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| First Ever Blog |
| October 1, 2025 What is your favorite Halloween memory? I have never been a fan of Halloween. As a youngster, even in grade 6, I was pretty much a loner. I had a serious sugar craving, but generally stayed as far from chocolate as possible. I’d seen its explosive reactions on so many preteen and teen faces. So I was quite content to settle into my shared bedroom and construct whatever with Lincoln Logs and several Erector Sets. My mother wasn’t. She insisted I go out Trick or Treating. When I said I had no costume, she grabbed a 3x5 card, printed PRESS on it in big bold letters, stuck it in the hatband of one of my dad’s fedoras, and plopped it on my head. Then she threw me out. Keep in mind this was the late 1950s when suburban kids roamed the streets with no parents in sight. I latched onto a group with some familiar faces and figured I’d just tag along. It was fine. Then there came some popping noises from two blocks away followed by lots of screaming and shouting. (Unfortunately, these days you’d automatically think gunfire. But no, it was the 50s.) We all recognized it immediately as eggs hitting windshields and metal autobody parts. It was over in a few minutes. Apparently some kids from that area had successfully targeted a Chevy with a couple of high school boys. We just laughed and moved to the next house. When we got to the area of the egging, two cars turned into our street. Before they reached us the popping and splatting noises began, quite loud now. About a dozen teen boys leapt from the cars to chase down the culprits. Young kids were screaming and running in every direction. I just stood on the spot. (Too many early experiences had taught me if you run and get caught, the punishment was worse.) A pair of girls were speeding in my direction just ahead of three teens when one of them tripped sliding face first along someone’s front lawn. I knelt to help her when the older kids rushed up. The girl rolled over and eyed the teens. “Touch me and my brother Anthony will kill you,” she yelled. “Kelly and I weren’t throwing any eggs, so you can keep chasing those other kids.” She turned her head indicating where some of the kids could still be seen. One of the angry teens clearly recognized her. “Yeah, that’s Tony D’s kid sister. She’s okay. What about you?” he looked daggers at me. I opened the handles on my candy bag, holding it out for him to see. “No eggs, and not much candy either,” I said. “C’mon let’s go,” he chuckled, and they took off back to the chase. I had recognized the girl as soon as she’d rolled over on the ground. Teresa D’Angelo. Prettiest girl in my class and maybe in the entire sixth grade. I helped her to her feet and she smiled while brushing the grass off her princess costume. “Thanks, Kelly. Darn, I lost my candy collection.” “Here.” I handed her mine. “It would’ve gone straight to the trash at my house.” “I know,” she laughed, flashing a dazzling smile. “It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” Then she lunged forward and hugged me, planted a kiss on my cheek, then let go. “I gotta find my friends. See you in class, Kel.” When I got home, my mother asked where my loot was. I said, “I gave it away. It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” And I went to my room, very confused and ambivalent about how I now felt about Halloween. It turns out that was the only happy Halloween I ever had. These days I try to find a library that’s open late that night, or someplace else I can hide until it’s over. |
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