Fifty-nine years ago, yesterday, 1961, my maternal grandmother died. It's my memory that Oct. 320, not the 31st, was trick or treat night, and it remains my most memorable Halloween.
My grandmother, whom I dearly loved and still miss far more than I miss my own mother, had been forced by her seven children into a nursing home after one too many diabetic comas. Before then, she had lived on and off with my family, and those of my Uncle Paul and my Aunts Dorothy and Lois; the other three children for various reasons refused to let her stay with them, but she lived with my family the most.