Halloween

October 31st was my favorite day of the year. The week preceeding Halloween was filled with the planning, then making of a costume, carefully plotting out the most efficient candy routes, and listening to mom tell us at least twice a day which houses we must not visit.
When I was 5 and my sister was 6, we dressed as gypsies. We didn't tell jokes, we had a little chant instead. "We are gypsies, young and bold. Would you like your fortune told? Simply cross our palms with gold." I can't believe I still remember that, 29 years later.
Over the years, my sister and I have dressed as many odd things. Bloody ghosts (red wax on an old white sheet), pumpkins, hippies, ghouls, you name it -we probably tried to be it. Mom vetoed most of our costume ideas as being too revealing, like the year I found her old suede miniskirt. She shot that one down really fast. She pulled out a long sleeved monstrosity for me to wear in it's place, then had fits because it was form-fitting. That year I wound up dressing as a bunch of grapes. Mom was really trying to ignore the fact that I had developed a figure. My sister on the other hand, got to dress as a mummy. J was a small B cup, whereas I was a very full C. So J got to wrap herself in crepe paper, while I got stuck with purple balloons safety pinned all over a leotard. I felt really stupid, but it made Mom happy, so Fruit Of The Loom I was. (sigh)

Trick or treating was a 3 hour affair for us. We'd hit California, travel west on Magnolia, turn north on Nebraska, east on Sidney, then head for Grandma's neighborhood. Some of the people near Grandma gave out fabulous candy. There was one house, over on Texas, that gave out an entire lunchbag of nifty stuff. The problem was in digging up the courage to fetch it. The house was a standard 2-story flat-roofed rectangle. It was surrounded by thorn bushes, with a little brick path leading to the house. The whole place was shrouded in darkness, except for one tiny outdoor light on the second floor. The only way to reach that minuscule beacon of safety was a rickety iron staircase. It was probably meant as a fire escape. At the top of the stairs, set in the doorway was a box full of lunch bags, and a sign reading, "Take one, please." It was worth every ounce of adrenaline when we opened the bag and saw full sized Hershey bars, whole handfulls of Brach's caramels, and usually a shiny red apple. The year I was grapes, I fell into the thorn bushes, and popped all the ballons on my butt and side. So for the rest of my trick or treating, I was a half eaten bunch of grapes.

The next year, I dressed as a vampiress. I wore my friend's red velvet ball gown, and she wore my mom's black velvet dress with silver buttons. Note to the unwise -cleavage does not get you more candy.
We were heading home for our parents to check our candy haul, when a cop car came cruising slowly up the street.

-Let me break here to explain a bit about St. Louis City cops in the 1980's... Prostitution was rampant in our neighborhood. The cops would "arrest" the prostitutes, but let them go half and hour later when they had gotten a freebie. Also, most of the people in my neighborhood had been arrested at one time or another, so nobody really trusted the police. They were never there when you needed them, they didn't keep the streets safe, and they'd bust you for looking at them -if they thought you had enough cash on hand to bribe them.-

So, when the cops stopped along side us, my friend was shaking with fear. I told her the cops were the good guys, they wouldn't hurt us. She didn't believe me so I said I'd do the talking. It went like this:
cops- How you doing tonight?
me- Fine. How are you?
cops- Isn't it a bit late to be out walking the streets?
me- It's not even 9 o'clock.
cops- you're a bit old to be trick or treating... I think you're doing business. You know, we don't put up with that kind of shit around here, so why don'y you two just put your pretty asses in the car? (cop then goes to open his door)
At this point (always thinking on my feet, I am) I walk up to the car, lean over so they get a good look at my cleavage and say,
me: You think we're prostitutes? I'm 13 years old! So unless you want to see how fast my mom can press charges for statutory rape, you'd better move on!
cops: I don't believe you.
me: Well, my mom is standing right there (pointing to mom, 4 houses away and moving toward us) So why don't you ask her?
cops: We'll do that.
Then they drove away.
I was outraged. Mom was outraged when I told her, too.
Of course, my friend had a way of drawing trouble, and eventually I learned that the best way to avoid trouble was to be where she wasn't.