I have a Hallowe’en story for you.

Years ago in my Other Life, when we were all together in Stratford and our children were 10, 12, 14 and 16, Liz had to enter a project in a Feminist Fair at the school. She made an almost life-size mannequin, with a small shelf where the stomach would be, covered with a blouse, not a maternity shirt but a kind of tunic. She taped a series of Q&As to do with the history of feminism (e.g.:who was the first woman elected to Parliament in Canada?) and put the tape recorder on the shelf, neatly hidden beneath the tunic. I t was a great success.

Matthew loved Linda—he still remembers the name she was given—and took her on as his own. He loved to use the tape recorder to make chiiing soundtracks of groans and shrieks and whimpers and howls.

When Hallowe’en came along, we put Linda on the front porch—not a veranda but an outside entry big enough to accommodate a few Trick-or-Treaters at a time. Linda stood out there to greet them with howling and groaning. She was a great hit.

But she had to go sooner or later. After Bill died (when the children were 12, 14, 16 and 18) I was trying to downsize in preparation for moving to Toronto. Linda had to leave. I put her out for the garbage men to take her away.

Our house was on a court; we were at the 12 0’clock position. My kitchen was at the front of the house overlooking the street. So I was privileged to witness Linda’s departure. The man in charge of tossing stuff into the grinder came upon Linda and bowed. Then he took her in his arms and danced her around the circle, while the driver cruised patiently ahead, waiting for the waltz to be over.

Such a lovely farewell.!