The hallowed candy bowl

It was a wicker basket, roughly the size of a birthday sheet cake. The bags of bulk candy were placed next to it, awaiting the traditional layout to maximize space and presentation — an effort to be neither appreciated nor acknowledged by the first group of trick-or-treaters who would tear my efforts asunder in their desire to get to the Snickers faster.

I’m talking about the candy bowl of my youth — the basket that seemed to appear just before Halloween — taken from a cupboard where it rested in preparation for the biggest night of the year.

It is not necessarily a fancy bowl. In many cases, it’s simply the largest one you have. But the act of filling it and giving away the contents to your neighbors elevates that bowl’s status. If candy has a hope chest, this is it.