- November 17, 2025
Maverick, Mike, Sabrina, Brielle and Aubry Bubnis. Photo by Brian McMillan
Ted and Jennifer Wislocki, Allie Siena, Kelli McDonald and Mike McDonald, with their Minions. Photo by Brian McMillan
Christian and Atlas Graham, and Lauriah Hoilman. Photo by Brian McMillan
Londun Taylor, Tara Wright, Journeii Harrison, Aiden Jackson, Madyson Taylor, Trina Jackson, Kiara Jackson and Nevaeh Black. Photo by Brian McMillan
Peter Chuon, Davika Chuon, Yvonne Mitchell and Alex Aleksic. Photo by Brian McMillan
Seth and Emily Fay try to figure out whether they prefer the number 6, or the number 7, after the Parkview Church trunk or treat. Photo by Brian McMillan
Dylan Hammerle and Kaitlyn McBride help pass out candy at Parkview Church. Photo by Brian McMillan
In our minivan, on the way to the Parkview Church trunk or treat, I explained the concept of the parent tax to my three youngest children.
“Twenty percent of the candy that you actually like,” I said, “plus 100% of all the candy you don’t like.”
Hearing groans of protests, I reinforced my rule with an iron fist: “And I get to take whatever I want after bed time.”
My wife, Hailey, turned to our children to reassure them that my views were not in harmony with societal mores. She said, “That’s not a parent tax, that's parent thievery.”
I was shocked at such a rebuke, so I did some self reflection, and I resolved to try another way. I came up with the idea of picking up garbage candy, or as I now like to call it, gleaning.
Gleaning is an ancient practice in which it was acceptable for anyone to harvest leftover or damaged crops after the owners or professionals were done. Dumpster diving is a modern, urban comparison to gleaning.
Now we can add "parking lot scavenging" to the list. Not only do I get candy, but it also cleans up the place. Nothing goes to waste.
As we snaked through the trunk or treat — checking out the Star Wars-themed trunks; a football referee; Jurassic Park; and my favorite, a 1980s TV workout guru — I did my best to collect all the candy that had fallen to the ground. In fact, I didn’t see most of the trunk decorations because I was concentrating so hard on gleaning.
First, I found a Tootsie Roll, and it was no Midgie; we’re talking the three-inch-long variety. Delicious.
Of course, not all candies were pristine. I hesitated after examining one misshapen Vanilla Midgie, since it had clearly been stepped on. But I peeled off the wrapper, and didn’t see any rocks or sand flecks. I ate it, and I was correct: No crunch. Just pure vanilla smoothness.
The most common candy to be dropped, or possibly discarded on purpose (that’s called littering, people), was the Jolly Rancher Chew. But I didn’t mind. Every flavor tasted great.
There was one pink piece of candy that had been pancaked so many times that I couldn’t tell what it was. I decided to leave that one alone.
But, I also decided to change my approach for the greater good: I started also picking up the empty wrappers, even though there would be no sweet payoff.
I was inspired throughout by the number of people who made the event possible. Volunteers or church staff, at Parkview and at similar events around town, spent hours on logistics, including greeting visitors and restocking trunks with candy so that no child would be disappointed by — the horror! — an empty bucket at a trunk.
At the end of the night, I had had my fill, and for anyone who knows me, that means I got a lot of candy. I even declined to enforce the parent tax. (It’s still possible that thievery could happen in the coming days.)
