My good friend Cherie Cayemberg suggested a special blogging theme for today called “Spooky Sunday”.
If you haven’t checked out Cherie’s brand new blog yet, head on over to Have You Seen My Roots?
Unfortunately, I don’t have any stories or pictures of my ancestors on Halloween. I really wish that I did.
I do have my own memories though. I’m sure that someday my children would like to hear about how I spent the holiday when I was a kid.
I grew up on an island in the woods. We were the only people living up our dirt road and the closest neighbors were at least a mile away. Do you see the picture I’m painting? No bags overflowing with candy for me. No trick-or-treaters at our door.
Before you start feeling really sorry for me though, I did have fun on Halloween.
My elementary school always had a huge Halloween Festival. It was a big deal in the rural area we lived in, because so many people didn’t live in neighborhoods where they could go door-to-door. The gym was full of games to play, cake walks, a fortune teller, and of course everyone was in costume. It was the place to be! We always had a good time and came home with candy and junk toys.
Once or twice, I tagged along with a friend into town to hit one of the neighborhoods for some extra candy. I always felt weird knocking on strangers doors though.