I have a memory from my childhood that will remain with me always. I was very young (only about 7 years old) when something bad happened to me on Halloween night. The important ritual of trick-or-treating, which was considered relatively safe when I was young, suddenly turned into a scary nightmare for me and my older sister one year.
The streets we knew well
We were walking together in a familiar neighborhood about six blocks from our home. These were streets we knew well, and some of the people who answered the doors knew us by our first names, because we walked by their houses every day on the way to our school (which was just at the end of the street). They usually invited us into their homes and spent time talking to us about our cute costumes.
I came from a large family of girls, (six) so we all went out in a big group to trick-or-treat, but then we paired off so we could cover more ground (and get more candy). We didn’t worry about anything because there were lots of other groups of kids our age out doing the same thing.
An important event
Halloween was one of the most important events of the year for us because it was like a major jewel heist, as we loaded up our strong paper bags with full sized candy bars, homemade cookies, apples and such. This was a number of years ago, before they invented smaller sized candy bars, so our bags got heavier and heavier as we walked with the dedication of soldiers up and down the street, going door to door.
The candy competition
We all worked hard for our candy, and we looked forward to having giant piles of it to show off after our night of trick-or-treating. It was a matter of pride and competition to see which child in the family came home with the most candy. It was serious business for us and something we looked forward to.
My sister and I had made the usual big haul and were carrying our heavy bags, which seemed almost unbearable in their weight, after walking for hours. I remember swishing our feet through the neighborhood yards that had tons of leaves in them. We were carefree. The night was dark, but we weren’t afraid because we had our flashlights and we were in a familiar place, just out having fun.
The long walk home
Strangely enough, I don’t remember what my costume was that night, but I remember feeling very excited and happy as I walked along with my sister as we strolled quietly along on a street filled with many other costumed figures of every size, shape and variety.
It was getting late and near the end of our trick-or-treating route, which covered a great distance of about 10 blocks up and 10 blocks back to our family home, which was located in a small city in Idaho.
Two black masked figures
All of a sudden, we saw two large figures of teenage boys running toward our direction. They were dressed up as bank robbers in dark clothes and had black masks on. We didn’t think too much of it. But then they ran up to us and grabbed our full bags of candy right out of our arms, before we even figured out what was happening!
The two dark robbers laughed and shouted and cheered as they ran off down the street with their ‘loot’, quickly getting away so fast, there was no way we could catch up to them. Besides, we were scared to death!
Sobs and tears rolled quickly down our faces as we screamed, then cried as we started to run the distance back home. We had been robbed of our most precious cargo and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it, since we were just tiny little girls. I was 7 and my sister was 8, and I am guessing the boys were in junior high or high school.
The tragedy
We came through the door and it was a scene of tragedy like none other!
And there was my dad, who jumped up from his chair, and as he listened to our cries, and the story was told. Sadly, and with a large amount of empathy, he listed to what we said through all the shrieks, tears and confusion. I don’t remember what he said, because I was too upset, but what happened next, I will never forget.
My dad became a superhero in that moment. He got mad, which was a rarity, and it seemed like his body was transformed into a giant figure. He seemed to have superhuman strength. He was on a mission and nothing would stop him. What happened wasn’t fair and He was determined to do something about it!
No need to call the police
So, my dad and my big brother ran out the door together and jumped in the car and drove down the street. There was no need to call the police. They didn’t come back for quite a while, so we were nervous and as we thought about all the terrible things that might be happening. Our little imaginations went wild. “Maybe he’s going to get those guys and beat them up,” we shouted angrily through our tears. It seemed like nothing would comfort us. The reality was that they drove around for awhile but never found the criminals.
The pillar of strength
In the midst of my heartache, I knew that no matter what happened, I had the best dad on the face of the earth and he was going to protect me at all costs. He was a pillar of strength in my mind, and being a rather tall, muscular fellow, I knew that if there was a way to get our candy back, he was going to do it, without a doubt.
My dad, the super-hero
I never forgot that night because it was an eye opener for me. I knew then, the world would not always be a safe place and bad things could happen. But, I was comforted when I needed it the most and I knew that no matter what else ever happened to me, I could always count on my dad to be there. And he was.
For many years he rescued me from numerous perils, during my teenage years, like when my cars broke down (and they always did), or when I lost my car keys, or needed emergency help, even as an adult. Just like he was on that Halloween night, my dad remained the superhero that always came to my rescue.
Photo Credit: ArlomP at Flickr
