In my home now in an older district with fewer children, I sit at the door with a bowl of packaged mini-chocolate treats and a jar of change for Unicef. Weather mild, just above freezing, the front gate is opened adorned with fall decorations of an old curling broom, a sprig of dried herbs and an orange and green melon. The pumpkin set out earlier in the afternoon was a victim of a prank, smashed on the sidewalk.

How many years have I repeated this scene in other houses and neighbourhoods? This year it is just me and the dog!

Not quite certain of the almost 12, grade 7 young ‘un in my life, this afternoon I was a "parent supervisor” at her 2-hour junior high dance. In a darkened gym, with loud thumping music and steps from the Macarena to line dancing, contest for the top 10 costumes, raised arms and cheers, groups of teens moved to the beat more often in huddles of 5 or 6 than in pairs.

Dressed in black tights, and sweater and long tail, I remember myself at 11 in grade 7 as a black cat, the last year I went out with my best friend, Janet. My own daughter at 17, dressed in a yellow and green hooded dragon outfit, it was her last year as she touted her pre-schooler niece and friends. Needing to fly that night back to boarding school in Victoria, she was still in her outfit at the airport when she realized she had forgotten her plane ticket!

The year I gave out toothbrushes and coupons to the city swimming pools, instead of candy, my girls said I was cheap.

Very rarely now is the call “ Halloween Apples “. In this age of checking treats carefully and concern over spiritual warfare and other diabolical influences, am I just being nostalgic when I remember simpler times the fun of dressing up and door-to-door collecting?