My father has been gone twenty-five years already. Seems like yesterday I was sitting at the table in his antique shop called “The Mousetrap.” His shop, located in a small town of 300 people in western New York, sat next to a large parking lot that had once belonged to an active business building that was set way back from the road. That parking lot attracted bicycle riders, skateboard attempters, and other children playing in the day light. At night, cars of teenagers parked in the shadows doing what they do in the dark.
People that visited my father’s shop would see the activity and ask him, “Do you have trouble with break-ins?”
He would answer, “No. I don’t even lock the doors. The local kids know I give out family size Hershey candy bars on Halloween and they protect my place from anyone who thinks about breaking in.”
“How do you know that?”
“Their folks stop in and tell me, or the kids do. They know they are welcome here. I’ve sold some interesting pieces to them as Christmas gifts for family, friends or teachers.”
My father understood people. He renewed his security system on an annual basis by giving out large, costly candy bars on Halloween instead of the miniature size bars that were the norm. I wish he were still here so my grandkids could know him.
Happy Halloween everyone. May you enjoy the day however you keep it and for whatever reason.