Red Room Where the Writers Are

Hallowe'en was not a part of our culture.  I probably went out three times when a tiny girl.  Hated it!   I did not feel comfortable.

I loved being home handing out the treats to our younger, smaller neighbors.

When I was about eleven, I asked Mom to dress me like an Amazon woman from South America and black out my teeth as if I've been chewing cola nuts.  Mom did.

My very long hair was combed from the center of my head over my face.  With my teeth blackened, we rode the famous Boston MTA as memorialized by the Kingston Trio.

First, we got on the street car and startled the motorman.  I held out my hand with change in it.  He spoke to me and I replied in Spanish, my second language.  He took a nickle and dropped it in the coin box  Because I was so little, he figured I was a kid. 

Mom was behind me and dropped her adult fare in the coin box.

I went to an empty seat.  Mom took the empty seat behind me.

We rode the street car, then changed to a train.  From the train that looped Boston to a terminal.  We took another street car to another terminal.  From there we took the street car back home.  This caper took a couple hours.

Our fun was watching the people watching me.  If anyone spoke to me, I'd reply in Spanish.  I made sure that I answered correctly just in case, the speaker knew Spanish.

Once back home, Mom combed my hair and braided it.  I was still her little girl with a whimsical mind.  Getting the licorice goop off my teeth was a labor of love from Mom. What a mess!  The whole time Mom was cleaning me from our "evening on the town" we were laughing so hard we were almost ill.

Our escapade cost about twenty five cents.  No way could two people ride the MTA for that today. 

That was my best Hallowe'en!