Spirits walk tonight. The veil between the living and the dead is lifted. Sounds echo in the darkness. Fallen leaves crackle under foot. Beams of light from houses radiate in the darkness. Happy Halloween!

I remember being impatient waiting to go trick or treating. My mother was the gatekeeper. The early darkness was deceitful. We’d ask over and over again if it was time. We’d sit in our costumes and wait. Finally, after dinner, she’d let us loose. We carried pillow slips hoping to fill them. We’d start in the neighborhood then go beyond. We knew the houses which always had nickel bars. We also knew the houses which had apples and popcorn balls. Sometimes we’d get pennies or even a nickel pushed into an apple so the apples got checked. They never got eaten. At first all the houses had their outside lights on, invitations to stop and trick or treat. The sidewalks were filled with ghosts, hoboes and cowboys, some in store bought costumes. Ours were always homemade. We went far and wide, but as the night got older, houses went dark. Fewer ghosts and goblins walked the streets. It was time to head home.

At home, we sit on the floor and go through our candy treasures. We opened all the little bags and make three piles, keepers, traders and tosses. The keepers went into big bowls. The traders were negotiated. The tosses were the apples, the popcorn 1and the candy corn. They unceremoniously went into the trash in the kitchen. We’d watch a little TV, mostly the old horror movies like Dracula, The Mummy and Frankenstein, and eat candy. When my mother sent us to bed, we’d take our bowls with us. Mine went under my bed.

All Saints’ Day is the day after Halloween. It is what’s called a holy day of obligation. We didn’t have school, only the public schools did. We had to go to mass, a small price to pay for a free day and a bowl of candy.

Today is beautiful and warm. It will stay sunny with a high of 69°. I am ready for tonight. I already have my candy, nickel bars of Hershey’s chocolate. I do have a couple of errands, but I’m glad to get out and enjoy the day. BOO! BOO!

My deck flowers have drooped. It was just too cold last night. Even Nala was out and back inside quickly. She usually roams the yard. I put a blanket on my bed. With that and the two dogs around me, I was cozy last night.

Today will be cold, in the 40’s. We have sun now, but it’ll disappear. It is a bundle day, a layer against the cold day. It feels like winter.

When I travel, I am a morning person. I am up and about early. I wander. The cities are themselves in the morning with people walking to work, stopping for coffee to go and munching pastry or bread. As for now, I am a night person. I go to bed in the wee hours. The house next door always leaves a light on as does the house behind mine. I love the silence of the night.

I went to St. Patrick’s grammar school for eight years. We had two of each grade. We baby boomers were many. Mostly it was all the same kids in my classes through the years, and I still keep in touch with some of the friends I made back then. I have snippets of memories of those years. I can even still see some of those memories in my mind’s eye. The cloak room outside my first grade classroom is bright in my memories. Every hook was filled with a couple of winter coats, and coats were squeezed between the hooked coats. I remember sitting on the floor to put my boots on.

I remember Mrs. Kerrigan, my second grade teacher. She was old. She wore flowered dresses and old lady black shoes with laces and clunky heels. She lived in a second floor apartment across from the church. In hindsight, I figure she could have been the poster lady for unmarried teachers in the 1950’s and earlier.

I had a nun teacher in the third grade. Our class was in the cellar of the rectory. I mostly liked her. She let Duke my dog stay in the room when he followed me to school. I didn’t like her when she embarrassed me in front of the class by telling me not to sing for the May procession. I didn’t sing in public after that until I started playing the uke.

In the fourth grade we were in double sessions. I had a no nonsense teacher but I liked her. She had gone to high school with my mother. That’s what I remember.

In the fifth grade, I had an enormous nun who mostly sat at her desk. She had favorites. I wasn’t one of them.

The best memories are from the last three grades. I’ll save them for later.