I think the last time I dressed in a costume for Halloween was back in the early 90s. I had quit my job to go to school full-time to earn my Bachelor’s Degree. I waited tables at a local, iconic, pizza restaurant and rented an apartment near campus. At 28, I was an older, non-traditional, student. Except for the inappropriate relationship one of my (married) professors wanted to engage in with me, a sometimes difficult and awkward situation because the department was small and I needed to take his classes, and an emotional meltdown when I turned 30 (remember, mom?), I loved everything about being a student – the pressure of getting my papers in on time, preparing for tests, studying for hours in a corner of the campus library.
Being the driven woman my mom and dad created, I earned my degree in 3 1/2 years; most of the kids took five. If I had known at the time, within a couple of years, I would wind up back in the same industry I retired from when I went to college, I may have taken those five years. Still, I had a blast. I was old enough to appreciate being there, mature enough to understand the sacrifices that come with working part-time while going to school full-time and serious enough to pull off good work.
I had a Halloween party during one of those college years. I went to a local thrift store, located on the 2nd floor, above a tire company, rifled through the vintage clothing racks. I don’t think I had a costume in mind but must have quickly put one together in my head when I saw the red, polyester, jumpsuit. A wig, false eyelashes, heavy blue eyeshadow and homemade headband and, voila, Cher.
Old friends, and new, came to the party. We had a mobster and his moll, a skeleton, mime and some crazy get-ups made with face paint, rubber masks and wild wigs. One guy, who came as a streaker (remember those), wore a trench coat over boxers and flashed us all night. I’m guessing I served pizza although I don’t remember.
I don’t think I’ve dressed up for a party since. By the time I graduated college I had met my future husband and had set up house. Instead of going to parties I stayed home to dole out candy to the kids ringing our doorbell. I’ll be home with the bowl of candy again this year. My neighborhood is popular for trick or treating; we have sidewalks and small lots so the houses are close to each other. One sweep up and down a few streets nets a decent amount of candy.
Sunday, we’re hosting Bill’s family for lunch, and we’ll share photos of our recent trip. Hopefully, any leftover candy will be offered to our guests and will not have been consumed by me the night before.
Lucky for us, we’ll be turning back the clocks to give us an extra hour to