It’s October 31st. Let’s say the year is 1992 (because I’m not trying to be factually accurate, just set a scene). There are apples bobbing in bathtubs, pumpkins glowing on stoops, leaves crunching under boots and bike tires, and pillowcases, divested of their typical stuffing, waiting to be glutted with candy bars. I’m sure you were all there, bit parts or lead roles in the Halloween scene that played out across every neighborhood in America two decades ago. Maybe you were Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Or Egon from Ghostbusters. If your mom was less creative or your family hard up for cash, you might have been just a garden variety vampire or cowboy or scarecrow. It didn’t matter though, did it? Everyone got the same amount of attention and candy, because that’s what Halloween was all about. It was about kids. It was about spooky decorations and drinking cider and carving pumpkins and eating more candy than you actually wanted, just because you could. I’m guessing, wit