My Father was born on Halloween day, 1895. I don’t think he liked his birthdate because he didn’t believe in ghosts, goblins or ghouls, and we never celebrated them in our home. I loved my father and respected him, and he loved and respected me, but I doubt that he would have liked that his bishop son had a short career as a clown.
I introduced myself as a clown to My Joy on the first Halloween of our friendship. I had never gone to her apartment with out her prior knowledge and invitation. And she had never seen me as a clown.
I knew Joyce had prepared to receive “trick or treat” guests so I felt free to get out the remnants of my clown supplies that I had brought with me from Florida and did a quick paint job of my face and stole to her place. She was pleased and surprised. She insisted that I stay as a surprise to her grand niece and nephew. The niece who was the older of the two was pleased to see a clown who was a friend of her Aunt Joyce, but the little boy was afraid of him. A year later and a year older he looked forward to the encounter.
Last evening a loud knocking on my door took me out of my chair. When I opened the door I found a group of children and adults with flowers wanting to treat me.
Halloween can have happy moments and this was one of them. The kids had found an old man at home to treat. The group spreading cheer laughingly introduced themselves as part of the Kiwanis Club. I told them I was ninety years old and wished them long happy lives.
Halloween is here
day when children are treated
while wearing costumes