Halloween 2026 is behind us now, and so are the memories we didn’t make. That’s because there was nothing special about this year’s Halloween. It wasn’t spooky. It was just sad. Not too many years ago, it was common for more than 130 costumed kids to come through our neighborhood. This year we had eight. More on the reason for that decline in a moment.
Back when Pam and I first moved to Kernersville, we gave out plenty of candy to kids who lived on our street; meanwhile, parents from other areas of town would drive into our subdivision with vans full of excited youth in tow. I guess our block had a reputation for giving the best treats. Anyway, for several years in a row, I rigged up a scary, voice-activated genie by the front door. Pam would greet the kids as I hid inside, with a remote microphone, and conversed with each child. The genie frightened some of the kids, but they still asked for and received treats. We got to meet lots of families, and we had fun with the interactions.
It was reminiscent of Halloweens past when my buddies and I traversed the streets of Winston-Salem’s Knollwood Manor in the late 1950 s and early 1960s. One lady gave out homemade candy apples. Other women in the neighborhood made popcorn and baked cookies just for the occasion. Houses were elaborately decorated, and one even featured a haunted basement. By 1961, we were taught that Russia posed a nuclear threat to our neighborhood, so it was comforting when we came upon one house on Knollwood Street that had an honest-to-God bomb shelter.
In those days, I didn’t have money to purchase store-bought costumes, so Mom and Dad would dress me up using materials that we had in the house. My favorite was when they sent me out looking like a hobo (perhaps hoping I would hop a train and leave town). Upon returning to our house with a bag full of treats, I would take off my home-made costume, sort through the candy that I had collected, and settle in to watch horror movies on WSJS-TV (now WXII-TV). I remember those nights like it was yesterday, and I remember them fondly. So, what happened to the Halloween traditions that I grew up with? What happened to the 138 kids that Pam and I used to buy candy for? I’ll tell you what happened—trunk-or-effing-treat happened, that’s what happened.
Trunk-or-treat sprung up in the mid 1990s. The concept was simple. A church, school, or other organization would invite parents to decorate their cars, fill their trunks with candy, then drive their kids to a lighted parking lot where children could stroll from car to car and collect treats. Trunk-or-treat gatherings were thought to be a safe and convenient alternative to letting young children wander dark neighborhoods and do so without fear of tainted candy, sexual assault, or getting hit by a car while crossing the street. This sort of Halloween tailgating really took off during the COVID pandemic when personal interactions were deemed to be unhealthy. After that, trunk-or-treat continued to grow in popularity, and as it did, it diminished the number of kids who still went trick-or-treating in the traditional way.
We live in an era of helicopter parents who hover over their kids and teach them to be triggered by anything and everything. Yes, crossing the street at night to get from one house to another can be dangerous, but so can gathering in a parking lot where last year a motorist in Brooklyn accidentally drove into a trunk-or-treat crowd and injured six people. Besides, the parents of very young children who used to come to our house on Halloween always walked their kids to our door, then stood back to let them enjoy the moment.
When I was a kid, Halloween taught us that it was fun to dress up and visit houses where all sorts of people lived. In fact, our neighborhood was diverse before we knew what the word meant. On just our block alone, we had a Jewish family, a Greek family, and an Iranian family, and I collected treats from all of them. Back then, Halloween taught us how to be on our own, respect curfews, and appreciate folks of all genders, races, and religions. Compare that to the lessons that trunk-or-treat teaches kids. Joked comedian Jonnie W., “What we teach our kids now is that car trunks may be filled with delicious candy.” Call me crazy, but I thought car trunks were made to hold spare tires and tools. Spookily decorated houses, on the other hand, are made for creating lasting memories. I implore you to please resist trunk-or-treat events next year. Be afraid of them, be very afraid, because they are slowly killing Halloween, and that is truly scary.
November 10, 2026 @ 4:52 pm
Trunks Are No Treat
Halloween 2026 is behind us now, and so are the memories we didn’t make. That’s because there was nothing special about this year’s Halloween. It wasn’t spooky. It was just sad. Not too many years ago, it was common for more than 130 costumed kids to come through our neighborhood. This year we had eight. More on the reason for that decline in a moment.
Back when Pam and I first moved to Kernersville, we gave out plenty of candy to kids who lived on our street; meanwhile, parents from other areas of town would drive into our subdivision with vans full of excited youth in tow. I guess our block had a reputation for giving the best treats. Anyway, for several years in a row, I rigged up a scary, voice-activated genie by the front door. Pam would greet the kids as I hid inside, with a remote microphone, and conversed with each child. The genie frightened some of the kids, but they still asked for and received treats. We got to meet lots of families, and we had fun with the interactions.
It was reminiscent of Halloweens past when my buddies and I traversed the streets of Winston-Salem’s Knollwood Manor in the late 1950 s and early 1960s. One lady gave out homemade candy apples. Other women in the neighborhood made popcorn and baked cookies just for the occasion. Houses were elaborately decorated, and one even featured a haunted basement. By 1961, we were taught that Russia posed a nuclear threat to our neighborhood, so it was comforting when we came upon one house on Knollwood Street that had an honest-to-God bomb shelter.
In those days, I didn’t have money to purchase store-bought costumes, so Mom and Dad would dress me up using materials that we had in the house. My favorite was when they sent me out looking like a hobo (perhaps hoping I would hop a train and leave town). Upon returning to our house with a bag full of treats, I would take off my home-made costume, sort through the candy that I had collected, and settle in to watch horror movies on WSJS-TV (now WXII-TV). I remember those nights like it was yesterday, and I remember them fondly. So, what happened to the Halloween traditions that I grew up with? What happened to the 138 kids that Pam and I used to buy candy for? I’ll tell you what happened—trunk-or-effing-treat happened, that’s what happened.
Trunk-or-treat sprung up in the mid 1990s. The concept was simple. A church, school, or other organization would invite parents to decorate their cars, fill their trunks with candy, then drive their kids to a lighted parking lot where children could stroll from car to car and collect treats. Trunk-or-treat gatherings were thought to be a safe and convenient alternative to letting young children wander dark neighborhoods and do so without fear of tainted candy, sexual assault, or getting hit by a car while crossing the street. This sort of Halloween tailgating really took off during the COVID pandemic when personal interactions were deemed to be unhealthy. After that, trunk-or-treat continued to grow in popularity, and as it did, it diminished the number of kids who still went trick-or-treating in the traditional way.
We live in an era of helicopter parents who hover over their kids and teach them to be triggered by anything and everything. Yes, crossing the street at night to get from one house to another can be dangerous, but so can gathering in a parking lot where last year a motorist in Brooklyn accidentally drove into a trunk-or-treat crowd and injured six people. Besides, the parents of very young children who used to come to our house on Halloween always walked their kids to our door, then stood back to let them enjoy the moment.
When I was a kid, Halloween taught us that it was fun to dress up and visit houses where all sorts of people lived. In fact, our neighborhood was diverse before we knew what the word meant. On just our block alone, we had a Jewish family, a Greek family, and an Iranian family, and I collected treats from all of them. Back then, Halloween taught us how to be on our own, respect curfews, and appreciate folks of all genders, races, and religions. Compare that to the lessons that trunk-or-treat teaches kids. Joked comedian Jonnie W., “What we teach our kids now is that car trunks may be filled with delicious candy.” Call me crazy, but I thought car trunks were made to hold spare tires and tools. Spookily decorated houses, on the other hand, are made for creating lasting memories. I implore you to please resist trunk-or-treat events next year. Be afraid of them, be very afraid, because they are slowly killing Halloween, and that is truly scary.