SCOTT LUDWIG: The most wonderful night of the year

Ask a roomful of 10-year-old children what their favorite day of the year is, and most of them will say Christmas. There is almost sure to be a mention or two of “my birthday” and the last day of school as well. But most assuredly, the answers won’t be unanimous.

However, ask the same group of kids what their favorite night of the year is, and the answer across the board will be Halloween. On Oct. 31, you see, regardless of whether they were naughty or nice, they’re still going to get their fair share of treats. In fact, on Halloween it’s perfectly acceptable to be a little bit of both — naughty and nice — and if every adult does their part on this most special night, there will be a whole lot more of the latter. Again, if every adult does their part.

When I was a young boy, with the possible exception of the last day of school, there wasn’t a day sitting in the classroom that the clock moved any slower than it did on Halloween. I couldn’t wait to get home, throw on my costume, grab my pillowcase – it held a lot more candy than the traditional Halloween bag or plastic pumpkin, after all – and head out into the neighborhood. Many times I would return home to empty my pillowcase once it was full, one year even twice. After all, my personal goal on Halloween was to trick or treat my weight in candy. More often than not, I was successful; if you saw photographs of me as a youngster, you’d understand.

As the years passed by and I became too old to wear a costume on Oct. 31 – although I admit to going out for a run early on Halloween morning not long ago wearing a hockey mask like Jason in Friday the 13th – I never lost my love for the most wonderful night of the year.

I love Halloween. I took both of my sons trick or treating until they reached that age (warning: ages may vary) when it was no longer “cool” to solicit door-to-door for Baby Ruth candy bars and Bazooka bubble gum.

I love Halloween. Our black lab Magic used to love it as well. She always looked forward to all the little girls and boys dressing up in cute and occasionally scary costumes, just so they could stop by our house and pay her a visit — because what dog wouldn’t want a night of undevoted attention and petting?

I love Halloween. I’ve taken our grandson trick-or-treating for the past seven or eight years, and he’s proven to be a chip off the old block: He loves Halloween as well. This year, however, he’s at “that age” (thus the earlier warning) where he wants to be on his own on Oct. 31 with one of his close friends.

In other words, this Halloween I’ll be sitting on the bench. I won’t be alone, though. Cindy will be there with me – and we’ll have a basket of candy ready, hoping the little boys and girls will dress up in cute and occasionally scary costumes and stop by our house, yell “trick or treat,” and smile when we drop a handful of candy – the kind with the factory wrapper, and most certainly nothing homemade because, as we all know, that’s cheating – into their plastic pumpkin, pillowcase, or whatever they’re using to haul it off with.

But from what I’ve seen the last couple of years, Halloween is just not the same. And by all indications, it never will be again.

I’ve noticed there are not as many children out on Halloween as there used to be. I’ve also noticed there are more and more houses each year with the lights turned off – the universal language for “don’t bother stopping here because there isn’t any candy.”

If I didn’t know better, I might think the owners of the houses with their lights off never wore cute and occasionally scary costumes when they were kids. If I didn’t know better, I might think they never went door-to-door for candy when they were young. If I didn’t know better, I might just brush it off completely.

The problem is, I do know better, and I believe it’s sad that adults — the children of yesterday — are unwilling to return the favor and pass out candy to the children of today.

I encourage adults everywhere to pitch in and do their part to keep Halloween the most wonderful night of the year.

Without a treat, there could always be a trick.