Do you ever wonder what happened to the creativity and sense of community that used to go with Halloween?

Maybe it’s just me, but going to the store and buying a costume that 80 other kids are going to have, and then going to the mall to trick or treat doesn’t sound all that fun.

When I was little, which admittedly wasn’t that long ago, there wasn’t a preponderance of store-bought costumes. There were probably some, but for the most part, I remember kids going around in stuff that parents (let’s face it — moms) made or put together.

In our case, it was costumes that my aunt made for my cousins, then we got as hand-me-downs. Luckily for us and my mom, my brother and I were about the same age difference as my cousins, so about two years after they were an angel and a devil, we were an angel and a devil. Guess who was the angel?

I was a clown, a fox and a gypsy. And every year, I had no say whatsoever in what I was going to dress up as.

There was none of this picking and choosing costumes, or coming up with an idea and then changing it eight times. If Cousin Amy was a gypsy, then I will be a gypsy. I can’t vouch for whether Cousin Amy got a say in her costume choice.

And, when we went trick-or-treating, Mom and Dad took us out in the neighborhood after it got dark. We didn’t go before the sun set; we went after our bologna sandwiches were eaten, which sometimes took a while, because I can remember at least one instance when I really, really didn’t want to eat my bologna sandwich.

The thing is, when we went trick-or-treating, we knew all our neighbors. They were the people who let us sled in their yards when it snowed, the people who bought Girl Scout cookies when I was hawking them, the people who waved when we drove by. We knew their phone numbers and their kids, and the names of their dogs.

And we knew that, aside from the one house that always gave out dimes, we weren’t going to get anything weird with our candy. Honestly, I wish I had a dime for every piece of candy I’ve ever eaten. Think how much less I’d weigh and how much more money I’d have!

I do know, however, that times had changed from when my parents went trick-or-treating and when we did. I know this because one night, my friend’s parents asked us what trick we were going to perform in order to get our treat.

My brother and I stared dumbly at them, wondering what on Earth they were requesting of us. At every other house, you rang the doorbell, said “trick-or-treat” and they gave you some candy.

When we got home, we asked our parents what they were talking about, and they explained that when they went, you didn’t just get candy, you had to do something for it, like sing or dance or tell a joke. What a novel idea. Now, about 50 percent of the kids on the other side of the door just stick out their bag and don’t even say “trick-or-treat,” much less “thank you.”

If only they came over to sell me Girl Scout cookies or asked to sled in my yard. Then I might regale them with stories of trick-or-treating in my day.

I guess I’ll just have to settle for regaling you with stories of my day.