The passing of a man

When I was sixteen, I had to get a new job.  A friend told me her boyfriend worked at Spencer's Gift and that they were hiring for part time workers for the Spirit Halloween stores (this was before stand alone Halloween stores were not as rampant as they are now).  I walked in, plaid skirt, ripped fishnets, black tank top, knee high boots, stated I wanted a job and didn't need a uniform.  I worked one hour in the Halloween store, and they needed help downstairs at Spencer's.  I never worked another day at the Halloween store, and I didn't leave for five years.  And I still have dreams about that place, particularly this time of year, and he's still always the boss.

Don Bell was like having a second dad during that time in my life. He was like that to everyone who worked there. He watched to boy toys filter in and out, sometimes he spoke up, some times he didn't.  He was absolutely hilarious with a cigarette in one hand and inhaler in the other looking like a short haired skinny troll doll with a cackle laugh to match.  He had a crush on the Lenscrafters Lady, who obliged his fantasy with grace (although I've been told that was a rouse on his part). He could yell at you and make you feel like you just killed a puppy, and the next day turn around and make you laugh at yourself for your own mistake.  He was simple, kind, and a good man all around. I didn't have the relationship most of my other co-workers and friends developed with him, but I had a little place in my heart nonetheless.  Guess this year I will honor him with a tombstone in my yard.