Halloween is Lucy's buzzword

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

Her mother bought her the bee costume. She found it at Old Navy. It's a plush, sturdy thing, which, hanging on a rack even without a face, resembled a giant bee. But put a baby in it and it was a bee for sure. "An angry bee," her mother said, though Lucy looked anything but angry. Perplexed, maybe. Curious. (Why is everyone going "bzzz bzzz"?) But definitely not angry.

The costume has two layers. The bottom is a brown snuggly sleeper, and the top - the bee part - is yellow and brown and BIG

Lucy was just hanging out with her dad and me, grazing on her bottle, kicking, cooing the day her mother came in with that big shopping bag. Off came Lucy's regular clothes.

"Bzzz, bzzz," her mother said, propping her up on the couch, smiling and laughing, grabbing the video camera while her father grabbed the still camera, both of them on their knees begging Lucy to, "Come on, baby, smile."

But Lucy the bee did exactly what she was supposed to do. She remained true to character and sat stone-faced and still.

The second time her mother dressed her in her bee costume was last Sunday for Canton's annual Halloween parade, which, Lucy the not so angry bee, slept through.

It's amazing how babies do this, isn't it? How they can nod off at rock concerts and pass out at fireworks, never mind that they're scrunched in a carriage or hanging out of someone's arms. Never mind all the shrieks and applause.

But put them in their own comfy bed and tiptoe out of their room. And then flush a toilet? That's when the angry bee really appears.

Sunday there was no angry bee. "Zzz" went the bee as the band played. "Zzz" went the bee as the fire engines screamed. "Zzz" went the bee as the crowd cheered.

We marched behind the high school band. Cymbals clashed. Horns squealed. Lucy slept.

Every town should have a Halloween parade. Ours is something else. It's full of little kids and big kids and moms and dads and grandparents, and you don't have to know anyone to have a good time, though it's a bonus to see kids who used to walk in the parade now grown up and walking with their own kids. But it's just as much fun to meet and talk to new people. And to wave at strangers standing in their doorways and have them wave back.

This year the crowd gathered at the Kennedy School and marched down the main street. The parade grew as it stepped along, people joining in anywhere.

Walking in the middle of the street in the middle of the day is an occasion. Traffic not only had to stop. It had to wait for us. Officer Keleher rode up and down the parade route on his motorcycle making sure that everyone was all right. TWO bands played. This is a big deal, all this says to kids. It's fun to pretend. It's fun to dress up. It's fun to stop traffic and time and have a good time for a little while.

At the end of the parade, the kids got cookies and ice cream and balloons. And every adult made a big fuss over every child. And everyone took pictures.

There were no contests for best costume so there were no tears. Except when it was time to go.

"I don't want it to be over," I heard a little girl say to her mother.

But it isn't over. Not yet.

Tonight Lucy will be a bee again and all the little Cinderellas and Simbas and clowns will get a chance to pretend one more time. Everywhere kids will be ringing doorbells and shouting "Trick or treat."