One of the ways fall is celebrated in Maine is with an annual pig roast that has been going on for the last 25 years thrown by four generations of the Hammond family. Once you're invited you always have an invitation. The patriarch Skip is in his mid-eighties and his wife is much younger by two years. They were married in the next town but got their blood test by a local doctor in Belgrade, who when he took blood from Skip’s wife couldn’t get it to fill the vial so he said to Skip give me some of your blood to fill the vial. The doctor then pronounced them husband and wife. They have been married for 60 years so far.
The pig roast started as a prelude to hunting season when a caterer would drive all night from South Carolina with six 80-pound pigs and masses of ground corn for the mountain of hush puppies. People brought all their best desserts and the table groaned under the weight. Over the years more tables have been set up and there is everything imaginable from bean hole beans to salads and deviled eggs of every know variation. The past 10 years clams and lobstershave also been cooked over a roaring oak wood fire pit. There are many people having their first and only lobster of the year and everyone wears a big contented smile of appreciation.
In Philadelphia there is an apartment complex on the Benjamin Franklin
Parkway called Park Towne Place. It is a cluster of four high rises –
cleverly called East, West, North and South. I had three friends who
lived there – Laura, Adam and Erik – and most years I spent Halloween
night with them, riding the elevators in our costumes and tearing
through the hallways, ringing every bell we could get our little hands
on in an effort to collect maximum quantities of candy. 
I was a weird kid. I never ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. My mother never had to tell me to straighten my room. And I liked Halloween more for the decorations than the candy.
My husband and I are not fans of Halloween. I hate dressing up - clearly I lack a sense of whimsy and the need to pretend to be something I am not. Or maybe I'm just content with who I am. You can be the judge. His birthday is three days before and his childhood parties were always black and orange-themed and required a costume. You'd think all the free candy would balance the drag of dressing up, but as the years went by his hatred only grew. Since we don’t have children avoiding this holiday is pretty simple…just turn the lights off and stay away from the front door.
When my kids are having a playdate there often isn't time to whip up a batch of cookies or other type of treat. Since most kids like pizza in some form, this is always a big hit. 