by Jeremy Laseur

Created on: October 12, 2009

To me, one of the most memorable Halloweens when I was a kid was the very last one that I actually went trick or treating. You see there come's a point in every child's development when he has to ask himself "Am I getting too old to trick or treat?" For me, that was the fall of my fourteenth year. As I looked at myself in the mirror one day a few weeks before Halloween, one inescapable fact kept staring me dead in the eye. I was tall enough to be a parent.

Now when I was at school among my friends or playing sports, this fact was actually kind of nice. Every day I thanked the pituitary gods for not leaving me off of their "to do" list. But as I stood staring at my gawky 5' 8" frame, all I could think about was what kind of costume I could wear that would not reveal that I was too old to be going door to door, pilfering candy from my neighbors. I chose to go with a short coat and Richard Nixon mask. Why? Well, I figured since there was nothing I could do to make myself shorter, at least I would wear a costume that wouldn't inhibit my movement, making it easier for me to sprint from house to house, thus increasing my total candy take. Some people might argue that a Richard Nixon mask does not constitute a costume, however those people are not trying to figure out the easiest way to extend their trick or treating careers one more year.

As my equally tall friends and I made our way around the neighborhood, we accidentally happened upon the house of our gym teacher, Mr. Ormiston. As the door opened and we stood face to face with a person who knew our dirty little secret, we all froze, hoping maybe he wouldn't know it was us. "Don't I know you guys?" he asked. "Us? Why, no sir, I'm sure you don't know us, for we are all simple grade school age children from the other side of town." At least that's what we wanted to say. When he started calling us by name and asking us how we were doing, we all looked at each other, chagrined, knowing our idiotic jig was up.

It's not every day that a junior high gym teacher unknowingly hands you your comeuppance on a platter, and after that night we all decided that our trick or treating careers probably needed to come to an end. Although not before we hit another four dozen houses and finished filling the Hefty bags we had all brought to carry our loot. What? You didn't think we were going to cut short the one night a year we could get a free (sugar filled) lunch just because of a little comeuppance did you? I mean we were 14, not stupid.

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