Many times, over my lifetime, I have been a bum.
Well, actually I think the word my Dad used was "hobo."
It was the perfect costume for Halloween -- a dirty face and a red bandana tied to a long stick. I remember my Dad saying, "Be a hobo." Then he did his magic. Well, it was magic to me.
He found a cork, pulled out his lighter and began to burn the cork. My eyes got a bit wider when he said, "Come here."
He cupped my chin in his left hand then began scraping that burnt cork across my forehead and into my cheeks. With a mirror I saw my scruffy face. It was great. It became my favorite costume. Easy. No plastic mask to slow me down.
My mission was CANDY! As much as I could get. Please understand ... in our house candy was rare. Not part of the budget or the healthy diet. But once a year ... there were no rules. I took a pillowcase and hit the streets.
I hit every house. I wanted it all. Hey ... I was a kid. Candy was gold.
I came back when the sack was full. Poured my pillowcase on the floor and spread my treasure out to pluck and pick and separate. And gobble until I was told to stop.
I was one happy hobo.
Now ... I admit some sadness. Maybe even grief because this kid became a teen and I was too old to chase candy.
I do wish Halloween had not turned into what it is today.
I miss those days as a hobo. No fears. Trust in neighbors. The glorious free-for-all race for candy and -- this is the important part -- a moment of freedom.
Freedom to be different. Something else. Someone else.
The freedom to be a kid.
I’m Lonny Cain… and that’s my Perspective.