Dressed to impress on one hell of a scary night

Halloween makes me grin like a jack-o-lantern. It's such a sight when the little ghosts and goblins go on their annual parade, and I long remember joining the hordes of trick-or-treaters who would march door-to-door, like Avon salespeople, questing for tooth-rotting, tastebud-tantalizing sweets.

For months before the big night, my family would build elaborate haunted walks through the forest behind our house.

Gravestones were cast in cement and we built electric chairs from scrap wood. Come showtime, we would ignite a pan of flashpowder beneath the chair, while some condemned actor would scream and writhe while chewing blood tablets and spitting out their crimson contents like a sputtering lawn sprinkler.