It’s hard to believe, but today marks my sixty-third consecutive party-free Halloween. That’s right. I’ve never in my life attended a Halloween party. At least not in my adult life. And probably not even in my childhood. It’s not that I don’t want to attend a Halloween party; it’s just that, for one reason or another, either I haven’t been invited or I haven’t been able to attend. My spouse is unmoved by the idea of attending a Halloween party. She does not cotton to the idea of dressing up in a mask and behaving like a giddy child. I, on the other hand, find such a concept wildly appealing. We’ve been invited to attend Halloween parties in years past (but not this year); she has vetoed our attendance. Oh, I could have gone, but I would have gone alone. And the aftermath would have transformed the enjoyment of attending into a memory unworthy of the effort expended in making it.
If I were to attend a Halloween party one day, I think I’d not buy or rent a costume. Instead, I would buy theatrical makeup and would create my own costume. I would morph into something I am not. But, then, that’s nothing new; I do it almost every day, sans costume.
CORRECTION: My wife assures me we have gone to at least one Halloween party. She says this party took place at the home of a co-worker when I was employed by the first association I ever worked for. That would have been between 1979 and 1985. I have absolutely no recollection of it. So, it’s been at least thirty-one years since I attended a Halloween party.
