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A Halloween payback

It was 1940, just before World War II. My mother and I had lived in Port St. Joe, Florida, for four years and she and I had just come to Miami. She had left my step father and we had gotten on the Greyhound bus and come to Miami because my father, her first husband, lived there.

We rented a room in a private home and my mother began looking for a job. My Dad was a sign painter and had a little shop on one of the side streets in down town Miami. He lived in a room in back of the shop. I stayed with him several days while my mother was looking for work. I was seven years old and it was my first real experience with my father, since I had been less than three when they divorced.

During that time with my father I had a great deal of free time to wonder around the neighborhood, go to the movies, and otherwise enjoy the sights and sounds of Miami. That might sound strange in this day and time, but in those days it was relatively safe for children to be on the streets, and, of course, Miami was not quite the big city that it is today when I was there in 1940.

To get back to the main part of my story, I happened to be there with my father on Halloween night. There was a public school just across the street from my father's shop and they had advertised a children's Halloween party for that night. They were going to have refreshments and games and it was, of course, to be a costume party.

I had no costume but my Dad helped me to draw and cut out a set of "Dracula" teeth , with long fangs, out of a piece of white cardboard. I probably had some sort of black cape to go along with the fangs and I thought I looked pretty good. I was really looking forward to having fun at the party.

That night, just before time for the party, I put on my costume and started walking across the street. As I started to go up the steps of the school, two boys saw me and started pointing at me and laughing. Their laugh was not friendly but had a cruel sound of derision. I was crushed and ran back across the street crying. No amount of persuasion from my father could interest me in going back. The party was over for me. My Halloween was ruined. It was as if Miami, itself, had made fun of this little seven year old boy.

Now, fast forward fifty years. It is 1990 and my own son, Dean, is living in Miami. He has graduated from Fashion Merchandising school and is working as a decorator at Burdine's Department Store. I was visiting him in Miami and it just happened to be on Halloween.

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