The first year we lived in Maryland, my Halloween costume was Moshe Dayan. Moshe Dayan was an Israeli politician with an eye patch and, in my case, a briefcase bearing some sort of commentary on something about my politics or military policy or who the hell knows what. It didn't occur to me at the time that this was a strange costume for a 10 year-old, or that I might have wanted to decide for myself what I'd be for Halloween. I never decided what I'd be. I just remember that the party was in what must've functioned as a community center--- the little church that our new road was named after (though our address was still a box # and a route #) and that I never set foot in again--- and that there was bobbing for apples.