When the loud, scary visitors of the night rang the doorbell, pre-school Fiorella hid her head under a pillow on the front-room couch despite her parents trying to tell her that wicked witch was her beloved babysitter in disguise. Later, as a kindergartner, she was wary of the costumed kids walking to school on her side of the street. However, by by the time she was a first-grader, she was less fearful, maybe because her mother had thrown a Halloween party for her and her friends in the basement. The next year, Fio went out with a group of kids in her gypsy majorette outfit complete with baton and house shoes with their tops upturned to look like marching boots. What she remembers most was going up on the porch of a house just off Stetler Avenue and discovering a bushel basket of apples on the porch swing with a note beside it asking Halloween beggars to please take just one, which each of Fio's crew solemnly did before walking on to the next house.
Fiorella has probably told you this story before, and she probably will again. It's one of those thinga that's emblazoned on her memory forever.
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