall likely affected his brain. Now he is insisting that he go trick-or-treating because he thinks this will be his last Halloween, and it may well be. The jolt and the fall gave him a cut on his forehead, but Eddie used a staple gun to close the injury, and it did disfigure his face a bit, giving him a limp, and he now drags one leg behind him, and it’s hard for him to walk because he is 7 feet 6 inches tall. It also affected his speech, and he now only talks gibberish and is afraid of fire. He wants to go trick-or-treating with the kids in the neighborhood, but I’m afraid for his safety. We have folk in our rural area that own guns, pitchforks and torches, and they might get the wrong idea when he mumbles for some candy. He does look a bit scary. Do you have any suggestions on how I can prevent him from going through with this? I’m sending you a recent photo of him so you’ll see what I’m talking about.

My husband, Boris, after his morning coffee

The Texan: Mrs. Munster, I can see why you are concerned. He looks pretty scary, and if I answered the door and he was standing there with his plastic pumpkin candy holder mumbling gibberish, I might well grab my 12-gauge or a garden pitchfork too. Try to persuade him to visit a haunted house, or at least attend a Halloween carnival at the local school or church; he would likely be a big hit with the kids there. My late uncle Zevon developed a facial condition, and long brown hair grew and covered his entire face, which made him resemble the Wolf Man from the old 1930s movies. He became increasingly self-conscious and stopped going out in public; instead, he began to make a living by writing hit songs. I’m sending you a CD of Halloween songs, which includes the Monster Mash, the tune my uncle wrote. I’m also sending your husband a box of Cherry Bombs to keep him occupied in his lab. Keep in touch.

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The Great Pumpkin Made Me Do it, 2.0


I wrote this post some years back, but I want to share it again with my faithful blogging friends. Halloween is not just for kids.

I did something last night that surprised me, and that’s always good. I watched ” Its The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,” the proverbial 1960s Halloween show.

Seeing the old Peanuts gang looking so healthy and young was comforting. Pig Pen and Linus are still my favorites. Charlie Brown has a defeatist attitude, so I never got into him. While watching that program, I told my wife, Maureen, that it rejuvenated my interest in Halloween and trick-or-treating. Things are going to be different this year, I declared.

As a child, I fondly remember the anticipation of Halloween. When October 1st arrived, the kids in my neighborhood counted the days until Halloween. Back in the day (the 1950s), we celebrated Halloween on the actual date and did our begging on that evening, in the dark, even if it was a school night. We were tough kids back then, staying up late and going to school the next day. We didn’t need a weekend to recover and didn’t know what a safe room was. Trick-or-treating was damn serious stuff for us, and we were good at it.

In a fit of nostalgia, I announced to my wife that I would go trick-or-treating this year. She is going along with the idea as if I am joking. I tell her I am not, and she can hide and watch. As for a costume, I will wear a black t-shirt, a black jacket, jeans and sneakers, and possibly a Texas Rangers ball cap if the weather is inclement. I will not carry a glow stick or a flashlight; that’s for babies. If I can’t find a group of kids to walk with, I will trudge on by myself. I am determined to experience one last Halloween before that tall, robe-wearing dude with a sickle knock on my door. This has evolved into a bucket list thing, and I must see it through.

I have given this some thought and have worked out the perfect plan accepted in today’s society. When I ring the first doorbell, and a smiling man or woman answers, I will say trick-or-treat, holding their candy bowl. Their first reaction will be to say, “where’s your grandkid, or what the hell is this.” Either one, I’m ready. I will look them straight in their parental eye and say, ” I identify as a 6-year-old.” I will come home with a full bag of goodies or bond out of jail. It’s going to be a good Halloween this year.

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Things To Ponder Or Wonder


Smarter Than The Average Bear

Cute stories in the news always catch my attention, especially if they include animals. Black Bears are recently included because of their prowess in breaking and entering homes. One Bear broke into a residence, raided the freezer, found a Tupperware container of Lasanga, and prepared a meal for itself. It included a small side salad and French garlic bread. The owners of the home surprised the furry chef, and he fled. The owners said the Bear was quite good at preparing the meal but didn’t take the time to clean the kitchen. They named him “Yogi Bourdain.”

Another Black Bear was caught on camera raiding the Halloween candy dish. The homeowner said the beast took all the Hershey chocolate and left the Jolly Rancher. Guess it didn’t want to break a tooth.

A Swiftless Series

The Texas Rangers won their first World Series last night, and Taylor Swift was nowhere to be seen, and that’s a good thing. When her commercials air on the tube, I scramble for the remote so I can change the channel. I’m convinced she can’t speak without “Autotune.”

Sweet Tooth

This Halloween, I did not “trick or treat.” My wife MoMo confined me to the house after my last candy outing resulted in my arrest when I told the shocked parents handing out sweets that I “identified as a six-year-old.” I thought it was a great idea; the kids I hung out with loved my ploy.

“It’s Alive, Alive I Tell You!”

Not bad looking for putting it together at the last minute

Tomorrow morning at 7:10 AM, I will be laying on a cold stainless steel table receiving massive injections in my spine to stop the pain from “run-away” rebellious nerves” caused by “two world-class old man bouncing off the concrete falls.” I will be knocked out cold for this “procedure,” as my nurse wife likes to call it. The good doctor will use a Robot with a large syringe in each metal claw, directing the shot to the exact spot in my poor spine. I’m pretty darn sure the doctor, before I go to La La Land, will say, “This might hurt a tiny bit.” No shit.

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The Final Gasp Of Hallows Eve


Eddie the Raven

Tis almost over, the night of ghouls, Ravens, and goblins, beggers of sweets, impersonators of the great, the terrible, and the incorrigible loose souls. I have made it through another Halloween and haven’t seen or heard anything about Taylor Swift. Thank the Lord she didn’t show up at the Rangers versus the Diamondbacks game.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

Until next year, I bid you adieu.