Last year on Halloween, I purchased some candy in the expectation of handing it out to children. I had finally moved into a house in a neighborhood with some children. Then something like three or four kids came by and the ones who did were more teenagers than children. It was a disappointment, one I wrote about in this column. This year, I took a different approach. I didn’t buy any candy to hand out and instead I went to a different part of the neighborhood to walk with a few people from church and their children, ranging in costume from Bluey to characters from Full House (as their parents had introduced them to the show).

In a small area of the neighborhood, on the other side of the roundabout that demarcates sectors, it was Halloween as I remember it from my own childhood. There were children everywhere, in groups small and large. Parents and grandparents strolled behind and talked to neighbors. The streets weren’t closed, but maybe they should have been; in any event, what little car traffic there was moved at a crawl. At one cul-de-sac, residents pooled together and set up a table along the main road to hand out candy in a more efficient manner. That isn’t quite as lazy as the trunk-or-treats that came into existence after I’d stopped making the rounds, but it still left me with a wry smile.

I stayed with the group until we reached the point closest to my house and when they chose to turn around. I just kept walking back. They were smart to turn around when they did. There was no candy to be had on the rest of my walk back. There may have been other pockets of trick or treating in the neighborhood, but not in my little section. My dinners are often quiet, but that one was especially so. Despite that, I’m glad I joined the festivities in the capacity in which I did.