I have a confession to make. I don’t like Halloween, and I never have. Even as a kid in the Chicago suburbs, it was not a big deal for me. It was a day to get through. Oh, I participated in the school parties, school parade, and trick-or-treat time in the evening, but I never got excited about it like some kids did.

Our family moved to Manhattan from the northwestern part of Illinois in 1975 when my husband accepted a job at a local bank. Ken and I were excited about the move, our 3-year-old daughter wasn’t actually aware of what was happening, and our Golden Retriever was happy to go wherever the family went.

It was our son, Kirk, who balked at the move. He was part-way through first grade, and he didn’t want to leave his school or his friends. He turned 7 only days before the movers arrived. Even a birthday didn’t soothe his ruffled feathers. His world had been turned upside down.