Chose Not to Trick-or-Treat? Here’s What You Missed.
By: Stephanie Tolk
Tags: Covid 19, Culture, Holidays, Parenting, Halloween

Halloween 2020 promised to be so miserable that I set low trick-or-treating expectations for my children. “Let’s give it a shot for 20 or 30 minutes,” I told them. “We can always just come home and watch a movie.” I packed a couple of candies in my bag along with their warm coats, and I had small gifts, new graphic novels, tucked away at home in case the night epically disappointed.

During the preceding week, all our friends backed out.

Family number one chose to say home, planning to have the children knock on internal doors to trick-or-treat with their parents somehow hopping from room to room. Family number two invited us to join them for their neighbor’s Door or Horrors backyard scavenger hunt, only to learn that the neighbors preferred no additional guests. Family number three respected their 14-year-old daughter’s wishes to wear make-up and watch a movie in the backyard with other teenagers instead. Family number four — our sure thing — bailed at the last minute because no other family in their children’s entire school was going trick-or-treating. They figured it must be a bad idea.

We were on our own.

After an early dinner, my daughters gamely donned their costumes: an amalgamation of a creepy spidery queen and a glow-in-the-dark stick figure. We drove to the nearest wealthy neighborhood because, in the past, we’ve appreciated the extravagantly decorated homes and the full-sized candy bars. My husband and I hoped that the gentlemen with the hot toddies and 80s music would be celebrating again; we always enjoyed pausing there.

The setting

We live in Portland, Oregon where COVID-19 infections are rising along with rates in much of the country and the world. However, our county residents tend to follow directions. To date, 1.1% of those in the county have tested positive for the virus, and everywhere, people adhere to rules around mask-wearing and distancing. Regularly, I see people walking down the street, alone and far from others, wearing masks.

I had faith in my fellow Portlanders to create a COVID-safe Halloween for the community’s children, and they did not disappoint.

We also took our own precautions. When my children begged for a piece of candy, I pulled out something from my pocket. My daughters knew not to eat or sneak candy from trick-or-treat homes. We wore masks all evening, and we stepped in the street to pass other families. We used gallons of hand sanitizer. When we returned home, we spread out the candy on a table and sprayed disinfectant on both sides of the packaging.

The experience

Early in the evening, when we arrived at our destination neighborhood, we discovered that many of the houses were dark and hot toddies were nowhere to be seen, but those with lights lit were deeply invested in bringing joy to children and families.

And boy, were they creative.

Candy chutes abounded. Our favorite rested on a second-story balcony and reached the sidewalk. At about 20 feet in length, it was wrapped in a spiral of lights and shot out full candy bars. Some people taped candy to large boards along with welcoming signage. Others set up creepy scarecrows or clowns in chairs on lawns with bowls of candy resting in their laps. And others lovingly filled bags and left greetings or riddles on the brown paper packaging.

Every resident gave out much more than the typical single piece of candy.

Better yet, all over the neighborhood we met people on the other end of the candy chutes, on their porches, or gathered around firepits with neighbors. They greeted us, waved at us from their steps, initiated the conversation, and wished us a happy Halloween. They thanked us for venturing out. At one home, my husband enjoyed an IPA, and I had a glass of wine.

How a holiday about nearness to death brought life and light

Everyone wore masks, but with faces half covered, the holiday cheer, the commitment to bringing happiness, and the pleasure in doing so were evident. We lingered together on sidewalks and in driveways, feeling joy over the simple act of meeting strangers after seven months of keeping our distance.

During COVID-19’s rampage, we all choose what’s comfortable. We bubble with friends or family, welcoming a select few into our homes with hugs, or we don’t let anyone inside of our homes. We carpool to work with masks on and windows down, or we don’t drive with anyone. We wear gloves to the grocery store; we don’t go to the store at all.

On Halloween, in pockets across Portland, Oregon, groups of people did their best to make one night feel normal for the community’s children. Some of us ventured out tentatively, knowing we were increasing risks, but hoping, for one time this year, that a beloved, the anticipated annual ritual would feel ordinary. And our neighbors rose up and exceeded our expectations.

And after sorting, counting, and savoring candy, removing glow stick glasses, and wiping spider decals from the skin, my daughters went to sleep feeling, for one night, that all was right in the world.