By Steve Siciliano
When I was very young I was afraid of the dark. Now, over fifty years later, I must admit that I can’t precisely remember why. Most likely the fear was generated by my unquestioned, irrational belief in an evil, hideously ugly entity called the devil. I had never seen Satan in the bright light of day but I had no doubt, nevertheless, that he was real. Every bit as real as goblins, bogeymen, ghosts and evil witches.
And so before I developed a rational intellect, I lived in a world inhabited by unseen terrors. But while there were indeed horrible monsters in my five-year old world, there was also a good deal of enchantment and magic. There was a good fairy that slipped coins beneath my pillow while I slept. There were huge, colorful, hidden, candy-filled baskets on Easter mornings that were furtively delivered during the night by a giant rabbit. There were pots of gold at the end of rainbows and the miraculous abili