I have said many times how much I dislike the whole Halloween thing.

When I was a kid, living in LaSalette we dressed up in whatever Mom had hiding in her saving trunk or what she could make up out of it. We were scarecrows with hay sticking out our arms, old, fat farmers with pillows in our overhauls, grand ladies with many crinolines under huge skirts or pirates with patches over one eye and ripped pants with cardboard swords. Sometimes we dressed up as nuns or clowns or cowboys.

Whatever we turned into we added to it by covering our hair, adding make up, burned cork or a bandana to our faces and we traipsed door to door, not speaking so as not to give ourselves way, waiting patiently for our apple, homemade cookie or fudge and occasionally a few candy kisses thrown in for good measure, while each person tried to guess who we were.

“Blaine, come........

© Sarnia Observer