Memories Of My Past

October is winding down quickly, and soon it will be Halloween. Halloween candy has become a staple of everyone's diet at the clinic. As I reminisce about my youth (yes dearies, my creaking bones and my old age spots remind me I am not young like I thought I was), I remember how Halloween was like. Halloween was a time in which we all dressed up the same - a costume covered by the snowsuit since it was so frigging cold out. Of course there was that one year in which a bed sheet with two holes were cut out and I went as a ghost -I remember that it would keep shifting around and the eyes would shift to the back. A lot of walking into walls that night, and it wasn't because I was trying to be a ghost, it was because I couldn't see a damn thing. I remember we usually had to sing at the neighbors to get our treats. Not sure why, maybe it was a Saskatchewan ritual. There was no Walmarts to get the 1.2 kg bag of candy - we made popcorn balls, and gave apples out. Now days, these would be thrown out because there might be needles or blades in them. "Vandalism" consisted of someone soaping windows on the night. Fair enough, it would be hard to soap windows these days because most soap is in a pump bottle. Maybe loofahs would help out.
I also remember that this time would be the time for fall fairs - it was a huge town affair. The young kids would send in short poems, and would be judge on their writing skills. I never won that - my writing was always messy - probably was the reason why I became a doctor. There were entries for cooking (yes, I baked a few cookies in my time), entries for art (I drew a lot when I a kid), and of course, the best laying chicken. I appreciate now what my mother had done - she was the one who brought everything to town - the artwork, the potato and carrots that looked like animals, the chickens that she would have had to chase down to load up for their visit to town. After school, we would go to the farm fair, and all of our projects would be in full view of the town. We would collect our ribbons, our chickens, and our winnings (two dollar bills back then) and brag to mom and dad about how well we did.
The good old days - doesn't matter how old a person is, we all have them. They are only as good as what your memory allows them to be.