Nobody but my parents and schoolteachers ever used Silas, my given name. The guys called me Sifi, a nickname that had stuck with me since I was a baby. Beamer, Sean Beaman to his folks, had the coolest bike in the neighborhood and lived next door. Juju- short for Michael, Jr.- was my cousin, just a month younger, who lived a couple of blocks away over on Stewart Drive. Our small Tennessee town, Columbia, still had enough wide-open spaces so that free-range boys could launch great adventures, and my two best buddies and I made the most of every day. Christmas was just weeks away, but time always moved at a snail's pace in December. Michael Jackson released his Thriller album with Billie Jean climbing America's Top 40. The Cards had whipped the Brewers in seven games in the Suds Series that fall, and the NFL strike finally ended. Things began to unravel for my friends and me in December 1982, when I was eleven years old. By the time I was old enough to watch my first Michael Myers movie, Halloween III, I already knew firsthand that infamous Haddonfield, Illinois, was not the only place where nightmares come true for ordinary kids! There's a moment in every boy's life when he realizes there are no monsters hiding under his bed, only to discover there may be one or two lurking just a block away.
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