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That line normally proceeds some proclamation of mine about something (everything) that was better when I was young. In this case, Holloweenie Costumes.
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Now, when I was a kid, you had to make your own Halloween costumes - and I remember mine fondly. Actually your mother had to make your costumes, which I remember fondly.
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Until I really think about it.
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For every Robin and Marion or Jeanie and Major Heally - of which there are the cutest pictures, there is the Pinoccino where my mother used medical glue for the nose and I lost 3 layers of skin getting it off.
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Then, of course, there was the Halloween my father took me to his buddy's house in El Segundo and belated realized it was Halloween (Halloween was still for kids then, not adults). Wanting me out of the house so they could proceed with quite possibly illegal substance abuse (what the kids these days call "getting high") they wrapped me in a sheet. After my protest that being a ghost was actual living proof that one had no imagination and I refused to go out as one, they gathered the sheet with a big biker belt, took the bullets out of a gun (a very old west gun with that revolving chamber thing - this was before every Tom, Dick and Harry had a Glock) and sent me out as a Ghost Pirate. Don't ask.
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And as if to prove my point, today, Ed's Aunt sends out this picture of her three daughters circa 1968. Now, I get the ghost with gloves (apparently it is cold for many people during Halloween). The masked Pumpkin / Devil is odd, but understandable. But what is with the Pillsbury Doughboy as "Jaunty Janitor"? I see her sisters ditching her at house number 4.
