This is not a Halloween joke. This morning at the Costco gas pump:
Neither John nor I can remember when gas was this low before. I think it has been years. Can anyone else remember when it was?
Last night was Trick or Treating time in our town. I don't know why, but it was. Remember a few months ago, I mentioned that we seldom see kids outside playing in our neighborhood? Well, they were out en masse last night. There were packs of 10-15 kids at a time marching up the street and up our walkway in their elaborate costumes. Even the parents seemed to be in the spirit with wigs and even a few costumes. Tonight is Trick or Treating time in the neighborhoods east of us. We will be over at the other grandparent's house sitting on their big, wide front porch, sipping warming drinks and doling out candy to the hundreds of kids in that neighborhood. Our shared grandboys will be there and all their cousins and parents. It is a tradition and it is as much fun for the adults as the kids.
When I was a little girl, I had two aunts who were professional seamstresses. They always made my costumes and the two of them were very competitive. Lucky me! The earliest costume I remember was a one-piece bunny suit, complete with floppy ears. My favorite, though, was a red flamenco dancer's costume with rows and rows of polka dot ruffles and a very satisfying long and twirly skirt. I can remember how beautiful I felt walking down the street, swishing and twirling, much to my older brothers' embarrassment.
Remember the trepidation after ringing the doorbell at an unfamiliar house? Would they give us candy? Would it be good candy? Would they smile and comment on our beautiful costumes or just hand out the candy without even a glance? My dad was always the parent who walked with us. We always stopped at our own house last. We would ring the bell and when my mom came to the door with the basket of candy, we would shout "Trick or Treat", take the candy and then dissolve into giggles because we were sure she didn't recognize her own children.
We were in Cleveland yesterday and crossed over a wonderful old bridge. Why don't "they" construct things like this anymore? Or do we not notice the beauty around us? I think it is the former. Back in the day, they understood the need for beauty in the everyday, ordinary things. There are so many beautiful buildings in Cleveland, in every older town, really. Is the cost that different? I wonder.