I always had the worst Halloween costumes. Even as a kid, my sister got to be Glenda The Good Witch – with a sparkly magic wand… while I was a hobo.

In fact, hobo was my go-to costume for years. My mom would rub dirt on my face, rumple my hair, tear holes in a shirt, and give me a stick (broom handle) with a kerchief tied to it.

My go-to costume as I got older? 50s person. Not a cool 50s person, with a poodle skirt or even a leather jacket. My costume was rolled up jeans, a t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes (empty) rolled in the sleeve, my hair in a ponytail. Kind of the chick version of James Dean I guess.

My mom wasn’t the crafty type and neither am I. And in those days, there weren’t any Halloween super-stores to go buy costumes. Almost everyone had something handmade.

As an adult now, passing out candy, I love seeing kids get dressed up. I have to say I appreciate seeing a homemade costume more than seeing 10 identical Supermans coming to my door. And when that little kid comes up – with their face smudged with dirt and a knapsack tied to a broom handle – they get the BIG candy bar. I feel your pain, kid. I really do.


Not me – or my costume. Sadly, this one is much better.