I heard a statistic today that claimed that the razor in the apple is completely fictitious, and only two kids died from poisoned halloween candy and that candy was poisoned by their own relatives.
I remember all the safety precautions they used to tell us for halloween costumes. "Wear bright colors," "wear reflective material." I thought it was absurd. Dracula didn't wear a yellow cape! The mummy was not wrapped in reflective tape! I was always willing to take the risk to ensure the artistic integrity of my costumes.
Hey, that reminds me of a Sat. Night Live skit I saw a few years back. It was unsafe Halloween costume ideas. The best one was the Invisible Pedestrian costume. It consisted of an all black sweatsuit, black gloves, and a black ski mask.

Groon, you are preaching to the choir. I heard that same statistic, and I'm the one who cried when forced to wear a sweater with my witch costume! As if! And, I am one of the few people who remembers Ray Bradbury's oldest daughter was born on Guy Fawkes day, being familiar with Guy Fawkes due to continuous readings of E. Nesbit and Uncle Arthur as a child (both of whom wrote a classic spark-getting-too-close-to-the-basket-of-fireworks story.) I always felt sorry for people trying to set off fireworks in England in November! Talk about optimal conditions for being rained out! (By the way, the significance of the fireworks was that Guy Fawkes had a barrel of gunpowder to blow up some important government building--Parlaiment, I think--making him the original terrorist, I guess--but was foiled in his plot, so every November 5 they set him on fire--in effigy, anyway--instead.)

D: Yes! And because of this, is there not some added irony to the chosen name of F451's chief protagonist, Guy Montag!?

I remember St. Louis news running footage of volunteering hospitals X-Raying Halloween goodies to make sure it was all okay. Trick or Treating still goes on in small towns that way it used to. It waned as I grew up in Edwardsville, Illinois and the population and mistrust exploded. We used to stop at every house, then later we would drive around and go only to the houses of relatives and people we new well and thats the way it has been with the kids ever since. My wife and I were amazed at the number of trick or treaters who came to our house when we moved to a little town in the country last year. It was very refreshing. It is still the way things used to be there, it really brings back my childhood.
My grandfather told stories about growing up in the twenties in South Dakota and tying people into their outhouses and knocking outhouses over in the dark. He said that people retalliated by moving their outhouses forward on Halloween so that when whoever's turn it was to run up and knock it over would fall right into the hole the outhouse usually sat over, which was full of, as my grandfather put it, "Pooey." The unfortunate soul in the cesspit would cry for help getting out but none of the gang wanted to touch them. I laugh still when I tell that story.

The stunt my uncle pulled was similar. Tied an outhouse closed to pull it over without realizing the guy was in it. When the outhouse went over, the guy fell in the stuff.

Well done dandelion for a very concise explanation of Guy Fawkes night!

I believe most histories show Guido Fawkes (for that was his name) to have been a rather minor player in the conspiracy, but he's the poor soul we remember.

I'm not entirely sure of the specific origins of "Penny for the Guy", but the way it works is this: children (or anyone, really) make an effigy from a load of old clothes, and stuff it with old newspapers or straw, and place some sort of mask over it for a face. Then they position themselves on a busy street and ask passersby (Pedestrians would be the Bradburyan term) for "a penny for the Guy". The money they collect is traditionally used to buy fireworks, although nowadays its illegal to sell fireworks to minors.

The effigy is then burnt on the night of 5th November. When it usually rains like it has never rained before (the day it rained forever, anyone?). But at least it gets dark early, so the pyrotechnics can be seen in all their glory.

- Phil

Ah, I knew I'd be rewarded. Thanks to Phil and Dandelion for enlightening us.

Pete

Old Guido certainly picked a damp time of year for his little escapade, didn't he? And wasn't the phoenix in the second Harry Potter book named Fawkes? Was that supposed to be a funny? Fawkes, burning? Can't help comparing the penny thing with the hunting of the wren, in Ireland and the Isle of Man, though I don't know if it's practiced in England or Scotland. Kids would kill a wren on St. Stephen's Day (which I guess is Christmas Eve or something) and then collect money for the funeral! Don't know if the customs are at all related or a case of different people having the same good idea.

Wow, this topic has become quite fascinating! I was actually going to mention the phoenix from the Harry Potter books, but it looks like Dandelion beat me to it. Some great stories of halloween tricks too! Halloween tricks never got too big in my neighborhood. The only thing I remember was people kicking in or smashing jack o' lanterns. Nothing bigger than that. Thank god we don't have outhouses here!

Let me get this straight. Kids kill a wren, which considering their tiny size, at least here would be near impossible, and then exchange it for the price of a funeral? What in THE HELL is THIS all about?! I spook easily, dandelion.

[This message has been edited by Ought Not (edited 10-11-2003).]

I can't pretend to explain Celtic customs terribly much, of which this is a much-mentioned, if not well-documented, one. I did wonder how they managed to kill such a tiny bird. Perhaps they used slingshots and practiced beforehand. The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem have a song in which the boys "followed the wren three miles or more, at six o'clock in the mornin'," which may be a bit of Irish blarney. They also tell what they killed it with...if you have any idea what a "wattle" is...there's your answer. And, yes, an effigy or paper wren can be used...it doesn't have to be a real, dead, wren. The Chieftains also have a wren hunting song, and there's a folk song from the Isle of Man in which they're pretending the wren is so huge they'll need "the brewer's big cart" to get him home, so the custom spread at least that far. It appears in Susan Cooper's "The Dark is Rising," the "winter" book of that series, set in England and Wales, though I don't know whether the custom was practiced there or just made a cool creepy incident for a chilling book. I heartily recommend the series.

Well, according to Webster's, a wattle is a pole for supporting roof thatch. There are, or were, a lot of thatched roofs in Ireland. So apparently they knocked the poor bird down with a stick, if the song is to be believed. You learn something new every day.

Why yes I absolutely do learn something new everyday. Very interesting stuff, dandelion, and thank you.