Hey, I admit, I went trick-or-treating as a kid. I understand the spiritual reasons why our children need an alternative these days, not to mention the safety factor. But I did–and I had a blast. My family didn’t know Christ back in those days, so we really didn’t consider that the holiday celebrated death, the devil and spiritual darkness. I now know the origin of Halloween began as a religious observance of saints in the church. But as a kid, it was a chance to fill our pillow cases with as much free candy that we could gather in a few hours.

A few days out, my mom would let my brothers and I make a trip around the corner to Owl Rexall drugstore to purchase a Halloween costume. They were made of a cheap material that you would pull over your regular clothes. I’m sure that if a lit match touched the material, one would become a human torch. The mask was plastic and held to the back of the head with a stretch band that always hurt because it would get caught in my hair. There was usually a hole where the character’s mouth was. I would spend all night unconsciously pushing the tip of my tongue through the slit. I had cuts on my tongue for days afterward. Some years, as we got older, we wouldn’t even wear a costume. The anticipation that built up amongst the friends on my block was like a balloon about to pop. Just moments before we were to begin our evening of gathering candy, I would rip the pillow case from my bed and race out the door to haunt the neighborhood.

Some houses went all out with decorations and sound effects. We’re talking the 60’s here, where technical challenges like sound systems, lighting and fog were insurmountable by the average family. Nowadays you can find all you need at Walmart. I loved the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland and they had a really scary (for that time) record called Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House. Creative folks had the record playing over their stereo that they hid somewhere in the bushes in front of their house. One family decorated their porch with spider webs and a stuffed dummy next to the candy bowl. In one case, a neighbor rigged a speaker in a dummy’s mouth and stood to the side with a microphone, out of view, to scare the kids who dared to snag the candy. We were frightened out of our minds when the dummy started talking. At that point, the candy wasn’t worth it.

Halloween is a great time of year for our church in Murfreesboro. We serve some 20,000 locals with free candy, music, rides and a humongous cake walk. We take the opportunity to show families that Jesus loves them. Many people start coming to our church because of our Hoedown event every year. I enjoy seeing the creativity of the costumes. Even so, I still have great memories of our simple Halloween adventures back in the day. My mom told me many years after that as soon as we crashed into bed with exhaustion from trick-or-treating, she and my dad would rummage through our candy bags to pilfer some of the good stuff for themselves like Snickers bars and M & M’s. She said they left plenty for us. Funny, I never noticed any missing.

I have been writing almost everyday for six months. In that time this blog has come to life. I have discovered that I really enjoy the process of jotting down my thoughts. Sometimes I feel that it is a self-centered activity–writing about my journey through life. As I receive responses from folks all over the USA, I have reconsidered my stance on writing about what I know best: my sphere of experience.

Twitter is fun. I like to read tidbits from other people’s experiences and not necessarily have to wade through all the extras that a place like Facebook offers (don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the opportunity Facebook has given me to connect with lost friends). The ability to quickly and succinctly convey a thought to other people around the world is a remarkable benefit made possible by our nifty, Dick Tracy-like phones. My favorite person on Twitter is pastor Rick Warren. He seems to deliver the most power-packed statements related to being a Christ-follower. I am encouraged every time a new Rick-tweet makes it’s way to my Android smart-phone. I would really be bummed if he stopped delivering his golden nuggets of wisdom throughout the day.

I realize the benefit of writing is for me more than the reader. I have the opportunity to think through what I want to say and, in the process, refine my thoughts to enable a more disciplined delivery. Like with the process of songwriting, I mull over everything, making sure that I am communicating my point in the clearest fashion while considering the grammar and spelling (sometimes a mistake eludes my attention and I have to quickly make repairs after they are later discovered). The process of writing is the only way one will discover his own voice. Over the past months I have had the opportunity to find my own.

I am excited about the future as I branch out with the prospect of several book projects that I have been dreaming about lately. In fact, today I start the outline for what I hope is my entree into the literary world. The pen is powerful–reading has changed my own life tremendously. With my keyboard before me, I am taking steps toward a new and powerful way to express my mind, faith and experience as a fellow traveler to all who will stop and read the words I put to an empty page.

We are a unique bunch. Every waking moment we seem to be meandering through our day like Mr. Magoo, dreaming up new melodies, the perfect rhyme, new ways to say what everyone is thinking, and praying that no one beats us to the idea first. It’s a curious thing–making money with things that we made up in our minds.

I don’t really know where the songs come from. Some say we catch them as they fall from heaven. I know that some songs have escaped me–especially those that come to me in dreams. Whatever the source, songs are never just written–the best ones are re-written–scrubbed, sifted, re-worked, over and over, until they are ready to face an audience.

I admire the songwriters who labor over their works of art. Mac McAnally is one of those writers. He is little known as an artist (a great singer, and multi-instrumentalist), but his songs are masterpieces. Another master songsmith is Jimmy Webb. He just released a country album of remakes from his illustrious library of songs recorded by other artists. Tunes like By the Time I Get to Phoenix, Wichita Lineman and Galveston are all his progeny.

Some of my favorite writers are of the Tin Pan Alley days–writers who wrote for Broadway shows and movies. Their lyrics and melodies are even being recorded today. I loved the tradition where a prelude was introduced before the song actually started. The craft of those artisans still serve as benchmarks for serious writers today.

I am blessed to be a songwriter. I have always made up stuff in my head that I thought was useless until I realized that other people liked to sing my songs, too. The day I signed my first writer’s deal was a dream come true. I look forward to the songs that are in my future. I think the best ones are yet to come.

In southern California, from which I hail, Disneyland was a frequented attraction for my family. Growing up just a few miles from the park, we were within ear and eye-shot of the Disney experience. We could hear the popping of the fireworks outside, through our screen door in the summer and, like clockwork every evening, knew it was 9:25 PM. It was Tinkerbell’s cue to fly from the top of Matterhorn Mountain (via a tight wire, for the “non-believer”). Even when we weren’t in the park, the park came to us.

Living so close didn’t stifle the desire to visit as often as possible. One favorite stocking-stuffer at Christmastime was a book of tickets (coupons, as they called them) for a visit to Disneyland. The book came with tickets lettered from A to E. The progressing letters represented rides that were increasingly more desirable. Usually we’d come home with unused A and B tickets in the book. The reason was simple: the cool rides like the Pirates of the Caribbean, The Haunted Mansion, Space Mountain, The Matterhorn and the Monorail required an “E-ticket”.

According to the meticulous historical research done by the folks at the website Yesterland.com,

“The beginning of the end for “A” through “E” tickets was the 1971 opening of Magic Mountain (now Six Flags Magic Mountain), northwest of Los Angeles. Magic Mountain sold all-inclusive admission tickets for $5.00. Tickets were phased out in the late 1970s and early 1980s and were eliminated (altogether) in June, 1982, when all-inclusive passports became the only form of Disneyland admission.”

In Southern California slang, the expression “E-ticket” came to mean any activity or event that was especially worthwhile or exciting. The term barely made it across the California line into the vernacular of other regions and states. I have seen people give me a strange look when I use the term, “That was E-Ticket!” Obviously, obscure Disney references escape the awareness of the general public.

I guess superlatives such as: “excellent”, “extraordinary”, “incredible”, or “awesome” fit the bill for the masses as to what is considered the ultimate. For me, a kid from Fullerton, growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, “E-ticket” says it all.

Faces. No, I’m not talking about Rod Stewart’s early band, but the thing that glares back at us in the bathroom mirror.

Mom’s face is the first thing a child sees in this world (second to the scary men and women wearing funny, surgical outfits). We look to see if someone is pleased or annoyed with us by their facial expressions. I’m lousy at the “poker face” because what you see on my mug is probably what’s going on in my head. People say I smile a lot–especially when I’m playing my guitar and singing. I am not aware of it, but they can see by my face that I really enjoy what I do.

I was watching a show recently where people were caught on tape, by a night-vision camera, as they walked through a Halloween haunted house. It’s hard to hide your frightened facial contortions when a costumed ghoul jumps out at you from a dark corner. It’s also difficult to hide when an expert in human behavior analyzes whether you are lying or telling the truth through subtle facial responses when answering a question.

All in all, our faces tell our story. I ran across some photos of inanimate objects that really tease the brain. They aren’t Disney anthropomorphic characters–but real, every-day things we might miss if we are in a hurry. I thought you might get a kick out of them, too.