Cathy in the Wright

Halloweiners

The Night Writer has a post up this morning about serving hot cider to the throngs of ghost, goblins, Power Rangers, and princesses that crossed his lawn last night, and it reminded me of one very special Halloween from my youth.

I must have been in third or fourth grade...I'm not sure. I was old enough to be embarrassed by my family at any rate. I was getting ready to go out trick-or-treating in our small, friendly, Leave-It-To-Beaver style neighborhood when my mother started getting ready for the locals by hauling out the grill.

Mom?! What are you doing?

Getting the grill ready. I told you I'm serving hot dogs.

I thought you were joking!

Nope.

And she wasn't. She and Dad stood outside and grilled hot dogs. Coffee was offered to the adults; cider to the kids. And she did have a bowl of candy for anyone who didn't want a hot dog or didn't trust the strange woman who was standing over the Weber with a pair of tongs.

I don't think she had many people worried about foreign substances in the hot dogs or drinks. Of course this was back in the days when your last stop on the candy trail was not the local hospital to have your treats x-rayed.

The hot dogs were a big hit, but that didn't stop me from dreading the next day at school when everyone would be talking about the previous night.

Did ya get those red pills from the dentist down in the dead end? Ya chew em up and they show you if you have cavities!

Did you watch cartoons in the big picture window of that brick house on Morningside?

Did you go to Cathy's house?! They were serving hot dogs!

Mrs. Douglas gave out apples. Again.

I couldn't stand to listen, which is a shame because if I had paid more attention, I would have realized that the hot dogs were a success. But my brothers and I pleaded and begged to return to the fold, and next year we handed out Smarties and 3 Musketeers like everyone else.

The Hot Dog Halloween became a family legend, and if we lived in town, I'd be really tempted to revive it.

I'd probably have to wait until The Senator is a little older. He doesn't have a fully-developed sense of shame yet. No fun hauling out the hot dogs until he can be completely embarrassed by them.

Posted by Cathy at November 1, 2006 09:11 AM