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He waited, handcuffed to the bed.

There were other homemade costumes as well such as hobos (what we fondly called homeless men in those lost days) or princesses made with crowns from scraps of old tin foil wrapped around cardboard. But whatever the costume, it was always proudly reflected and perfected in front of the large mirror in the living room for all to see.

In many ways though the seventies were also a turbulent time of transition into this modern world in which we find ourselves. I must have been about nine or ten the year that our church began to have its annual Halloween carnival. It did so because of the stories in the news about razor blades or poisons found hidden in candy. How much of that was urban myth I do not know, but it was frightening enough for the adults in my world to do away with candied apples, popcorn balls and homemade cookies. Instead we dressed in our homemade costumes and headed to our ornately decorated church.

It was a relatively new building with dozens of classrooms; each was decorated and filled with something for children. There was the fishing game where candy magically appeared upon your pole when you tossed it behind the curtained alcove. There were also traditional Halloween games such as bobbing for apples or the gypsy that would tell your fortune. You could even win a whole cake for your family at the cake walk. For the older children and teens, there was even a haunted house with peeled grapes for eye balls, jell-o for brains and corn syrup with red food colouring for blood. Overall, the night was just as magical as those door-to-door Trick-or-Treating adventures had been.

I was loathing to outgrow this tradition. As a teen, I would help out with the annual carnival at church. Of course, my rebellious brother was more likely to get into some mischief with his friends that put the 'trick' into Trick-or-Treat. But those tricks were limited to egging or toilet papering houses of neighbours who might have committed some slight during the previous year; mild by today's standards I suppose.

With the notable exception of the time early in my older children's lives that we were in a radical church that preached everything to do with Halloween was of the devil, I have tried with limited success as a mother to re-create those magical memories for my own children. Being the free thinker that I am, I quickly disposed of those teachings as ridiculous and re-instated the traditions of my own childhood. I would dress them in homemade costumes that mirrored those of own childhood.

I remember the year that I was studying for my certification as an emergency medical technician. I raided my first aid kit and wrapped each of them in bandages. Then using charcoal and that magical mixture of corn syrup and red food dye from my own childhood, I created elaborate bruises and cuts all over them. We tore up old clothes for that added touch. Then I sent them out with my ex-husbeast as I donned my own costume of a clown. I sat on our well-lit front porch with bags of goodies, homemade cookies and punch as well as balloons by the score. I gave out over one hundred bags that Halloween and each of my four children returned with their father heavy laden with candy. We were living in a small Texas town at the time and it was a close to my own childhood memories as we ever got.

I have struggled more with my younger two children.

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