Then, of course, there was the year when I decided to wear a purple wizard’s robe (a younger, fatter, dumber Dumbledore, I guess,) and poor Tim Stevenson, father of one of the girl’s friends and occasional member of our trick or treat party, had the unfortunate task of being within five feet of the dork in the lavender satin robe.
The girl went as a Pac Man character one year — the chasing ghost, not the big yellow dot eater — and a woman shouted across the street, “Oh look, it’s an owl!” The boy insisted he get a store-bought, “real” costume one year and what did he choose? Leatherface from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” complete with a replica chainsaw that, by the end of the night, was sort of getting on the nerves of the other boy in his trick or treat party. When Emma went as Hermione from the Harry Potter series, it was a sweet moment when two teen-aged girls at a house on the corner of Center and Harrison recognized her — the first house who knew what her costume was — and talked to her for a few minutes about it.
Yeah, who needs good times and hanging out with fun people on a fall evening. OMG, how lame is it to walk around your neighborhood collecting FREE candy from people who see you and smile. Who needs the wonder of a custom rooted in spirits and evil but which now only manifests itself in giving, neighborliness and sugar?
Oh well. I guess it was fun while it lasted.