By Dan Domench

She could not have known she would inspire hundreds of schoolgirls over the years to trick-or-treat costumed in long white dresses and strawberry blonde wigs, their faces streaked in pink blush over pale foundation with mouths smeared in blood-red lipstick. She could not foresee a future where impersonators would distort her laugh into a wild cackle echoing through the streets on Halloween. Those of you from my hometown will know I am referring to the legendary Laughing Ghost that haunts the ten-acre St. Joseph Cemetery on the hill overlooking the village center. No, I am not asking for your sympathy for a spirit. I am talking here about my mother.

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