By Janet Manders

I was a shy and quiet person throughout my youth. My personality often kept me in the background. And unnoticed. I enjoyed a small circle of gal pals, but I was never the one to lead that group in any direction. Instead, I gladly followed my friends’  lead for what to wear and do. At times, I even observed and conformed to their thoughts and belief systems. I definitely didn’t see myself as attractive or appealing to the opposite sex. I had my share of crushes but always kept my infatuations private. Being asked to a school dance never happened for me. I was also the ultimate rule follower and did everything I could to avoid getting in trouble with my parents or teachers. I was content with my life. But looking back, I’d have to describe myself as conventional. And boring.

Things started to change when I started my college experience in the fall of 1975 in Madison, Wisconsin. The campus was huge and vibrant. I quickly found a small circle of friends from the dorm I lived in. Late-night discussions with that group opened my eyes to new ideas and possibilities. I found myself beginning the wonderful process of exploring who I was. And who I wanted to be. My new group included both females and males. One of the males, Bob, was tall with soulful eyes and long silky black hair. He loved music more than studying. I quickly fell in love with him and the alternative lifestyle he embodied. So different from my traditional youth. As I grew more confident in myself, his interest in me grew. Life was suddenly exciting.

Halloween on campus was the perfect opportunity to express my emerging sense of self. The yearly celebration occurred on the edge of the sprawling campus on State Street. Creatively costumed characters pushed traffic off the street to party all night long around bonfires. Bob was the creator of our costume freshman year. A white pillowcase, with a face drawn on it, covered our raised arms, head and shoulders. A sweatshirt with the sleeves hanging limply at our sides along with knee-high socks, boots and a pair of shorts pulled low over our hips gave the illusion that we had huge heads and a squat torso.  Our group of pillow people paraded around State Street, gathering attention and laughs everywhere we went. No one knew it was me underneath that pillow but I definitely wasn’t in the background anymore.

During my sophomore year, Bob took his guitar and dropped out of school. He also dropped me. I was devastated. My self-esteem took a serious hit. But, life goes on and Halloween season arrived to cheer me up. Boxes were repurposed to create costumes during my sophomore and junior years. Two large square boxes were used to design a pair of dice for a friend and myself. The following year, six bicycle boxes were painted to transform them into domino pieces. Both years, my head was visible through circular openings. Throughout our night of revelry, I was seen and recognized by people I knew and by strangers. The applause for my group’s innovative creations puffed me up with pride. 

My feelings of excitement surged when others on State Street yelled, “Push the dominoes!” My group and I stayed within eyesight of each other, but far enough apart, to avoid experiencing the domino effect in real life. Caution ruled. But so did a sense of growing empowerment in myself.

For my senior year, my best friend, Pam, convinced me it was time to expose even more of myself. It was time to stop hiding inside of a pillowcase or a box. The black leotard tops and tights we wore for Halloween that year were sleek, hugging our bodies. We used face paint to color our noses black and to add whiskers to our cheeks. I couldn’t let go of the ritual of adding a box so a small angled carton painted orange and worn across our waists gave the appearance of a piece of cheese. Although I envied Pam’s curvaceous body, I threw back my shoulders to squeak as we slinked down State Street.

The response from others increased my confidence. So many men were smiling at me and talking to me. There was interest in me! Towards the end of the night, two guys, who were also dressed all in black with eye masks, asked for our phone numbers and suggested a double date the following evening. They looked so mysterious. As well as a little bit dangerous and exciting. I floated home on a cloud. Maybe, putting myself out there, like Pam had suggested, was just the trick to a life full of treats.

The next evening, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, we waited for our mystery men to appear. They arrived, also dressed in jeans and t-shirts. They looked very ordinary. Our conversation was awkward and stilted. There was absolutely no feeling of attraction or zing. We all went home early. And disappointed.

That night, as Pam and I curled up on opposite ends of the couch to talk into the early hours of the morning, we debated. Should I go back into hiding as part of a group with only my head poked out of a box? Or should I take the risk to put myself out there again?

© 2025 Janet Manders

Janet is a newly retired Occupational Therapist who enjoyed a career working with Public School Teachers to support students to be successful academically, socially, and emotionally. She has always enjoyed books and is currently working on a memoir along with picture books for children.