Here’s me at the tender age of 4 in 1960, getting ready for Halloween. Sure, it may only be May, but it’s never too early to try on your costume to make sure it fits just right. That big rifle I’m holding (well, relatively speaking, of course) was a sick-kid present (chickenpox). I loved it. I hated it. Every time I pulled the lever down and back up it pinched my finger badly. But I kept playing with it and shooting bad guys, monsters, and creepy shadows until my finger hurt too much. I like to remember it as a teachable life-moment. And after all those candy cigarettes I never did take up smoking. I do eat a lot of candy, though.
