I have fond memories of Trick or Treat. I could only do it when I was very young as we moved after that to several places where we had no close neighbors, but when I was five, Halloween was a very big deal. The selection of a costume was crucial as Halloween only came once a year, which meant it would be an eternity plus an eon before I could choose another costume, in Kid Time.

When I was five, I wanted to go as Mr. Ed. If you’re younger, you may be interested to know that there were once shows on television that featured talking horses, talking cars… the 60s were an interesting time. Anyway, Mr. Ed was the talking horse and star of his own show, a beautiful Palomino with a somewhat goofy, sometimes dry sense of humor (at five, you don’t realize the horse’s voice comes from an actor reading lines).

I was madly in love with Mr. Ed and wanted to marry him, to my mother’s consternation. She tried explaining that it would work because he couldn’t eat at the dining table with us (we didn’t have room for a trough), and he couldn’t sleep in my bedroom. I shrugged that off and said we’d figure out something, and I could sleep in the barn. Mom said again that I couldn’t marry Mr. Ed. When I asked why, she said it was because he was already married. There was already a Mrs. Ed. Being a good girl, this meant he was off limits. Note that she didn’t try to say it wouldn’t work because Mr. Ed was a horse. In our family, we were used to believing six or more impossible things before breakfast, like Alice in Wonderland.

Anyway, to help assuage my broken heart, she told me I could go trick or treating as Mr. Ed… but we couldn’t find a costume. Nowhere in Santa Cruz, and not even in the neighboring towns, which we tried. I was down, but Mom, who usually made my costumes (it was a big deal that she tried so hard to buy me one in respect for my being disappointed in love and all), said she would make me a costume. Although she was talented, she said there wasn’t time to make a horse head. Was there anything else I might like?

I thought about it and told her I wanted to go as a tomato. All these years later, I don’t remember what it was about tomatoes that was so appealing, but I was determined. If not Mr. Ed, I wanted to be a tomato.

She tried. She really did. Mom was a talented seamstress with a lot of inventive flair, but her best efforts left me looking more like an unfortunate medical condition than a healthy, ripe tomato. And it was the night before Halloween. In a burst of desperation, she declared I would be Santa Claus. Santa Claus? On Halloween? That just made no sense (whereas marrying a horse or being a tomato seemed altogether rational). She finished my costume and I wore it to school the next day, where kids laughed and asked me why Santa Claus. I explained that I was supposed to be a tomato but it didn’t work, which just confused everyone more.

Came Halloween evening. Forcing a smile, I trudged out with the other kids and parents to go Trick or Treating, dreading having to explain at every single house that I was really a failed tomato. At the first house, the woman who opened the door exclaimed, “Santa Claus! That’s great!” She called everyone in the family to come see the little Santa. Versions of that happened at almost every house. People told me over and over how funny, how cute, how brilliant, even how scary (from someone who was already dreading holiday shopping) it was to go out on Halloween as Santa Claus. And I took in a real haul of candy. I was showered with Pixie Sticks, chocolate bars, even handfuls of coins. I made out like a whiskered, red-suited bandit.

That’s the thing about Halloween. It can surprise you. May your surprises all be happy ones.