I live in West Hollywood, where Halloween is like a national
holiday – arrangements for street closures have been made well in
advance and people from all over will come watch the flagrant and the
flamboyant, the political and the theatrical, the absurd and the
sublime march along Santa Monica Boulevard, from La Cienega to Doheny.
Candy is not an integral part of this spectacle and frankly that's the
only thing that rankles me about it.
One year, the Wicked Witch of the West wheeled along the Boulevard with an enormous crystal ball that housed terrorized miniatures – Dorothy, Toto, and the other Oz pilgrims were all cowering on the yellow brick road within her bubble. Another year, there were several Menendez brothers, wearing blood covered v-neck sweaters and conservative haircuts. Then another year, there were groups of huddled Titanic musicians playing desperately as their ship was sinking (or, I should say, as the parade was passing them by).
The countdown to Halloween is well under way and we are enjoying a few holiday treats! I celebrate Halloween all month because I love it!! I also love mason jars, which goes back to my love of glass storage containers.
I am a person who remembers absolutely everything. I remember being sick when I was two years old and believed (one, hopes, due to fever and not psychopathology) that tiny men were marching out of my laundry hamper. I remember the first day of kindergarten, the exact words in the note from Eric saying he didn’t like me that way in fifth grade, the way the flap of skin looked after I jumped on a clam shell in Maine when I was ten, and the phone numbers of all my friends from high school. I remember the way the air smelled in Boston on a day when it carried the ocean into the City, and the diesel smell of the streets in Europe. I remember slights and offenses and try hard to forget them. I remember generosities and kindnesses, and try to cherish them. I remember to do the things I say I’m going to do, unless I’m under enormous stress. (That’s a whole different issue).
Jack Benny (who was famously cheap and made fun of himself for it) gave out silver dollars on Halloween. 
I particularly like Halloween, because its one of those few times in
American culture, when people are encouraged to talk to their
neighbors. Bands of spookily clad folks roam through neighborhoods, and
nobody calls the police. People gainfully reclaim public space, and
redefine how they interact with others. We need more citizen-driven
spectacle, so I really support this holiday.