Posts Tagged ‘Festivals’

Pomp and Circumstance

© 2016 by Bob Litton.  All Rights Reserved.

The two theme ideas that have been hounding me lately are quite different from each other, one being the ultimate in the grandiose (“The Idea of God”) and the other so bland as almost to amount to trivia (“Academic Regalia”). Naturally, being the lazy and cowardly person that I am, I opted for the latter.

It all started this way: Last week our hometown university published a notice in the local weekly announcing who the guest speaker at this year’s graduation ceremony would be. There was a fairly lengthy description of the speaker in the paper; but, because he was an alumnus of the same university as I, I wanted to know more; so I used a search engine. Unfortunately but naturally enough, this year’s speaker hadn’t been announced yet when the program was published online. However, serendipitously I happened upon some information that was just as intriguing.

Firstly, I was surprised to see that college administrators can be just as dictatorial as the Misses Grundy’s we encountered our first year in grade school — when they separated us into “blue birds” and “red birds”. Here is how the university organized the commencement (the blue and red highlightings are my addition):

IMPORTANT DOs and DON’Ts for graduates and guests:
• Attend rehearsal at 2 p.m. on Friday, May 13th so you know the marching order.
• Arrive by 9 a.m. on the day of graduation, Saturday, May 14th.  The ceremony will begin at 10:00am.
• Leave valuables with family members during the ceremony.  There is no secure place for your belongings.
• Wear proper academic regalia.
• No selfies, hijinks, or inappropriate behavior as you cross the stage.
• Cell phones should be turned off or placed on silent.
• Students are expected to return to their seats after the on-stage presentation. The last person is just as important as the first.
• Diplomas will be mailed two weeks after commencement.  If you choose to pick up your diploma, please contact the Provost’s office.
• Guests should arrive early as seating is on a first come, first serve basis.
• Use of air horns, noisemakers, or other disruptive items is strictly PROHIBITED.
• Guests are expected to remain in their seats during the ceremony.
• Photos are allowed in the designated area only. To avoid congestion, please limit the number of guests on the venue floor.
• Guests should sit in the designated areas only; seats on the floor are reserved for faculty and graduates only. Do not stand in the aisles.

My, my! I innocently had thought that by the time one graduated from college, he or she would have grown out of pranksterism, but here we are with the graduates being warned not to engage in “hijnks” or any other sort of “inappropriate behavior” as they cross the stage. And I was curious whether anyone during any previous commencement had blown an “airhorn”.  The wording reminded me of our current political caucuses and primaries. Of course, most of the other instructions are moderate and understandable, assuming the exercise is going to exhibit any organization at all.

Well, I said “moderate”, but I don’t know if that is really the true case or not. For, look at the blue-highlighted item: “Wear proper academic regalia.” Elsewhere in the instruction pages the graduates are informed where they can “buy” the caps and gowns — at the campus bookstore — but the cost is not listed. When I was graduated from high school in Dallas in 1958, we didn’t have to buy our caps and gowns; but, then, that was presumed to be the only occasion we were to use them. When one gets into the levels of “higher learning”, there can be multiple occasions for wearing the cap and gown (or the gown at least) unless the graduate changes his/her academic field along the way, the reason being that the gowns are color-coded.

I counted twenty colors in the local university’s regalia, but the number of colors will vary from school to school depending upon how many degree programs at the school; the maximum number is eighty-five, but I don’t know of any university that offers that many degree programs.. We are way beyond the “blue bird”/”red bird” stage, folks! I won’t burden you with all twenty colors and their particular fields, just the few that caught my attention for different reasons.

The first one (on their list and mine as well) is Agriculture with its maize gown. According to its Wikipedia article, the term “maize” can be applied to “a variety of shades, ranging from light yellow to a dark shade that borders on orange”. Of all the colors on the gown list, this color — that of our American corn — best matches the academic field it signifies. Hurray for the farmers and county agents!

The next one I noticed (their third on the list) was Accountancy, Business, Commerce: drab. Now, I realize that business majors are often the butt of campus jokes, but isn’t this carrying the humor a bit too far? Drab? Drab is “a dull, light brown color, the color of undyed wool”. I won’t say any more about it.

The colors for Education (light blue) and Philosophy (dark blue) intrigued me because they are both blues; but is there any significance, other than a limited number of colors to draw upon, in their intensity difference? My imagination hints the answer: “Yes!” For, Education can be a light-hearted field, particularly if the graduates are going into elementary school teaching; while Philosophy, as I discovered too late, is usually way too dark for safe living, especially if you concentrate on Schopenhauer and the Existentialists.

A little further down the list we come upon Journalism (crimson). Being a former journalist, I was naturally curious about that color and why a shade of red was chosen, the color often associated with anger. I would have expected to read “yellow”, not out of any association with cowardice but rather harking back to the historical period of “yellow journalism”. On the other hand, such a choice would have been almost as bad as the drab tacked onto Accountancy, etc.

As for the students having to purchase their caps and gowns, I suppose at least some of them will end up donning them again on a few later occasions, when they earn higher degrees, even honorary ones. And, of course, those who become college professors will have to don theirs at least twice a year for future commencement ceremonies. As for those who entertain no further academic ambitions as such, they can just box their caps and gowns and stow them away in their attics with other memorabilia.

I don’t have any problem with old academic regalia myself, for I did not attend either my bachelor’s or my master’s graduation ceremonies: I had my degrees mailed to me. My memory of that tedious high school graduation with 494 students marching up to the stage at Dallas’ State Fair Music Hall to receive our individual degrees while a band doggedly played Sir Edward Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance” over and over again was too vivid a memory.

Finis

A Retrospective of Valentine Day Essays

© 2016 By Bob Litton. All rights Reserved.

Well, no, the doldrums have not gone away already. On top of that, now I have a sinus infection to cope with.

Still, Valentine’s Day is almost on top of us; and, as usual, I feel I must say something concerning that fateful day. There’s a tone about this period of the month that appears to have a most negative effect on my health and attitude; I just had that insight a few minutes ago while I was gathering the URLs below: I seem to endure a low energy level around February 14, so I dig up old newspaper columns I have written and publish them here in “The Vanity Mirror”, in lieu of fresh writings.

I no longer spruce myself up for Valentine’s Day, no longer call a girlfriend…because there is no girlfriend. As Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542) wrote in one of his best poems, “They flee from me that sometime did me seek”. It’s all part of the territory, along with a broken tooth, graying hair, an overly stout midsection…and an empty pocket. An ebullient personality and scintillating conversation cannot make up for all those deficits.

Nonetheless, you folks can still find something to peruse about Valentine’s Day in my “archives”; and, just for this year, I have made the reading easier for you by pulling together the URLs for those essays: here they are; enjoy!

https://boblitton.wordpress.com/2015/02/14/appreciating-valentines-day-2/
https://boblitton.wordpress.com/2014/01/16/a-valentine-for-quasimodo/
https://boblitton.wordpress.com/2014/02/11/love-endures-even-in-this-cynical-age/
https://boblitton.wordpress.com/2014/01/31/what-of-whom-do-we-love/

Be sweet to your Valentine…if you have one!
—BL

 

 

Thanksgiving, 2015

“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of a passionate intensity.”
— from “The Second Coming”, by William Butler Yeats


©  2014, 2015 By Bob Litton

NOTE TO READERS: Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday for reasons that will appear in the essay below. This Thanksgiving, however, world and national events have rendered me doubtful if there really is anything left to be thankful for. I have lost faith in humanity — in much of it anyway. That’s why the lines above from Yeats’ prophetic poem keep popping up in my mind.
     Still, I have a few faithful readers here and around the world, and I have not published anything in nearly two weeks. Oh, I have my judgments on current events; but they have all been uttered quite eloquently, if sporadically, by others in the media. I don’t want to weary you with a refrain of the same.
     I looked through my files for something a bit more comforting to rehash, and I located the column I wrote for The Monahans News back in 1979 and re-published on this blog last year. It contains all the sentiments I still feel about Thanksgiving, if ever so faintly.
     I am banking on the assumption that some of you were not reading this blog last year; so, for you at least, it will be fresh reading. I hope my disposition will improve soon, for I do have a couple of different topics to write about; both of them, however, will take some heavy-duty reading and compilation. And I just am not in the mood for that. For now, though, enjoy the post below!

∗  ∗  ∗  ∗  ∗  ∗

Some things you’re better off not looking at too closely. One of them is Thanksgiving.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re Christian, Jew, Muslim, or pagan. How can you count your “blessings” without their being contrasted with somebody else’s “lacks”? If you are blessed, are they therefore condemned?

How can we keep from choking on our turkey when we know people are starving here and across the world? Still, it is not, strictly speaking, our fault. We have tried to get food to war-torn areas as well as to places where natural disasters have rendered people homeless and even isolated. Even to share our “bounty” has sometimes become such a problem as to require diplomats, as was the case in Cambodia in 1979, when I published the original version of this essay.

And yet I wouldn’t have Thanksgiving not be. It has always been my favorite holiday — based on a religious origin yet not as heavily saccharine as Christmas, nor as ridiculously extended.

Many of us will be taking off to distant places (if we can afford the gasoline or plane tickets) in order to spend a few days with our relatives, whom we may not have seen for a year or more.

We’ll all disappear into warm houses and have a cordial meal. We’ll look at photos and watch three or four football games. If we’re wise and not too lazy, though, we’ll walk a few times around the park to aid digestion before we bury ourselves in those easy chairs.

That’s what I like about Thanksgiving, getting all muffled up with only the face exposed to get a red nose from the frosty air. It will be dusk, with just enough daylight to create an orange-red horizon as though there were a forest fire going on over the nearby hill.

The trees, without a single leaf left, will lose their definition as we observe them from trunks to twigs, and they become a mousy gray mass at the top, where they meet the golden and purple sky.

All the field of grass will be brown and quiet, not a breath of breeze to disturb it. But no, a rabbit just jumped out of a clump of bushes we were passing and darted in a triangular pattern into another hedge.

Down the road a ways, some little boys will be playing football in the park, in their imaginations identifying with their NFL heroes of the time. As they fall and roll they collect bits of the brown grass and dead leaves on their coats and stocking caps.

The next day we can return to the concerns of Iraq and our own stumbling democratic discourse. Just for this day it is better to forget it all and to lose one’s self in a revery of the scene of frost and trees and boys playing. That’s what I can be thankful for.

Finis

NOTE: Due to historical changes since this essay’s first version was published in the Monahans News (Nov. 22, 1979), I have altered its content so much as to render it almost a different writing.
— BL

.

The Ultimate Texas Brags

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A Halloween decoration set up this month in the yard of a modest-size home just a few blocks from the author’s residence. (Photo: Courtesy of my ol’ fast-drivin’ buddy, Pancho Castillo, Las Cruces, NM.)

© 2015 By Bob Litton. All Rights Reserved.

NOTE TO READERS: I really wanted to wait until October 30th (the day before Halloween) before publishing a post about one of our favorite festival days. However, since I have to travel 65 miles next Monday to have another molar extracted, and 205 miles on Tuesday for a cataract operation on my left eye — the right eye was operated on last Tuesday — I realized that I will be either too busy or too tired to write this post the coming week. Of course I know that I could compose it now and hold off on publishing it until October 30th; but, as I have mentioned before, I haven’t the will-power to hold any production in my hot little hands more than a few hours. That’s just part of my horrific destiny!

*  *  *  *  *  *

Too Big

The booklet of out-sized jokes Texas Brags was first published in 1944 and reportedly saw as many as 20 later editions. Amazon.com’s site indicates the book is now out of print. Written by John Randolph and illustrated by Mark Storm, Texas Brags at the time was seen purely as a joke book full of exaggerated depictions of what it was like to be a Texan and to live in Texas; it was not taken seriously by many people, not even Texans.

Now, though, the title of the booklet, as well as its tone, has been adopted by our governor for the design of the state’s official web page. It is another example of the governor’s office’s on-going drive to lure industries from California and elsewhere. It turns my stomach.

Nonetheless, I am a Texan, and the bigness applies even to me. At the first of my time in the air force boot camp, I had to march and go to classes and chow wearing the initially issued pith helmet for an extra two weeks while the supply clerks located a fatigue cap that would fit my 7-5/8 skull.

Ever since then, finding shoes — without special-ordering them — has been an increasingly onerous task: it seems that with each additional millimeter in foot length the choices in patterns decline.

A month ago, a VA doctor ordered an elbow support pad for me. When it arrived, I could not pull it above my wrist; it was a Size Small. There were four other sizes available, according to the box my pad came in. I measured my elbow and discovered to my surprise that I would barely be able to insert my arm into the Extra Large, for my elbow’s circumference measured 33-1/2 cm, while the Extra Large was designed to fit elbows from 32 to 34 cm. But I got a replacement, and it will do.

The size problem more insistently struck home a year ago, though, when my dentist, pointing to an x-ray, said I had the largest sinuses he had ever seen.

And then, last week, when I was being prepped for the cataract surgery on my right eye, the ophthalmologist noted that the depth of that eye measured 27 mm, while the smallest depth is 21 mm, and the average is 23 mm. I asked the doctor if there is any advantage to having a large eye depth.

“There is a slight risk of a tear or a detached retina,” he replied.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “I’m not quite six feet tall, and I am not nearly as heavy as a lot of men I see, yet I hardly fit into anything. And now you tell me that even my eyeball is bigger than normal.”

“It is all a matter of proportion,” he said.

So, nothing to brag about, I concluded.

*  *  *  *  *  *

And back we go to Halloween

Every year about this time, the media get saturated with documentaries about vampires and werewolves as well as the more academic aspects of our celebration of the dead — for instance, the contrast between Anglo-America’s treatment of Halloween and that of Hispanic-America’s. (It is a more serious event down south — “El Dia de Los Muertos” — where the natives allow themselves a more intimate relationship with the dead.) There are also the simply entertaining televised features such as Charlie Brown’s adoring the “Great Pumpkin”; and Hallmark Channel’s “The Good Witch” both frightening and enlightening a small New England town.

Last year, I published on this blog a “mood editorial” about Halloween which I had written for The Shorthorn, UT-Arlington’s student newspaper. Some of you might enjoy perusing it today at: https://boblitton.wordpress.com/2014/10/23/reflections-on-a-jack-o-lantern/

I haven’t much to add to that piece. I still prefer Halloween and Thanksgiving to all the other festivals in our nation. Halloween is not a holiday, i.e., the public offices and schools do not close on October 31st. And yet more money is spent during October than is spent on Christmas, New Year’s Day, or any other celebration here. That is what I have read in newspapers over the past few years, and I still find it hard to believe. To think about it for a minute, though, we buy a hell of a lot of candy during this month, and chocolate is pretty damn expensive. Then there are the costumes — rigs often designed to win contests at parties. The parties themselves are probably not cheap either; but I don’t go to any, so that is just a supposition.

When I was a child, I enjoyed the “Trick-or-Treat” part of Halloween. Since then, however, I lament the fact that “Trick-or-Treating” has become rather too dangerous; mean-hearted people have taken to slipping razor blades and poison in the sweets they parcel out to children who knock on their doors. Many communities have adopted the custom of arranging parties in public schools and community centers in lieu of letting their children roam the neighborhoods.

Even though some of my neighbors’ children still go out with the treat bags after sundown, they usually don’t visit my apartment complex, for the residents here are either elderly or not all-together in their wits…or both. In past years, I have bought a “bargain-size” bag of candy to dispense, but none of the little brats knocked on my door; so I, dreading the resultant weight gain, had to eat all the little candy bars. I don’t do that anymore: I just turn out all the lights after the sun goes down and venture off to my favorite bar.

For a Halloween “treat” I will provide you below with the URL to Mussorgsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain”, a segment of Walt Disney’s 1940 film Fantasia:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLCuL-K39eQ&list=PLQhqbTXltizz431wjB6XwyX2GLQYCZZi3
Enjoy!!!

Fin

 

 

Santa Claus’s and Darth Vaders

© 1982, 2011, 2014 By Bob Litton. All Rights Reserved.

NOTE TO READERS: Merry Christmas, everybody, and may the Force be with you…the light side of it, I mean. Well, the holiday season crept up on us even earlier this year; pretty soon “Black Friday” will come right after the Fourth of July. (Wonder how they will gerrymander that one.)

But people are beginning to “push back” on the merchants’ greedy ambition of extended holidays. We almost saw a revolution concerning the phenomenon this year, with employees complaining about the notion of opening early on Thanksgiving Day.

Years ago, I started holing away in my hovel during early December, not turning on the radio or the TV and reducing the number of trips to the grocery store so I could avoid the incessant clamor of bells and chipmunks. I believe that the Christmas season would be much more enjoyable if they would not decorate or display Christmas items until two weeks before Christmas: Let’s see, that would be December 11, according to my calendar. I know I would probably regain the pleasure from Christmas that I enjoyed as a small boy.

Since I do not have any fresh ideas concerning December 25th, I thought it would possibly be a pleasant entertainment for you if I republished a column I wrote back in 1982 for the Monahans News. I also included it in my CD-ROM, A West Texas Journalist, in 2011. I have added a couple of sentences (italicized) in the fourth paragraph, relating more of the experience: the additional content is factual; it just was left out of my original composition in the newspaper.
   Enjoy!!!
   — BL

* * * * * *

While over at Gensler Elementary a couple of weeks ago to photograph the main characters in the Christmas play, I couldn’t help but recall the time I played Santa Claus in the second grade.

At the time I thought it was a “bit part” because I didn’t have many lines and because I was so covered up in cotton beard and stuffed red suit nobody would be able to recognize me.

I recall only two other players—a boy and a girl playing precisely what they were.  Surely there must have been other roles, although in those days the teachers didn’t feel it was essential that everybody in the grade have a part in the Christmas play.

Only two children for whom to leave gifts and, wouldn’t you know it, whoever filled my sack had put in an odd number of presents. I discovered that discomfiting fact during our rehearsal; and, departing from the script, I stuck one arm in the bag to search for the missing present, then turned the bag upside down, frustrated. The teacher loved that bit of unintentional pantomime and told me to repeat it during the actual performance.  Ever since then I’ve had an intense dislike for long division, especially when there’s a remainder.

But the worst of it was, I botched up my only lines—the last words spoken in the play.  In fact, the curtain was to be closing as I uttered them.

There I was, down center stage with the curtains swishing shut behind me and all those adult faces in the auditorium waiting for me to say something.

I thought real hard and then I bellowed: “A good Christmas to all and to all a merry night!”

Only recently I’ve noticed that Santa Claus is not really a “bit part” at all, but is usually at the center of most Christmas plays.  Any boy who gets selected for the role should be proud of the fact and cherish the memory of it.

As a matter of fact, perhaps only children should play the role of Santa, since he is supposed to be an elf, isn’t he?  After all, a man cannot slip down a chimney, much less be towed through the sky by “tiny reindeer”—even eight of them.

*  *  *  *  *  *

This year, with Darth Vader in town, I’ve had occasion to observe that he is as popular among the little ones as Santa Claus.  Some of those kids huddling around him had been babes in arms when “Star Wars” was released.

This has to be the “Age of Favorite Villains”!  For adults, it’s J.R. Ewing; for the kids, it’s Darth Vader.  Their primary attraction, I suppose, is the flair and the absoluteness of their villainy.  You don’t have to worry about whether you’ll be called upon to understand them or to take sides with them.  They’re fun to hate.

I’m rather glad to see a return to the depiction of Evil as absolute.  Back when I was a kid, Walt Disney did a good job of it with his wicked queen in “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”.  Somewhere along the way, however, he and those who followed after his death became rather silly with their fumbling crooks and flying Volkswagens.

The best absolute rendering of Evil of late was in the TV mini-series production of “East of Eden”.  The female lead in that show, Jane Seymour, could really spit venom!

Of course, “Star Wars” and its sequels have a moral underpinning, too.  Luke Skywalker is supposed to get his moral training from the Jedi, but he hasn’t the stamina or the patience for it.  We got the impression from “The Empire Strikes Back” that Luke’s days on the side of virtue are numbered.

The only trouble with movies like “Star Wars” is that the audience doesn’t go to see a resolution of the conflict between Good and Evil.  Rather, they go to see the weird characters and the special effects.  The evil in Darth Vader is camouflaged by the absence of humanness in him; it’s as easy to adapt to him as it is to a video game cassette.

The paradox of Evil—that it is at once a separate “force” and yet inherent in humans—has perplexed philosophers of art at least since Plato, who believed plays should be banned because they accustomed the audience to an acceptance of the unreal.

For myself, I prefer to have the knowledge of Good and Evil writ large, especially in dramatic productions, so that “he who runs may read”.

                                                               — The Monahans News, December 23 & 25, 1982

Finis

Thanksgiving

©  2014 By Bob Litton

Some things you’re better off not looking at too closely. One of them is Thanksgiving.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re Christian, Jew, Muslim, or pagan. How can you count your “blessings” without their being contrasted with somebody else’s “lacks”? If you are blessed, are they therefore condemned?

How can we keep from choking on our turkey when we know people are starving here and across the world? Still, it is not, strictly speaking, our fault. We have tried to get food to war-torn areas as well as to places where natural disasters have rendered people homeless and even isolated. Even to share our “bounty” has sometimes become such a problem as to require diplomats, as was the case in Cambodia in 1979, when I published the original version of this essay.

And yet I wouldn’t have Thanksgiving not be. It has always been my favorite holiday — based on a religious origin yet not as heavily saccharine as Christmas, nor as ridiculously extended.

Many of us will be taking off to distant places (if we can afford the gasoline or plane tickets) in order to spend a few days with our relatives, whom we may not have seen for a year or more.

We’ll all disappear into warm houses and have a cordial meal. We’ll look at photos and watch three or four football games. If we’re wise and not too lazy, though, we’ll walk a few times around the park to aid digestion before we bury ourselves in those easy chairs.

That’s what I like about Thanksgiving, getting all muffled up with only the face exposed to get a red nose from the frosty air. It will be dusk, with just enough daylight to create an orange-red horizon as though there were a forest fire going on over the nearby hill.

The trees, without a single leaf left, will lose their definition as we observe them from trunks to twigs, and they become a mousy gray mass at the top, where they meet the golden and purple sky.

All the field of grass will be brown and quiet, not a breath of breeze to disturb it. But no, a rabbit just jumped out of a clump of bushes we were passing and darted in a triangular pattern into another hedge.

Down the road a ways, some little boys will be playing football in the park, in their imaginations identifying with their NFL heroes of the time. As they fall and roll they collect bits of the brown grass and dead leaves on their coats and stocking caps.

The next day we can return to the concerns of Iraq and our own stumbling democratic discourse. Just for this day it is better to forget it all and to lose one’s self in a revery of the scene of frost and trees and boys playing. That’s what I can be thankful for.

Finis

NOTE: Due to historical changes since this essay’s first version was published in the Monahans News (Nov. 22, 1979), I have altered its content so much as to render it almost a different writing.
— BL

.

Reflections On A Jack-o’-Lantern

© 1980, 2014 By Bob Litton

Even the most sophisticated civilization needs its rituals, and what best justifies a ritual is how thoroughly it manages to reforge the links in the “Great Chain of Being”—vegetable, animal, human and spirit.

Because Halloween achieves such integration so preeminently, it has remained one of our popular festivals, notwithstanding its dangers. Our spirits can be as unholy and mischievous as the law and our own good sense will allow. We let our Dionysian hair down—become good-naturedly silly.

The animal kingdom’s contributions to this celebration are of course the black cat and the bat. But the one is too common and the other too uncommon to be truly representative. It seems beyond question that the plant kingdom provides the symbol that is inseparable from Halloween: the pumpkin. As a natural lantern, with its decoratively carved features resembling at once both a foolish human and a grinning ghoul, the pumpkin in a single piece manifests the vegetable-human-spirit linkage.

Perhaps the most fascinating element of the pumpkin-turned-jack-o’-lantern is that such a transformation can happen at all. Is it not something of a miracle that a squat, ungainly gourd can by a few triangular gashings from one’s knife, a complete gutting and an inserted candle be changed into a personality? We are tempted to fall into “pathetic fallacy” and assert our pumpkin wanted to become a jack-o’-lantern.

One can hardly wait for nightfall to kindle the candle’s wick.  And when dark has come, the flame, flickering shadow-maker, is as mysterious as any fire under a witch’s kettle. By the sprite-like aura with which it invests the pumpkin, the candle’s flame contributes to the spirit element in the ritual.

From its position in the window or on the porch, the jack-o’-lantern’s grinning face forms an oval of warm light in the frosty night. It beams a welcome to those knowing enough to comprehend more than its spooky aspect.

Finis

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