It’s the morning after. The only sign that 3,000 people invaded our little street last night are the candy wrappers littering the street, the sticky spider webs still stretched over the bushes and trees, and the inflatable ghouls and dragons that towered over us last night now lying in heaps on the ground. Fortunately the city will send a street cleaner to sweep up the litter; everything else is up to individual homeowners to tackle.

This year, the biggest candy supply we’ve ever had lasted until 7:30, later than we’ve ever gone. When it starts at 4:30 with the littlest superheroes and princesses, that shows you what it takes to live on Oak Street in Laguna — three hours of nonstop tricks and treats.

I have to admit I didn’t fare well last night as chief candy distributor. I was pretty much on my own for the first couple of hours. Like most of the homeowners, we don’t make them come to our door; we set up a table on the street with a cauldron full of candy and dish out treats to a steady stream of pillow cases, sacks and pumpkin pails. I was working about as fast as I could go, unfortunately, in a negative martyr mood of my own making. Fortunately Marti came out about halfway through the evening and she brought a much different mood — one of curiosity, wonder, and appreciation — fussing over their costumes and raving about how great everyone looked. Marti had definitely tapped into being younger than me, while I was so much older then. We embodied both lines of Dylan’s song. It wasn’t that I had to be older, I chose to be, blaming my mood on having to respond to the press of the crowd when I could have simply chosen a different attitude.

This experience showed me that being younger or older is a choice we are always making. We are not victims of outside circumstances or even our real age; we are participants in the life we choose to live.

So choose younger. Younger is more fun