By “BUZZ” KING, guest columnist

Halloween was somehow different 60 years ago or so.

I don’t remember certain times to venture out.

I don’t remember being limited by parents or anyone to one geographic location.

I don’t remember gathering in one place and candy just handed out.

I don’t remember buying a costume at a store.

I do remember rain some years, and dark, hot air others.

I remember a shortage of canning wax, toilet paper, ivory soap and dry beans in the stores.

I remember Jack Woods pretending to guess who I was.

I remember more sitting porches than stoops.

I remember more lights on than off at 8 p.m.

I remember thinking and then planning and then making a costume with my mom’s help. I do remember buying a mask only, at the store. I remember thinking at age 13 that I was just too old to partake, and then giving into my inner self at the last moment.

I remember wax lips, and those little wax bottle shapes filled with a sweet something.

I also remember Halloween was always on Halloween. Am I wrong?

I understand that some young folk read this column for yuks, so I will not tell what we did with the Ivory soap and canning wax. I will say that bean shooters were very widely used.

I am pleased to report that TP is still in use today, although not as much as then, and no pink today.

From the late ‘40s till we had sewer service in town (1958), the local youth would push our outhouse over on Halloween night, late. When we had indoor plumbing, there was no need to keep the outhouse. My dad waited ‘til Halloween, hid in the grape arbor out of sight. When the boys came to do their thing, he helped them.

The wax lips are gone forever, but are still available, if you know where to look.

And remember that now, as then, popcorn balls, apples, oranges and cookies don’t make good treats. Memorable, yes, good treats, no. The Tooth Fairy had it right in those days: SILVER!

‘Til next time. — Buzz

P.S.: The air was different then, too!

”Buzz” King is a nearly lifelong resident of Brown County and past president of the Nashville Town Council. His father, Fred King, was the unofficial county historian.