More Truth About Halloween

Just a week ago, I published my little essay coming clean about being a Halloween grinch. (If you haven’t read it and you have access to my blog site, you should stop reading this now and read “The Truth About Halloween” before you go any further with this piece.) One of my church members was deeply touched by my confession. He and his wife had taken their kids trick-or-treating the night before. Some of the homes they visited insisted on giving candy to the parents as well as the children. “I scored a couple of PayDays,” Brett wrote on Facebook, “I’ll give you one of them.”

I was really disappointed when he didn’t show up at church Sunday. Inexplicably, he let weekend training with the Air Force National Guard take priority over bringing me that candy bar. Just as I was about to give his wife, Stacey, an earful about it, she said, “Oh, Doc, Brett gave me something to give to you.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out the biggest PayDay candy bar I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t one of those “fun size” or “we know you’re too cheap to really give out candy on Halloween” sizes; this was one of those ultra king size take this home, get out the carving knife and feed your family sizes. That candy bar was so huge I even gave Randa a couple of pieces of it. Small pieces. Very small pieces. But, hey, I did share. Turned out I would have more opportunity for that.

On Tuesday of this week, as Randa and I pulled into the driveway after work, we stopped by the mailbox. Along with the usual stack of immediate recycling, there was a small flat rate box. It was heavy. I figured Randa had ordered another horse book of some kind. Turns out, this box is addressed to me.

So, after we got inside, I figured I’d take a look and see what it was I’d forgotten I’d ordered from Amazon or eBay or wherever. Randa stopped me, “Freeda wants me to get a picture of you opening that.”

Freeda is my oldest sister with a long history of humor and creativity. “What now?” I wondered. “A book on growing up, dealing with disappointment and how to get over yourself?” As soon as Randa was ready with her camera, I proceeded with the investigation.

I opened the end flap and saw a few tiny rolls of something like SweetTarts and a couple more pieces of something. I would have given more attention and memory but the rest of the contents overwhelmed those small omens. There were five PayDays, three 3 Musketeers, one full-size Butterfinger and one huge mamma jamma Butterfinger. Somehow I managed to control my outburst of laughing long enough to hold up that humongous candy bar so Randa could get a picture. Only my sister could fit five pounds of candy into a one-pound box!!

Turns out, confession is not only good for the soul, it’s also good for the sweet tooth! I can’t wait to see how folks respond to my Christmas essay.

H. Arnett
11/8/13

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About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Blair, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-five years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-one grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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