Deborah Jones Sherwood
  • Welcome
  • Valentine's Day
  • *Sparking Joy
  • *ZOOMING ALONG
  • *The Elderly Lady Next Door
  • Me & Mr. K
  • *Home Alone
  • *Ain't no way to Treat a Lady
  • *Dawdlers and Tiaras
  • *Everything I Know about Christmas, I Learned from the Hallmark Channel
  • *The Holiday Letter
  • Christmas in the '50s
  • My 2018 Christmas Letter
  • *Silent Night
  • The Man in the Red Plaid Shirt
  • *'Tis the Season to be......Scary!
  • Happy Halloween!
  • My Birthday Fundraiser
  • *The SEND Button and Other Regrets
  • Oh, Maury!
  • Who You Gonna Call?
  • ...and the winner is.....
  • Remembering Annie
  • *Stacation in the Hood
  • My Day as a NIH Lab Rat
  • *Blithe Summer
  • *Never Buy Fish from the Clearance Bin and other Sage Advice
  • *Four and Twenty Blackbirds
  • Spring! When an Old Man's Fancy turns to Thoughts of ....Home Projects
  • Oh, Crap. Another Birthday.
  • There's No Cool like an Old Cool
  • Happy New Year!
  • Mooning the Baptists on Easter Sunday
  • Bye, Bye, Bonnie
  • *When I'm Sixty-Four
  • *Take me out to the Ballgame...please?
  • Honor Flight
  • "But you don't look sick."
  • Are you an Old Geezer with an Extra Nats Ticket?
  • Are you the Goat who kicked me in the Head?
  • *Oh! The Places You'll Go!
  • *You Go, Girl!
     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 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, G.I. Joe, Harry Potter, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all begging me to stuff candy into their hungry plastic orange pumpkins.