Very few trick-or-treaters come to our house. We live on a short little dead-end street, right off a main route, which is full of whizzing cars and dotted with strip malls and fast food joints. I’m waiting for the doorbell to ring, and trying to remember all the halloween costumes I wore as a kid. Here’s a partial list.
- Casper the Friendly Ghost – I can still remember how the mask made my face all steamy.
- Geisha – wearing an authentic kimono that someone had given my parents. Probably purchased by a drunken sailor at a cheap souvenior shop, during liberty in some Asian port. Like most families, we had our share of drunken sailors.
- Birthday Present – my own creation, a large box, covered in shiny yellow and red wrapping paper, with holes for my arms and a giant bow on my head. It was hard to move my arms. In fact, that was the year some big kid stole by pumpkin full of candy. I was the perfect target, utterly defenseless.
- Princess – another plastic ’70s mask and sweaty face. Much like the masks worn at Fenway earlier this year.
- Statue of Liberty – a green sheet, a handmade paper torch, and a Burger King crown wrapped in tin foil.
- Cowardly Lion – a “real” costume, with a swinging tail and a furry mane, sewn by my Aunt Mary, worn the year before by my cousin Steven.
- Gypsy – many scarves, a lacy shawl, peasant skirt, hoop earrings and bangles.
- Baseball Player – my cousin Steven’s old little league uniform. Much, much too big for me.
Hey, there’s a knock on the door! Gotta run. Happy Halloween!