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Fond Halloween childhood memories

It seems somehow odd to say this but the most frightful time of the year always brings back good memories.

I believe my first costume was a devil. My mother used to religiously purchase those enveloped patterns and sew together a variety of dresses for my sister, but during Halloween one year she found this cute little devil pattern and immediately thought of me. It was bright red, complete with a matching cape, stuffed horns and tail. I'm sure my sister remarked &#8220how fitting.” She was going through the stage at that time - the &#8220my little brother is a brat” stage.

Everyone's familiar with the PAAS Easter egg coloring set. But PAAS used to be actively involved in Halloween as well. Back in the 80s the company produced a line of Halloween costumes, which consisted of make-up, a plastic garbage-type material to drape over your torso, and a large inflatable head. There was a bat head, a goblin head and a pumpkin head. Me, I was the goblin.

The idea was to paint your face the color of the costume, then tie this humongous melon around your chin and bob happily down the street from door to door for candy. But the head made an inviting target for hand slaps from older children and was extremely obtrusive. Imagine strapping a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade float on top of your noggin and you get the idea.

It wasn't all about the costumes and candy, though.

At East Greenville Baptist we used to have the most wonderful Halloween parties. Bobbing for apples, old horror movies, chips and sandwiches.

And the usual tricks.

Before enjoying the goodies there's, of course, the requisite prayer. One party, we gathered in a circle, bowed our heads and someone led is in an offering.

Unfortunately, during the middle of said sermon, my father picked this time to enter the fellowship hall, aluminum tub over his head, booing like a ghost.

An old soul, (now long departed), stepped beneath the tub and calmly told my father to: &#8220Shut up. He's praying.”

Once, the adults from the church decided to produce a haunted house at an old shack on one of the county's lonesome roads. They used ketchup for blood. I was just a little boy and I remember clawing my way back into the car. There was no way that I was stepping foot in that house.

From what I understand it was frightful fun.

That was back in the days when no one had any sense.

Kevin Pearcey is Group Managing Editor of Greenville Newspapers, LLC. He can be reached by phone at 383-9302, ext. 136 or by email at: editor@greenville.advocate.com.