I Survived The Sugarless Halloween Of 1982

HOBOKEN, NJ — Some of my most delightful childhood memories were the spooky Halloweens of my pre-teen years, spent in a farmy Freehold neighborhood bounded by a creek and county road. These days, as a grownup, I celebrate in the decidedly denser city of Hoboken, where trick-or-treating takes place at stores and brownstones rather than on porches and driveways. But the sentiment remains the same: meet your neighbors, treat yourself, and maybe show a little of your strange side (and hopefully get to see theirs).

We all like that extra license to let our weird side show.

As a kid, I'd anticipate the holiday for months, savoring that moment in late August when the air carried the subtle chill of fall coming down the pike. I plotted out my trick-or-treat route well in advance, riding my bike among centuries-old shade trees, mapping which houses my brother and I would hit for maximum intake.

But it wasn't just about the candy — I loved the trepidation of scaling an unfamiliar driveway, getting a glimpse into a house we normally only saw from outside.

One year, an elderly blind woman on her porch extended a shaky hand to me and said, "Do you say, 'Trick or treat?; " She handed me an apple. I worried she was lonely, so I tried to strike up a conversation, telling her she had a beautiful cat. She said she didn't know about any cat, although it was sitting in her driveway. Still, I stayed and talked a while. I kind of wanted her to be my grandma.

Mischief Night — which, apparently, is only called that in New Jersey (see map) and small parts of Pennsylvania and Connecticut — was celebrated without fail on my sleepy street. The older kids decked the boughs with rolls of Charmin, ducking behind bushes when patrol cars rolled by.

Halloween meant we could hide in our costumes and revel in that fall feeling that anything could happen.

Halloween in '82

But there was one year when I knew the holiday might not happen — The Sugarless Halloween of 1982.

I had already planned to head around town with my friend Karin in a simple witch costume, with the usual goal of scoring more treats than the previous years (and not just some low-end lollipops).

But in the final days of September, the nation suffered a tragedy. Seven people died mysteriously in the Chicago area, including a 12-year-old girl, a new mother, and a postal worker, whose brother and sister-in-law then succumbed after they took pain relievers they were mourning him.

In a compelling Patch story, a nurse spoke last year about how she investigated and found that the link was Tylenol capsules bought from various stores. The crime remains unsolved to this day. Read More: 'When We Lost Our Innocence': Nurse Who First Saw Tylenol Connection Remembers Murders 35 Years Later

This is why medicine is now sold with tamper-proof caps, and why some communities banned trick-or-treating in 1982.

At the time, I imagined how devastating it was to lose someone so suddenly. (Back then, we had no choice but to watch our parents' TV, and that meant the nightly news — with added context from the newspapers. Incidentally, we didn't turn away from facts or complain that they were meant to scare us, as once we had them, we could decide how to react.)

My usually overprotective mom somehow let me go out for Halloween anyway — I guess the free-range childhoods of the '80s trumped the dangers — but to be clear, she also said I couldn't eat the candy.

Surprisingly, I didn't mind so much. What I minded more was the stark contrast to past Halloweens.

There was a chilling sign on one door saying "Sorry, too dangerous" with a sad face in the O in "Sorry." Other houses kept their lights off.

I saw a few of my friends, not many. I understood and plodded on. Back home, I let my full candy bag hang in a bag on the door to my closet, enjoying the deliciously strange odor of chocolate and plastic.

I knew I was lucky. I was safe and healthy.

And today

Many people, including adults like me, hold Halloween near and dear. It's about community for some, and for others it's really about that rare chance for sanctioned strangeness (which was not encouraged so much in the 1980s).

Parents in Hoboken, where I am, have been wondering when an announcement will come from the city about the traditional Ragamuffin Parade. Popular parades have been canceled in places like Toms River and Ocean City.

[UPDATE: The city of Hoboken has announced it has canceled the parade for this year, and advised against trick-or-treating. See story here.]

And people are discussing how Halloween can still be fun for kids while keeping them safe, depending on each person's situation. Some have come up with creative solutions, like pouring wrapped candy into baskets to hang on their doors. Others are finding their way to farms and pumpkin patches in New Jersey and Pennsylvania (places like Alstede Farms are open for pumpking picking and activities, with restrictions).

The CDC released its recommendations for Halloween and trick-or-treating Tuesday. Read More: Halloween 2020 In NJ: CDC Weighs In On Trick-Or-Treating

What will it look like in your neighborhood, and what will you do? I'm still decorating and pondering all the ways to make the most of it while keeping safe.

And I think maybe, just maybe, we can take time to find out what's weird, unique, and quirky about our neighbors on other days — from the workers in local stores to that neighbor whose cats hang out on their porch (or someone else's).

What's quirky about you, and how do you plan to celebrate this year? Share in the comments below or send an email.

Got news? Email caren.lissner@patch.com. To be the first to get news alerts with breaking stories in your town, or to get a free local newsletter each morning, sign up for Patch breaking news alerts or daily newsletters.