I have a Halloween story to tell. It certainly wasn't pretty or enjoyable. But to tell this story, I must reveal an embarrassing moment of my own past.  Halloween night, 1971 or 1972, I was about half a mile from home and trick or treating. I was 11 or so and every bit a juvenile delinquent on the fast track. After trick or treating at a house and turning around, I decided to grab a little girl's trick or treat bag. I ran off with it. About an hour later, I returned home. My father was on fire. The little girl and her father had seen me. They had gone to my house and told my father. My father kicked my ass, made me go to the young girl's house and apologize, and then I was instructed to give her all of my candy. That was the last time I went trick or treating.  It was one of a few humiliating mistakes I would make in the next four or five years. I wish I could tell you that I was this great kid. I wished I could blame something other than myself, but the truth is- I was a