I love Halloween and my kids think I am crazy. I spend nights and weekends for weeks setting up our front yard and creating a haunted house in the back. I drag them into the work and the fun sometimes kicking and screaming. Why this fixation with Halloween? Because it is all about stories. Stories from my youth, some scary and some happy, flood back each October. The stories are full of sites, sounds and smells. The stories are so rich that I can smell the fall leaves on the ground, and a chill in the air, even though I livein Arizona where the grass is green and the temperature is not very chilly. The stories that flood back have simple but powerful messages – being scared brings out a new appreciation of life, friendship is fertile ground for stories and memories, when in possession of a hefty garbage bag of candy moderation is a good virtue, if a dog is chasing you candy is not very important . . . As I pack away my webs, skeletons and body parts the depression sets in but it is tempered by the rich stories that will be with me forever. Next year will be even better . . .