All Hallow's Eve

Twenty-eight years ago tonight, an 11-year old doing her best John Wayne ambled across Spartan City -- the cluster of old barracks that comprised student family housing at San Jose State University until the late 80s -- dressed in tight Levi jeans with the cuffs rolled up, a maroon shirt with tassels, matching brown leather vest with tassels, and a coon fur cap.

"I'm Danielle Boone!" she would announce, after chorusing "Trick or Treat!" with the other kids, as her sister-chaperone -- dressed similarly in a larger-sized version of her outfit except without the cap -- gave her a gentle shove to make sure that she got a share of the candied handout.  She carried her loot in a blue felt sack that her Mum sewed together, now bulging with candy corn that she didn't find tasty but had pretty colors; soft bubble gum, the kind with a riddle on the wrapper; a couple of apples; and an assortment of Hershey's miniatures.

That was my first Halloween in the U.S. -- my first Halloween ever -- and mental snapshots from that night linger with me more vividly than ones that followed.  That indelible memory still makes me eager to receive strangers at my door each October 31st, dressed as a monk on this particular night with a Frankenstein-themed bucket filled with mini Kit Kats and Reeses Pieces, our favorite chocolates that we'll look forward to savoring in the coming weeks.

Halloween night will always be special to this Danielle Boone.