It was 1960, I believe, and was easily the most memorable Halloween this Midwestern boy had ever experienced.
When it was all over, I had established myself as King Oh Henry, and no one tried to dispute the moniker. No how. No way. I'd earned it and had the fillings to prove it.
But I'm getting ahead of myself and you deserve better. The story of that historic Oct. 31 went something like this:
It was a simpler time - perhaps a more naive time would be more accurate. Unlike the Halloween standards of today when kids are forbidden, and rightfully so, from wearing any type of mask that can obstruct their vision and trick-or-treating is done under the supervision of an adult, such was not the case a half century or so ago. Not by a long shot.
The vast majority of "treaters" donned Halloween costumes their parents had picked out for them at the local "Five and Dime" store: The less-intimidating version of our modern-day Walmart, Target, Costco or any other big-box retailer that comes to mind.
They were usually made out of some kind of cheap, thin plastic and if you didn't have one, you were considered an outcast and pretty much shunned by the Halloween elite who showed up as Roy Rogers, or Mickey Mouse, or Tony the Tiger, or Dracula, or Frankenstein, or the Lone Ranger, or Tarzan ... well, you get the idea.
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