Here it is: The Day After. Not that movie from the late part of the Cold War, depicting life in our area following a nuclear detonation. Although, there are some similarities: people walking around looking dazed and confused...wrappers and half-eaten Three Musketeers mixed in with smushed and rotting Jack-O-Lanterns. But, actually, I mean, The Day After Halloween, when stockpiles of candy are found everywhere. WMDs. Weapons of Mass Destruction of Wastelines and Tooth Enamel...I guess that makes them WMDWTE...MOUSE. In our house, only two of the kids made the rounds last night but they came back with plenty. Our daughter, Samantha, hit the neighborhood with a gaggle of friends...stayed at it for two solid hours and returned home with a little bit of everything. Meanwhile, Harrison went out with a couple of his friends from down the street and his friends' father. Their dad is a military man and, apparently, executed Operation Give Me Candy, with amazing success. They were only gone for about thirty minutes but ended up with an enormous stack of sweet stuff. It really was a thing of beauty. Door-to-door-to-door...quickly, efficiently, politely raiding every candy bowl...then, planting the flag in the front yard before moving onto the next goal. Clint Eastwood has already purchased the rights for his next movie.

While last night was certainly a success for our two Trick-or-Treaters, as well as our dentist, the most candy I've ever seen collected was by our second oldest son, Taylor, a few years back. Frankly, he was lucky to get to go. He'd been a bit of a pill in the days leading up to Halloween and I was leaning toward grounding him for the holiday. But, as often happens, my forgiving wife interceded and kindly pointed out that the boy didn't have many more chances to Trick-or-Treat before being too old for it. You can look at her point in a couple of ways: She was being compassionate and showing common sense or she was undermining my authority and undercutting my fatherly disciplinary techniques! The bottom line: Taylor got to go candy hunting with his pal. I was put in time-out. Anyway, he and his buddy hit an older neighborhood and turned out to be about the only kids on the street. He came back with a pillow case overflowing with bounty. Not just the little treats...huge chocolate bars...full bags of chips. He had so much candy, he had to get a restraining order naming Willie Wonka and Milton Hershey as stalkers. By the end of the night, the homeowners, disappointed by the meager turnout in their neighborhood, were just dumping their stuff into his hands. It was quite impressive although we did make him return the keys to the Lexus and deed to the lake-house one Halloween-Happy fellow had given him.

Taylor, by the way, made that candy last for almost a year. He is a hoarder...a saver. He always rationed his Halloween take. He does the same, now, with his money. He is frugal. He is careful. Let's face it, he's cheap. So tight, he squeaks. His older brother's candy usually lasted until he got home from Trick-or-Treating. The two that went out last night are somewhere in the middle. They are smart about preventing my wife and I from sampling. They open just about everything immediately. Take a bite or a lick and put it back in their pile. Actually, we, as parents, are pretty good about not taking the kids' candy. My wife also, wisely, buys candy to hand out that we don't really like. One year, I did the purchasing and, by the time the holiday, rolled around everything was gone. I ended up handing out slices of wheat bread and assorted spices. I can still hear one kid asking, "What's paprika, mommy?"

I remain surprised by how many generous folks out there give full size candy bars and multiple treats per child. When I was a kid, it was all about the mini-stuff. We also got pop-corn balls which always looked better than they tasted but made great projectiles, especially when tossed at high speed from behind a tree...in the dark...at your older brother's girlfriend. Then there were the people who insisted on giving us apples. As an adult, I understand their good intentions but, from a child's perspective, giving healthy treats on Halloween is just plain wrong. What's next? Broccoli? There was one person in our neighborhood who handed out pencils with the name of his insurance firm on them. We were not interested in whole life...we wanted chocolate and sugar! As in many towns, the local dentists handed out tooth-brushes, although, from a business standpoint, they really should have been tossing sticky, sugary caramels in our bags. Another thing I used to get that my kids don't: pennies. There were always those folks who had totally forgotten about the big day and would reach into the bottom of their purse or pocket for change. I often walked away with a couple of coins and a ball of lint.

Nowadays, our children are pretty savvy about avoiding houses that are clearly not interested in the routine. Porch lights off...no pumpkins glowing out front. Again, they are smarter and more polite than I was. A darkened house was an invitation. There were a few neighbors that had reputations for not wanting to be bothered which meant, of course, we'd rumble onto their front stoops, bang on the doors, and scream "Trick or treat...smell our feet...give us something good to eat!" Usually no one came to the door...occasionally you'd hear a muffled "Kids...kids...kids..." then the door would open a crack and a piece of Jurassic Park fruitcake or musty olive loaf would come sailing our way.

By the way, we never pulled any tricks if we came away empty-handed. We were all too scared. In a small town, there is no anonymity. If we'd thrown one roll of toilet paper into one tree, it would've been a headline in the Sauk-Prairie Star and the theme of every Sunday sermon. That was a much scarier proposition than any vampire, werewolf or mummy.