One time I was a clown . returned to the basket , the music started , and the cakewalk continued until all the cakes were gone .

After the carnival , some of us went trick-ortreating to the homes where we knew we would be welcome . We never missed Constable Bert Martin and his wife Helen ’ s place , where homemade popcorn balls and punch always awaited us . They insisted that we come in , remove masks if we wore them , sit at their dining table , and tell them about our evening . Others went to the late movie ; the Three Stooges often starred in a Halloween spoof . And the really big kids — those with transportation independent of their parents — were out and about , playing pranks and decorating the town with toilet paper . My cousin Patty Kingston Towler , now 96 , was among them . She recalled the names of those she was with one Halloween when they moved a privy to the park in the center of town : Curtis Carpenter and Mildred and Ray O ’ Rear . She also recalled that Mrs . Nora Boyd , self-appointed monitor of their activities , followed them around and called parents to let them know what their offspring were up to . Patty said when she arrived at home late on Halloween night , her mother already knew exactly where she had been and what she had done .

When Nov . 1 dawned in those days , we awoke to fresh memories of eating enchiladas , anticipating cake , cherishing our prizes , and laughing about the pranks . The school ’ s coffers were replenished , the town had been jostled just enough to merit the approaching fall cleanup , and neighbors met over coffee to review another happy Halloween . �