It was 1962. Different times indeed…

It was Friday, the last day of school before Halloween. I was in sixth grade at Fields Memorial School in Bozrah. All week long, I had been debating what Halloween costume to wear and decided on being a gypsy.

We did not buy costumes; we created them from our own imagination, which was even better.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching each classroom take turns walking up and down the aisles dressed in costumes. From first grade to eighth, witches and ghosts, cowboys and Indians, gypsies and scarecrows proudly walked past and waved hello.

After the costume show, the entire school body met in the gymnasium to sample cookies, candy apples and cider that our room mothers made.

On the way home, our bus driver, Mr. Lashinski, was dressed as Daniel Boone, wearing a coonskin cap and cowboy boots. Once home, I took one more look at my gypsy costume in the mirror and smiled proudly. I decided my outfit was good enough to win first prize at the Bozrah Fire Department’s Halloween party for best costume.

However, things do not always go as planned. I thought I would be trick or treating with my big sister Janice and her friend Christine Kenney. But my mother had other ideas.

My mother had a close friend whose son went to a different school. His name was Austin. Austin was close to my age, but very different. When he didn’t get his way, he would flap his elbows like a bird and scream.

Other times he would refuse to eat the food on his plate if it touched his other food. When my mother informed me that we would be taking Austin trick-or-treating with us, I was not happy.

“But Ma, he will embarrass me.”

My mother stood firm. “Connie Mary, we must help those less fortunate. When you grow up, you will see that life for some children is not always fair.”

No matter how much I protested, it did not persuade my mother. By five o’clock it was already getting dark and the air was chilly. The three of us left holding brown paper bags with me avoiding Austin as much as I could.

With the full moon as our companion, we traveled along Fitchville Road, stopping at houses on the one-mile walk to the firehouse.

Along the way, we saw smashed pumpkins and broken eggs along the side of the road. We passed hordes of children hiding behind scary masks or wearing simple white sheets with holes cut out for the eyes. The moon illuminated the darkness, making everything bright and beautiful.

The stars smiled down upon us, telling us that childhood comes only once, and to enjoy every moment. Lights shone brightly from elaborately decorated houses welcoming children of all ages. Many adults opened the door dressed in costume. The scariest adult I saw was a man dressed in a gorilla costume!

When we arrived at the firehouse, there were adults sitting behind tables. Each pinned a number on our costume in order to judge the winners. There were tables of donuts, cookies, cotton candy, candy apples and games to choose.

I always liked to try my luck at the bucket of apples floating in water. This is when I noticed the beautiful costume Austin was wearing. His mother had made him an elaborate cowboy outfit with hat and boots to match.

He had been very quiet most of the night. Sometimes he would shyly smile when candy was placed in his bag, but now he looked excited. I was surprised when he turned to me and said, “Think I can win a prize? I never win anything.”

Then I realized he must have read the sign above that said prizes would be given out for the best costumes. Up to that point, I did not think he had the same feelings as me.

It was then that I decided to talk to the judges about Austin.

After an hour of fun and games, the prizes were announced. When they called the first prize, no one came forward to claim it. I looked at Austin and saw he had the right number.

“Look Austin,” I said, “You won!”

When he claimed his prize, tears flowed down his cheeks.

After we arrived home, we dumped our bags of candy across the floor and sat down to admire our treasure. After my bath, I said prayers with my mother who sat on the edge of my bed. She was happy when I told her what I had done for Austin.

“I am so proud of you Connie Mary. You made that little boy very happy.”

Before I closed my eyes, I looked out my window at the street lights gently shining upon the maple trees lining the street. I thought how much they looked like beautiful bouquets of flowers.

Another Halloween has come and gone, but the memory will live forever in my heart.

Happy Halloween!

Concetta Falcone-Codding is the author of “The Lonely Nest.” To contact: concettafalconecodding1@gmail.com.