The cool early autumn weather is refreshing. Fall festivals proliferate, and store shelves are teeming with fun sized candy bars. Kids bounce around party stores like pinballs trying to decide which Halloween costume to buy.
As a child growing up in the 50s, I don't recall having store bought costumes. I'm not sure if that's because there were no extra funds for something so frivolous, or because it was before prefab costumes were readily available.
Two weeks before Halloween, my brothers and I rummaged through the 'rag bag' searching for treasures we could miraculously transform into costumes. I dreamed of being a princess, but usually ended up dressing like a hobo or witch. One year, my brother, Robert, and I were particularly creative and dressed as Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae.
Halloween night was as exciting as Christmas Eve. Waiting for the sun to go down was interminable torture. When Mama gave us the “go ahead” we bolted from the door running from house to house anticipating the plunder we would drag home in our bags.
We squealed and ran among the predictable collection of monsters, pirates, ghosts, and cowboys. A favorite among the boys was The Lone Ranger with their black masks, duel holsters and shiny six guns by their sides. They wisely carried an extra roll of paper caps, just in case a bad guy might be lurking around a dark corner.
With the following days came the inescapable tummy ache from lollipops, Tootsie Rolls, and handfuls of candy corn.
A few years passed and we were told we were too old to Trick-or-Treat. So, we graduated to parties sponsored by youth groups, the school, or church. The hay ride was fun and we still got to dress up and play games. Boys daring their friends to walk through a cemetery, and chasing girls with rubber mice were among their favorite Halloween activities.
Then we became teenagers, and way too cool to wear costumes. We danced to "The Monster Mash" in the high school gym or church fellowship hall decorated with spider webs, pumpkins, hay bales, and black paper bats. We stuffed ourselves with sandwiches, and candy apples, and drank punch from a black witches' cauldron. After the party we walked home and weren’t at all surprised to see the grumpy neighbors' house had been TPed! (That will show him what happens when he yells at kids for taking a short cut across his yard.)
More years passed, and now I am the one opening the door to Spiderman, Fairy princesses, Barbie, G.I. Joe, Harry Potter, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all begging me to stuff candy into their hungry plastic orange pumpkins.
As a child growing up in the 50s, I don't recall having store bought costumes. I'm not sure if that's because there were no extra funds for something so frivolous, or because it was before prefab costumes were readily available.
Two weeks before Halloween, my brothers and I rummaged through the 'rag bag' searching for treasures we could miraculously transform into costumes. I dreamed of being a princess, but usually ended up dressing like a hobo or witch. One year, my brother, Robert, and I were particularly creative and dressed as Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae.
Halloween night was as exciting as Christmas Eve. Waiting for the sun to go down was interminable torture. When Mama gave us the “go ahead” we bolted from the door running from house to house anticipating the plunder we would drag home in our bags.
We squealed and ran among the predictable collection of monsters, pirates, ghosts, and cowboys. A favorite among the boys was The Lone Ranger with their black masks, duel holsters and shiny six guns by their sides. They wisely carried an extra roll of paper caps, just in case a bad guy might be lurking around a dark corner.
With the following days came the inescapable tummy ache from lollipops, Tootsie Rolls, and handfuls of candy corn.
A few years passed and we were told we were too old to Trick-or-Treat. So, we graduated to parties sponsored by youth groups, the school, or church. The hay ride was fun and we still got to dress up and play games. Boys daring their friends to walk through a cemetery, and chasing girls with rubber mice were among their favorite Halloween activities.
Then we became teenagers, and way too cool to wear costumes. We danced to "The Monster Mash" in the high school gym or church fellowship hall decorated with spider webs, pumpkins, hay bales, and black paper bats. We stuffed ourselves with sandwiches, and candy apples, and drank punch from a black witches' cauldron. After the party we walked home and weren’t at all surprised to see the grumpy neighbors' house had been TPed! (That will show him what happens when he yells at kids for taking a short cut across his yard.)
More years passed, and now I am the one opening the door to Spiderman, Fairy princesses, Barbie, G.I. Joe, Harry Potter, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all begging me to stuff candy into their hungry plastic orange pumpkins.
