by Clifford Kurt

Created on: August 07, 2009   Last Updated: August 08, 2009

THE GREAT CLIFF AND TOM HALLOWEEN CAPER

I know it was wrong certainly nothing to celebrate. I hope over the years I've sufficiently atoned. But yet I still must admire the cunning that my friend Tommy and I displayed that Saturday afternoon, when we were broke and hungry for some snacks.

Halloween was still a week away. We were bored. Baseball was almost a month past. It was too chilly to play street-ball, and none of the other kids was around anyway. Orchard Drugs was a 5-minute walk through Nopper Gardens. Orchard Drugs, the mecca for a 9 year old boy, with its chocolate cokes at the ice cream counter and its ten-cent candy bars (Marathons, Whatchamacallits and Milkshakes, to name a few). But between us, not a thin dime to be found.

I don't remember whether it was Tommy's idea or mine. But it was genius. Let's put on some costumes and go trick-or-treating. Somehow, our peach-pit-sized brains figured there were enough senior citizens in the neighborhood not paying attention to the calendar or simply confused in general. Certainly we'd convince them to break into their Halloween candy early and supply our fix.

Tommy dressed up as a devil (how fitting), I as a baseball player and off we went. We didn't know where the target seniors lived, so each doorbell was a risky encounter. Yes, a lot of, What are you idiots trying to pull. A few kindly, Children, it's not Halloween yet. But still, a jackpot or two. Oh, my, is it Halloween already? Okay, just a second.

We came home with our pillowcases pitifully light. Just 3 or 4 treats. And these were the days when fun size bars were just becoming popular, so they weren't even the full-size candy bars that our older brothers and sisters would brag about. But we did score enough to consider the effort successful.

This story would have a happy ending if one of our fathers caught on to our scheme and made us return the candy with letters of apology. Tom's folks weren't home that day, and mine never found out. And we carefully avoided any of the neighbors who would have called our parents. Ah, 1970, when neighbors still called kids' parents when mischief was afoot.

I guess if there is to be any redemption, it's that my life's work has been devoted to helping people victimized by con artists. Perhaps the guilt that I felt after Cliff and Tom's Great Halloween Adventure played a small role in my career choice as an investigator for the Better Business Bureau.

But still, direct penance is called for. This year, I'll give out full-size candy bars to the trick-or-treaters in my neighborhood. So if you, gentle reader, had an elderly parent living in Nopper Gardens in 1970, feel free to stop by my home in West Virginia for a 2.3 oz. Snickers. And a letter of apology.

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