my mom made apple pies

Every Halloween, my brothers and sisters would dress up. Out we would go, yelling "Halloween Apples" at every door. Back in the 60's, there was none of that sissy stuff of a parent coming along. Mom sewed our costumes and sent us out with our pillowcases.

My earliest memory of Halloween is going out with Brian (maybe Mary came too - I'm not sure), I think that year I was a cat and Brian was an Indian. We still lived in the house in Highland Park. It was probably not that long before we moved to Brentwood - I must have been 5 or 6, and Brian a year older.

Dad always handed out chocolate bars and Halloween kisses. I remember one year, Dad set up a TV in the front entrance way so he wouldn't have to miss too much of the game. Must have been Hockey Night in Canada.

One memorable year, Mom made apple pies out of all the apples we got. By this time, there were five kids, and we must have got many apples! She always used a knife to slice the design of wheat sheaves into the top crust of the pie. I remember asking her where she learned that. She said her mom always did it too. I remember thinking that her parents were farmers and always planted wheat. It made sense to me. Whenever I make a pie, I've always done it too.

I was a teenager by then, probably 13 or 14. I was out with a herd of teens, and Steve Thomas was throwing eggs at houses. I remember I was mortified. The thought of defiling someone elses property just because it was Halloween shocked me, but it was very exciting. One of the houses that got egged was one of those six or so houses in a row on Brisebois that were all brick. We knew the kid that lived there, and he was annoying so I guess that’s why Steve picked that house. Well, no sooner than splat happened, and the owner burst out the door. The chase was on - all the way up Brisebois! Then the gang turned into MY driveway! Some kept on running straight through the yard into the alley. Others (including me) hid behind some trees and bushes. Old Man What’s His Name started yelling for us to come out of hiding, and my mom came storming out the back door! She talked us into coming out of hiding and calmed the victim down by telling him she would find out who did it, and assured him that she would have the culprit clean up the mess the next day. He left and mom invited all my buddies in for apple pie. Sure enough, she got the story out of us, and Steve agreed he would return to the scene of the crime to clean it all up. I'm sure poor Steve regretted choosing an all brick house to egg! At least that's how I remember it.

I stole this idea

I am known for my bad memory, and I would give anything to have my memories back. Sometimes when I purposely sit and think about something, the memory will come back. Other times, when someone I know tells a story, it helps me remember. Other times it doesn't - wtf - it's soooooooo frustrating.
So after seeing another bloggers blog where she rambles on about random memories, I thought - I could do that. and even better, why not invite other people who know me to blog stories, too? Then we can each add our comments about what we remember from that occasion. Or, if we weren't there, we'll learn and laugh or cry or comment or not. It doesn't matter. What matters is we'll get a blog that has lots of great stories and that can't be a bad thing can it?

The only rule is the story has to have taken place at least one year earlier than the post date.

What the hell, I think it's a great idea.

and thanks in advance - you rock!

Love, love,
B