The Fun Is Worth The Shoe-Shaped Bruises

When my brother and I got too old for trick-or-treating, we would go all-out for Halloween with our father, who was a bigger kid than either of us.

One year, I dressed in black and lay in the bushes by the dark porch. [Brother] was in the upstairs window with a white pipe cleaner spider that had glowing eyes, and Dad was poised just inside the door in a Dracula cape and teeth.

When the tricker-or-treaters were just about to ring the doorbell, Dad would throw on the light, snatch open the door, and lean out with a “Yes?” while [Brother] threw the spider in an arc so it would come up in their peripheral vision on its string.

With the light on, I was in plain view, but with everyone’s attention on the door, no one spotted me — until I latched onto an ankle. I got stomped on more than once. More than once during the evening, I heard a group at the end of the driveway.

“You wanna go there?”

“Not me — they’re too scary.”