If you grew up in the country, you know how dedicated you had to be to get a full pillowcase of candy on Halloween. We're not talking about all those lucky kids who lived in town and could walk on actual sidewalks on streets filled with houses. For country kids, trick-or-treating is an extreme sport.

First of all, you had to convince your parents to let you go out. Back in the day, they weren't about to drive you anywhere, so you were on your own. This meant a stout hike to the nearest neighbor's house, probably a long walk down a dark driveway and a hopeful knock on the door. If there was an answer, you were in for some candy or perhaps a homemade cookie. Either was fine.

Then it was back down to the road and a ramble to the next house.

My siblings and I were sort of lucky because if we walked down the hill in front of our house we could hit the houses on the way down and end up at our Grandma's house, which was a safe bet for donuts and cider.

Or we could brave a trek up Route 97 and head up to the Del-Vue development, where there were lots of houses on just a few streets, and we would see a lot of our friends.

We may have had a flashlight for protection, but there was no such thing as glow-sticks or reflective stripes on clothing. We were on our own.

Of course there were always the “bad” kids who caused havoc with shaving cream and toilet papered the trees while throwing eggs at each other. We tried to stay out of their way.

Then it was time for the walk back home and the examination of our haul. Remember these were those dark days when people were still handing out apples and loose pretzels as treats. ‘Twas a different time, my pets. Anything chocolate was the most cherished. We'd swap whatever we didn't like with a younger sibling, using our most sophisticated psychological techniques of persuasion, and then try to hide our stash of sweets in a place inaccessible to others. You didn't want to leave it too long, though. Tootsie Rolls and Bazooka Joe bubble gum get harder than rocks in no time.

It was tough times then, my friends. Costumes came in a box from the drug store (Casper the Friendly Ghost was a favorite), apples were still considered an acceptable treat, and no one x-rayed your candy. We were on our own, and yet we prevailed, wandering lonely country lanes in search of empty calories and giving work to a generation of dentists.

Extreme trick-or-treating built character and—dare I say it—grit!