Halloween hold-up was a success

What are you going to be for Halloween?

That was October’s favorite question when we were kids.

Witches and ghosts were plentiful, but not so much superheroes.

And store-bought costumes were virtually unheard-of.

Usually, it was something patched together at the last minute.

“How about a hobo?” Mom would say.

She was figuring she could smudge some stuff on my face, give me a piece of twine for a belt to hold up the trousers I’d ruined when I skinned my knee that summer, and plonk one of my dad’s hats on my head.

That worked. When it was trick or treat time there were a lot of hobos in our neighborhood.

We did have one set of costumes that were a step up from that. I’m not sure whether they were store-bought or my mother sewed them.

There were three clown suits, sort of like pajamas and not something to keep you warm if you were making the rounds tonight.

But the worst thing was that they came with weird rubber masks, masks that fit over your entire head. They were creepy to look at, and they were even creepier to wear. They prompted claustrophobia, and they smelled of sweat and rubber. Last year’s sweat and this year’s. They were hot.

Tired of hobos and dreading the clown mask, you might be willing to try anything.

In my case, that meant — at approximately age 10 — dressing up as a girl. The humiliation still burns. 

There are few things you can say to a 10-year-old boy that are crueler than telling him what a cute girl he is. Ouch.

I certainly wouldn’t have dressed up that way for the elementary school Halloween party.

And I have no idea what sort of costume I was wearing back about second grade when my buddy Don Starr and I pulled off the first stick-up of our career.

Don and I tended to walk home together from Judge Haynes Elementary School, now closed.

We’d head north on Western Avenue, then usually cut up the alley between Race and North streets to head east toward home.

But before we hit the alley, there was a mom and pop grocery store along the way.

In those days, it was Cash’s Grocery. Later, it became Welch’s.

It was a regular stop on the way home, especially if we had a few coins in our pockets and could buy some penny candy.

So there we were at the store when one of us — I confess that I might be the instigator — said, “Let’s put on our masks.”

We strode into the store, encountered the ever-friendly face of Mr. Cash, and said, “This is a stick-up!”

To our delight, he pretended to be surprised and gave us some penny candy, probably less than the average Trick-or-Treater will get tonight.

Don and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and as I recall we tried again with different masks a few days later.

But Mr. Cash wasn’t buying it this time, and we were sent on our way.

Maybe if we’d been dressed as hobos it might have worked.