The 8-year-old boy stood dutifully as his witch-costumed mother straightened his black cape and pulled the oversized hood over the back of his head. With his round eyeglasses, he looked more Harry Potter than Dracula or the Grim Reaper, but the transformation was taking shape.

The photographer positioned him carefully, and the boy’s furrowed brow and quiet patience gave him a fittingly serious Halloween air.

Then, without warning, his expression cracked wide open into an ear-to-ear grin. Snap … snap … snap. The moment was captured, sealed forever on a night when Halloween was in the air.

When my wife, Carole, talked about taking our adult granddaughters to Gardner Village for the witches’ walk, I dutifully agreed to be the chauffeur. I thought nothing of it until we were heading down th

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