As in many homes across the country, my family is counting down the days until Halloween. (Two as of this writing.) The pumpkins are being carved, the candy is being stockpiled, and the finishing touches are being made to the costumes. My son Scott will be trolling for treats dressed in a homemade ghost costume thanks to the fantastic imagination of my wife and some really ratty gossamer fabric that has been retired from duty as our kitchen curtains but makes for a fabulously ethereal appearance.

Scott's buddy Jasper will be one of the many representing the junior Star Wars fans in an inherited stormtrooper costume. Having recently acquired a toy blaster to complete the ensemble, Jasper's excitement at suiting up is apparently close to bubbling over. "He's been putting on the costume pretty much every day", Jasper's mom shared with me.

I have no doubt that Scott will one day choose to suit up as a Star Wars hero or villain, and only hope that when he does he has more luck than the year I took on All Hallow's Eve as everyone's favorite bounty hunter, Boba Fett. My critical error however was to do so for Halloween 1979, a good 7 months away from the release of "The Empire Strikes Back", so no one knew who the hell Boba Fett was, what a good Fett costume would look like, and why they were supposed to care.

But a 7-year-old Brad Barton knew! Apparently I was so blown away by my Kenner mail away Boba Fett preview action figure and the masked Mandalorian's appearance in the infamous 1978 "Star Wars Holiday Special" that I was ready to take on the neighborhood in my homemade costume. I knew he would be big! A Bantha Tracks fan club newsletter told me so!

I have no idea if my parents encouraged or discouraged my choice of the super-obscure character, but they certainly helped me construct a solid costume. A grey sweat suit (with sweet green piping running down the legs) was the base on which an olive green tunic was overlaid. Yellow fabric was used to make knee and shoulder pads. Awesome, right? But the best part was donning my dad's motorcycle helmet, which had been painted green and red to approximate Fett's fearsome visor. The helmet was naturally tinted red meaning that my face could only partially be made out as I prepared to dazzle everyone with my fearsome visage.

My childhood neighborhood of Orange Village, Ohio wasn't really much of a neighborhood per se. The houses were somewhat far apart, there were no sidewalks, and you had to contend with long driveways. Not ideal trick or treating conditions. So each Halloween my family would drive to my grandmother's neighborhood in South Euclid where the homes were packed closely together, the sidewalks stretched in straight lines as far as a kid could see, and there seemed to be a wonderfully disproportionate amount of older homeowners all too ready to dote on trick-or-treaters and load up their bags with candy.

We checked in with my grandmother who, as an excellent listener and enabler of passionate childhood pursuits, may actually have known who Boba Fett was. But I quickly learned that the rest of South Euclid did not. With pride and excitement I rang my first doorbell and prepared for both candy and admiration of my clearly professional grade costume. I shouted a muffled "trick or treat" from behind the Fett-tastic motorcycle helmet. "Oh my goodness," exclaimed the retiree who had opened the door. "It's a spaceman!" "I'm Boba Fett," I corrected while collecting my sugary bounty. As we moved on to the next house I wondered, "how could they not know? Boba Fett is the coolest."

At the next house, the greeting was just as exuberant but just as incorrect. "Hey, it's an astronaut!" "No, I'm Boba Fett! He's a Star Wars guy!" What was happening? I had a great homemade costume of one of the best action figures ever! How could people not know who I was? And why was this stupid helmet fogging up so much?

A similar scene played out at house after house until soon I continued my candy seeking mission with my heavy helmet under my arm and answering any inquires of "what are YOU dressed as?" with an unenthusiastic, "I'm a ... spaceman." By the time I dumped out my plastic pumpkin bucket and surveyed my Halloween haul for the night on my grandmother's living room carpet, the spring had left my step. I still brought in a dentist's nightmare worth of candy, but the bite-sized Three Musketeers bars didn't taste quite as good after being handed defeat as well as treats by the Star Wars ignorant population of South Euclid, Ohio.

Of course, the story is markedly different heading out for the 2009 season. Any number of Star Wars characters will be among the pop culturally inspired costumes, and most parents will be able to tell a clone trooper from a stormtrooper, let alone identify any number of droids, Jedi, Sith, aliens, and bounty hunters. I recently came across the only picture I have of myself as Boba Fett from Halloween 1979, posing menacingly in my living room in front of some of my mom's potted plants. I showed it to my son and explained to him that it was me at age 7. "What am I dressed as?" I asked him. "Boba Fett," he immediately shot back with an unspoken tone of "Daddy, that's such an obvious question you're wasting my time." Vindication! I've never been happier to hear sass in my kid's voice.

I hope all you costumed characters, small and large, have a great time collecting and/or distributing the goodies on Halloween. May all your candy be individually wrapped and your homes go un-vandalized. And if anyone scores an extra Star Wars mini-comic on Halloween night, my ...er... son would love to work out a trade.