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As a product from NYC and 70's, I check every piece of candy to see if it looks like it was tampered with.
I remember the blackouts in the city too from that era.
No harm no foul.
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We used to bring along trashbags we would poke holes in and wear for when the eggs started to fly so our mom wouldn't discover the depths of our delinquency.
It was like the French and Indian War out there. Some poor kid always got his candy bag jacked and usually (cause his older brother was a friend) we would get together a collection of candy. If Donnie didn't stop crying he would hurt our haul for the night, so it was worth it I suppose. God forbid one of
those Moms would hear Donnie wail and then we would have to go home to drop him off...which meant we might not get back out!
It was hard to sort out the crappy candy for the blubbering waif under a wan street light but charity has always had costs associated with it. His older brother would settle the score at recess the next day with the candy robber. You hoped it hurt cause you were out candy- even if was those stupid wax lips or a mashed Baby Ruth. You had skin in the game, man.
My older brother used to favor costumes that had shields. He liked to paint a trashcan lid because it was metal and the sound an egg made when it hit was quite distinct. I think he went as Spiderman one year. Spiderman doesn't have a shield, but he should.