Favorite memories of fall fun

Editor’s Note: Tammy Keith is on vacation. This column originally ran in 2006. Her then 16-year-old is all grown up and getting married this month, and she’s trying not to forget that Friday is her 27th wedding anniversary.

I can’t believe it’s October. I’m still trying to get in shape for swimsuit season.

I’m excited, though, because October is my favorite time of year.

Even though I get goosebumps when it’s below 80 degrees, I love the crisp fall weather. It’s football weather, and I have fond memories of being a majorette in high school and marching in the band. It reminds me of being in the homecoming court, and going with Mom to buy a dress and then walking arm in arm with my dad on that field under the bright lights, thinking “don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip” with every step. I remember big homecoming mums with orange and black ribbons, pep rallies and homecoming dances.

My 16-year-old went to his first homecoming last year, and it was quite the ordeal. I thought it would be easier with a boy, but because he couldn’t drive, he had to arrange transportation, which took no less than 95 phone calls among his little group of friends. He had to pick out the corsage for his date (of course I ordered it, picked it up and paid for it), find the restaurant and buy something to wear that matched his date’s dress.

I love October for another reason. Call me crazy or politically incorrect, but Halloween is my favorite holiday.

The drama queen in me always loved dressing up, ratting my long hair and going trick-or-treating as a witch, or pretending to be a gypsy while wearing my mother’s bracelets.

When I was growing up, my dad would drive me to the nicest neighborhood in town, and I remember my little heart would leap when I’d see a fun-sized candy bar (the Holy Grail) drop into my plastic pumpkin.

I wonder if my parents took candy from my pile the way I did with my children. The fact that our boys didn’t like nuts was a real plus back then.

My favorite Halloween candy, though, is the crunchy Peanut Butter Bars. I have perfected a method of eating them. I unwrap them and sort of squirt them from their little wrappers into my mouth.

I have great memories of my boys and their Halloween costumes, such as John as a little firefighter, complete with a fireman’s hat, red raincoat and a stuffed Dalmatian dog he carried. Scott, my younger son, once dressed

as Aladdin, but he could have passed for a little organ-grinder monkey.

I think my husband and I enjoyed picking out and carving pumpkins more than our children did. In fact, we did it before we even had children, as I recall, with our cat, Shoe, eating the insides of the pumpkins as my husband cleaned them out.

When I was pregnant with my now 16-year-old, I went into early labor and wasn’t supposed to do anything, so my husband drove me to huge display of pumpkins and walked all over as I pointed out from the car the ones I wanted. Making pumpkin pies is the only baking I do all year, but I do it early and often.

It’s also the 40th anniversary of that classic It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. It wouldn’t be October without it.

My older son’s getting ready for another homecoming dance, and he’s asked to go shopping for an outfit. His date’s dress is black and white. That should be easy. In fact, I’m going to suggest he borrow a black-and-white-striped ensemble from the jail. That way, he gets to enjoy the best of both worlds — Halloween and homecoming.

I don’t think he’ll go for it, but it’s worth a try.