For many children in North America, this is a day when they start eating the Halloween candy that they begged for the previous night. Though parents search the goodies for hidden dangers, such as pins and injected drugs, their children understand that this must be done for their own good.
Before I was sent five-hundred miles from home to a blind school, Mom let me eat as much candy as I liked before I went to bed on Halloween night. That changed radically at Jericho Hill School for the Deaf and Blind. The supervisor of the boys dorm confiscated the candy and doled it out a bit at a time. The smart kids often ate candy as they trick-or-treated so they wouldn’t have to lose it.
We had one supervisor who helped herself to our goodies. Even when we received care packages from home, she withheld and distributed our treats. Of course we knew much of our parents’ largess wasn’t consumed by us.
When I lived in the intermediate dorm, the supervisors decided we were old enough to look after our own candy. That was a wise decision because we had learned the lesson of thrift from our fifty-cent-a-week allowances. Once the money was gone, we couldn’t beg any more until the next Friday. Too bad many adults ignore that economic lesson these days.
I wrote about our post-Halloween feasts, and famines, in Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School). This memoir describes what life was like in Canada’s infamous institution that was later closed down due to ongoing sexual abuse. Read more about the book at the Bruce Atchison’s books link.