Although observe now, Halloween was unknown in Germany in 1967. I suppose the German candy and costume industries had not yet discovered its additional income opportunity. I, a German citizen at the time, was spending a year in California to improve my English. Toward the end of my stay, the 31st of October came around. Germans were already putting on their woolens, but it still felt like the middle of summer in Southern California. Finally home after a long day at the office, I had just slipped into my bathing suit to take a quick dip in the apartment complex’s swimming pool when the doorbell rang.
Who might that be? Shall I put on a robe first or just open the door clad in my bathing suit? Oh, what’s the heck? Who hasn’t seen a bathing suit before? I opened the door and found myself staring at the cutest cluster of little pirates, princesses, witches and kitty cats. They could not have been more than five or six years old. Her teeny Highness even wore high heels. As I eyed the pint-sized assembly in surprise, eight tiny faces smiled up at me jabbering something in unison.
Halloween witch. Photo © J. Elke Ertle, 2022. www.walled-in-berlin.com
As usual, I did not understand a word. Almost nine months into my stay in San Diego, I still had trouble assimilating speech when more than one person spoke at a time. While I searched the recesses of my brain to make out what they were saying, the princess and the kitty cat stretched up their arms, holding out small buckets with candy. They want to share their goodies. How sweet of them. I didn’t care much for candy, but how could I disappoint the kids. Complimenting them on their costumes, I dutifully reached into each bucket and took a candy from each little goblin.
The kids stood rooted to the floor. I thanked them again, and then one more time. Finally, I just smiled and closed the door. There was some chatter outside, and then I heard them move on and ring my next-door neighbor’s bell. I had just resumed getting ready for the pool again when the doorbell rang a second time. Peeking through the kitchen curtain now instead of opening the door, I saw another group of kids, all dressed in costumes, standing on my doorstep. Something is wrong here. I called my girlfriend. “Sonja, a bunch of kids in costumes keep ringing my doorbell and offering me candy. Why do you think they are doing this?”
Sonja laughed hysterically, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Tonight is Halloween. That’s when children put on costumes and go from house to house to ask for candy. Didn’t they yell, Trick or Treat?”
“Maybe. I have no idea what they were saying. What does it mean anyway?”
“It means that if you don’t give them a treat, they’ll pull a trick on you. The kids expect you to give them some candy on Halloween, not take it. You’d better prepare for some mischief.”
“Mischief?”
For a sneak peek at the first 20+ pages of my memoir, Walled-In: A West Berlin Girl’s Journey to Freedom, click “Download a free excerpt” on my home page and feel free to follow my blog about anything German: historic and current events, people, places and food.
Walled-In is my story of growing up in Berlin during the Cold War. Juxtaposing the events that engulfed Berlin during the Berlin Blockade, the Berlin Airlift, the Berlin Wall and Kennedy’s Berlin visit with the struggle against my equally insurmountable parental walls, Walled-In is about freedom vs. conformity, conflict vs. harmony, domination vs. submission, loyalty vs. betrayal.
Tags: halloween candy, halloween costumes, mischief, trick or treat
