Everyone knows that there’s good candy and bad candy.

The knowledge that enables every child to distinguish between a Milky Way and a Starlight Mint is innate. You’re born with this sense — something from the depths of your brain calls to you. It guides your hand to the good pieces.

You master the force. You consider your older sibling as your own personal Yoda. They coach you.

They guide you.

They encourage you.

Okay, okay.

So they just trick you into giving them all your good candy, then trade you for the rest of the good stuff they couldn’t get their greasy little hands on for their really bad candy, making you think the whole time that you’re doing the right thing.

“Of course,” your greedy sister would say. “You can give me that awful Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. I don’t want you to have any of that gross candy.

“I’ll just trade you for this balloon. You can do more things with it anyway. Yeah, yeah.

“That’s it. Balloons last a lot longer than any kind of food. It’s definitely worth more.”

The trade would go down and the confusion would set in.

But after a few years of experience in the wonderful world of sweets, you master the force on your own.

No more of those peanut butter gross things in the orange and black wax paper.

No more watching and wondering, hey, how did my sister get all the Snickers and all I’m stuck with a measly pack of Sprees, a marshmallow and a really old piece of candy corn that’s still stuck to my Casper the Ghost trick-or-treat bucket?

After a few more bountiful hauls from Halloweens come and gone, you learn the art of separation.

The separation, first of the good from the bad. Then you learn how to form “The Groups.”

There’s the “candy bar” group which is composed of, but not limited to, all candy bars, tasty peanut butter cups and most chocolate-covered goodies.

This is usually the best group.

People who can get great candy mileage can ration this group well into the middle of November.

I would consider them candy experts — definite masters of the art of Halloween.

Other groups include the “Tootsie Roll” group, the chocolate kind and the frootsie kind; the “good gum” group, which includes PAL gum and cherry gum dingers; and the “miscellaneous” group, which includes any good candy that doesn’t belong in the above mentioned groups.

Knowing the art of good trick-or-treating tactics aids in bringing in good booty. Always have a plan. Learn which houses give out whole candy bars. Scout the neighborhoods.

Interrogate smaller ghosts and goblins out on the street who have been in the action already.

Many of you may have moved on from the days of separating your candy or even going out trick-or-treating at all.

I haven’t.

I love dressing up. This year I have two costumes — “Lady Pirate” and “Buffy, the 80s Girl.” Kim and I already rocked Des Moines last weekend.

Now it’s time for Ames.

I love trick-or-treating for candy. And I also love the activities that go on a little later on in the night.

One Halloween in a sleepy little Iowa town, we rounded up over 50 rolls of toilet paper, graciously donated from area businesses’ bathrooms, and formed the Toilet Paper Bandelleros.

We headed over to our neighboring high school rival and began strategic attacks on our enemies’ homes with the good ol’ white stuff.

AHHH! Life was good then. We completed the job with a smoke bomb and headed out of town and to the nearest graveyard. By the way, this is all fictional.

At least that’s what our story was when one of our star athletes blew out his knee running away from our T.P. masterpiece. Long live the Toilet Paper Bandelleros.

Another great thing about Halloween is scaring the crap out of people.

I learned from one of the best — my father. He used to dress up as a scarecrow and sit out on the front porch like he was fake.

After the kids got their candy from our front door, my dad would jump up and scream.

It was more like a roar, and the kids had a look of horror on their faces I’ll never forget. Priceless memories.

One thing makes me sad nowadays, though, is that it seems the Halloween you and I remember is no more.

When I was in high school, they started Halloween Fun Nite instead of good old-fashioned, door-to-door begging for candy. No more walking around the neighborhood with your friends or your dad.

It was walk to the softball field and play stupid carnival games and get the bad candy — and I mean the really bad candy.

It’s sad, really, that we don’t have enough trust in our neighbors to be able to walk with our kids, letting them enjoy a real marker in childhood memories.

Thinking back on all these memories, legal or not, brings a smile to my face. So does good candy. Ooh.

I’m late for trick-or-treating.

Happy Halloween.

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April Samp is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Eldora.