When I hear people complain about how breathing is uncomfortable in the year of pandemic mask-wearing, I think back to how we put up with a bit of discomfort when there was candy to be gotten.

I mean, just look at this thing!

See those two tiny holes right beneath this hideous cat’s nose? And right above the back of kitty’s tongue – that tiny slit? That’s how we breathed on Halloween.

And no one complained.

Growing up in the ’60s, we’d switch between store-bought costumes and homemade. I remember a cat costume one year, a witch another, and a look-homeward (er, -homemade) angel with a cardboard halo that wouldn’t stay put.

One year, it snowed. Mom wouldn’t let us out of the house without our heavy winter jackets stuffed under our costumes.

Luckily, it was a home-made costume year, so everything fit. We all looked rather fluffy, but we stayed warm.

Billy’s first costume worked out perfectly. Wee Willie Winkie was ready for bed, already in his jammies.

That efficiency stuck with me as an adult. When our boys were little, their costumes also doubled as pajamas.

We always dropped by Grandma’s house after she and Daddy finished milking the cows.

John was udderly adorable in 1993:

Several years later, John was a sword-wielding Zorro:

A few years after that, he joined the Harry Potter craze:

James and I journeyed to Connecticut to trick or treat while at my parents’ house in 2006. Mom accompanied us for the evening, and even wore a hat:

This year, we’re all asked to wear masks on Halloween and every other day. It’s so little to do, since it keeps others safe.

John’s artistic wife, Aubrie, is a fan of Vincent Van Gogh, so John wears this mask to honor her and keep her safe:

Van Gogh was not just a post-impressionist painter, he was also a deep thinker.

We’ll leave you with these wise Van Gogh mots:

Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.

Would you like to receive an email notice when there’s a new Too Much Brudders post? Sign up here: