From Candy to Community: "Costco Halloween" for 1,600 Detroiters

I moved to the University District, next to Palmer Park, two Halloweens ago. My neighbors told me to buy at least 400 pieces of candy, and I thought they were insane. We’re lucky if we see a single kid walking the block on a normal day. But, of course, I didn’t listen. I bought 600 pieces.

At 5:00 p.m., not a single kid was in sight. By 5:30, I was bending over so hundreds of toddlers could choose their favorite chocolate. Six hundred wasn’t even close to enough. Even after an emergency drop-off of 200 more pieces, I was cleaned out in minutes.

Inspired by the sheer volume of people who showed up at my door, my unwavering love for Detroit and my neighborhood — and an art degree I don’t get to use often — I started brainstorming.

Though Make Detroit Home, I spend my days helping people find houses here, but this was about something deeper: making Detroit truly feel like home for everyone, even if just for one night.

Where the Idea Began

One of the toughest realities about living in Detroit is access to resources. We don’t have grocery stores strategically placed throughout the city. Of the 74 grocery stores in Detroit, only three are names you’d recognize and trust. A significant portion of our population relies on gas stations or corner stores for food. Those lucky enough to own a car and afford Detroit’s sky-high insurance and gas can make it out of the city to reach larger chain stores.

Roughly a third of Detroit households face food insecurity, and in some neighborhoods, it’s substantially higher. This reality sits really heavy with me.

We all know the feeling of wanting to help, but too often the systems designed to “help” are so slow or layered that the impact gets diluted before it reaches the people who need it most. So instead of partnering through an agency or nonprofit, I decided to skip the middleman. I asked myself: How could Halloween here help address food insecurity without turning it into a formal charity event?

Costco Halloween

Costco creates an atmosphere of abundance through simple tactics: free samples, almost-free hot dogs and those legendary rotisserie chickens. Everyone leaves happy and full.

After some thought, I realized that riffing on Costco — with spooky scenery instead of florescent lighting — could bring the same excitement to trick-or-treating. And just like that, Costco Halloween was born.

My friends and I built a pathway through my yard using half wood pallets that a local manufacturer was scrapping. We dug out caution tape (from an estate sale) and blow-up Halloween decorations from my basement. We redesigned the path over and over for the best flow, because when you’re ballin’ on a budget, the trick is to use what’s free and what you already have lying around.

We planned three stations: a table handing out hand-screenprinted canvas Make Detroit Home candy bags (often kids showed up with a flimsy plastic bag or no bag at all), a candy table, and a hot dog station.

Our house already has a reputation for giving out potatoes (long story), so of course we had to include them. I borrowed a shopping cart and filled it with 180 pounds of potatoes, which fit the “Costco” theme perfectly. I even made an “AT&T Salesperson” hat for the person handing them out.

How the Week Unfolded

Friday (October 24): I had hand-screenprinted 100 of 1,500 candy bags. My friends were convinced there was no way I’d finish in time.

Sunday: My Cricut broke, taking my stencil plans down with it.

Monday: My new friends at Gordon Food Service in Clawson ordered all the hot dogs, buns, and condiments for Friday pickup.

Tuesday through Thursday: Screen printing was back up and running — print, dry, repeat — every waking minute.

Friday: Pickup day. I grabbed the hot dogs and prepped everything for the big night. By 4:30, all of my “Team Members” arrived and started selecting roles. By 5:30, we were live.

Then chaos, in the best way.

Going Grassroots

Detroit is filled with generous people and dedicated nonprofits, but the truth is, organizations can sometimes slow things down. I don’t need permission to care. I don’t need 501(c)(3) status to help feed my neighbors.

By cutting out the administrative layer, every dollar I spent went directly into food and experience, not paperwork. Every volunteer hour went into service, not compliance. It was messy, fast, grassroots, and deeply human.

There’s something powerful about seeing this kind of impact in real time — from watching a child pick out their favorite candy to seeing the smile on a parent’s face when we offered them a hot dog too. The immediacy of the happiness, thank-yous, and laughter reminded me that community work doesn’t have to be complicated; it just has to get done.

“Team Members”

Costco calls its employees Team Members, but I think even they could learn a thing or two from us. Halloween wouldn’t have happened without a small army of people dropping everything for my crazy idea. For most people, it’s hard enough to picture 100 kids showing up for trick-or-treating, let alone 1,600. My community rallied around me and blessed this idea.

Neighbors lent crockpots and turkey roasters through my local Buy Nothing Facebook group. People donated money for supplies without me even asking. Friends helped cook, serve, and hand out food. An artist friend used their talents to make signs and spooky table scenes to set the mood and keep everyone safe.

The bag distributors earned constant compliments early on; everyone really appreciated the handmade element. It was so busy that we even had to recruit more folks to greet everyone at the entrance (no membership card scanning) and direct foot traffic.

As AT&T Guy, my brother distributed new iPhones, except they were potatoes. And the hair-netted condiment lady was touched when a sixth grader told her how grateful she was for the hot dog because she hadn’t eaten since school.

Every person who came to help made the impossible not only possible but joyful. This is exactly the why behind community-focused events: smiles, laughter, and shared joy.

Detroit is Home

That night, I didn’t just see kids in costumes; I saw a neighborhood come alive. It felt like Make Detroit Home in action; Detroit, vibrant, proud and resourceful, proving once again that we can take care of our own. One creative idea and a little Costco energy turned candy night into community night.

So yes, one night, one neighborhood, and 1,600 served might seem small compared to the need citywide, especially with the lingering uncertainty about November’s federal food assistance. But for those families, it mattered. And for me, it reinforced something I already knew:

Small acts multiply fast when they’re rooted in love.