All About All Hallow’s Eve

So it’s time again—All Hallow’s Eve, All About Eve, whatever it is.  Halloween, the only day on the Julian calendar that explicitly discriminates against diabetics.  It should be illegal.  The big day is still a few days away, but this weekend starts the official parade of parties and costumes.  Zombie Walks have already commenced in parts of the city (though, if it’s worth anything, you can spot some pretty horrid monsters any day of the year if you look closely); and God knows every drug store has been stocked with bite-size Snickers since August.  They should make bite-sized this.

I don’t hate Halloween, mind you.  But it’s not at the top of my list of loves.  Diagnosed with a candy-intolerant disease at the age of 9, I had no choice but to suck it up and dress it up.  My mother and I had an agreement to trade the candy I earned door to door (I felt like a mini Willie Loman but with facepaint) for sugar-free candy.  This is really a misnomer, as “sugar-free” means neither free of sugar nor free of debilitating stomach cramps.  I also had the option to deliver my candy to kids in the hospital who couldn’t trick-or-treat, though I was afraid they’d throw me onto an examining room for another week at The Diabetes Institute where I’d learn to inject oranges with insulin.

I opted for the candy trade, though quickly learned how to pocket the items that were worth a lot in the cafeteria the next day.  I could get two sandwiches for three Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, and then four bags of Reece’s Pieces for those two sandwiches.  Not everyone was so bright at the Halloween NASDAQ market.

My mom and I would sort through the mess of treats once I got back from my tricking.  She got mad that I didn’t get enough Raisinets for her.  I told her she was old, she could drive to the store and get her own.  That, and nobody likes Raisinets. Not even these guys.  We agreed, civilly and fairly, to trade only the items I didn’t hate and then she’d give me the sugar-free chocolates that made me need this.  Thanks mom.

In later years, I’d grow to appreciate the traditions of walking around a dark neighborhood and asking strangers for consumables.  One guy around the corner gave out pennies and cough drops one year many years.  And the pennies were sticky from the cough drops, which were obviously older and drippy; and he obviously kept the pennies and cough drops in the decorative glass bowl.  Because doesn’t everybody pair those two together?  I know I don’t.

This year, if I’m not still sick (as I am every year this time, I think not so coincidentally), I will go out and reclaim my trick-or-treating abilities.  I still have the ‘betes, and I still wish to trade my Mars Bars for something nougat-less, but at least I know the cramps I’ll get will be from my own over-consumption and not the chemically altered chocolate of my youth.

Photo courtesy this guy.

Posted by on 10/26 at 10:59 AM