I knew I'd moved in a haunted house

Halloween is my least favorite "holiday" of the year. At the risk of sounding like an old grump, to me it has become more of an excuse for gross-outs and adults behaving badly. And my patience for both has mostly disappeared.

It wasn't always this way.

My neighborhood growing up in Shavertown, Pa., had a tradition that I never heard of, before or since. And people I tell today don't believe it, but I remember it well.

As I trudged up and down Mt Airy Road and Pioneer Avenue with my double-enforced Acme shopping bag (no fancy candy-gathering totes from Michaels or Target for us), I knew that I had to be prepared before knocking on anyone's door.

It was expected that each trick-or-treater come equipped with a joke, a song, a riddle, or something. You had to give to get.

My go-to something for at least several years was this riddle, which speaks of my age and wit:

If you were going to die and only had five cents in your pocket, what would you buy?

Wait for it...

A pack of Life Savers.

Laughs all around, and then the candy went in the bag. Lots of candy.

I also vaguely remember doing a song and maybe another joke in previous and subsequent years, but the details are long gone.

Just like my enjoyment of this "holiday." Sorry.