| Pagan Safety By Glen A. Harroun This is a subject that should be close to our hearts, yet is very much ignored in most print. Few Pagan authors talk about the dangers of flowing robes and lighted candles. Still less is said about the dangers of hot wax. Allow me to relate my tale of woe. The time is about four in the afternoon, on the 31st of October, 1995. All has gone very well today Geri and I have been busy preparing for tonight's celebration. All sorts of good smells are coming from the kitchen. The jack-o-lanterns are out on noncombustible surfaces. Several years ago we prepared them too long in advance. The lanterns dried out and caught fire about eleven o'clock at night, nearly burning down the porch. Going back further, fire and I are old friends. In 1981, shortly after we moved here, we were all a joy at the thought of being able to have a good fire of our own to celebrate the passing of the seasons. Since I had just purchased five acres devoid of life, except for some weeds, I felt we could build our bonfire anywhere we wanted. Just thirty minutes after the fire had really started to roar, I got to meet ranger Rick. I explained the religious significance of my actions to him and he explained the fire codes to me. I got so involved in the discussion over the next few months that I joined the volunteer fire department. Back to the present, the next chore was to hang the wind ghosts (plastic bags over hangers) in the trees at least seven feet off the ground. I did not want to repeat the historical night when a tall trick-or-treater walked into one of the ghosties, became disorientated, tripped over a shrub and nearly sued me. So, as darkness fell, the circle had arrived. The merriment of the night was moving into high gear. Guests found the gloves and tongs placed near the cauldron, used to put the dry ice into the warm water. The clouds of gas covered most of the ground; well actually, most of the cloud was blown away by the wind. There was talk of friends and relatives who had passed over during the preceding year. Offerings were made to those departed on the West Side of the house, and to the faeries on the East Side of the house. The offerings were placed carefully to avoid another incident of someone stepping in the wine, which stained a few robes and caused us several months of bad luck. The bonfire was really starting to burn well, so Geri put the last of the harvest into the flames. The offering consisted of several stalks of corn and several gourds in honor of the Lady and Lord and the five Elements. Another round of wine toasting the Lord and Lady. With a loud boom all our talk fell quiet. Was someone shooting at us? Another boom. Were the Fundies raiding our festival? The third blast and burst of embers into the air revealed that the gourds were exploding. Quick, put the out flames starting in the Blue Spruce next to the bonfire! Things became quite frantic for a few moments. My neighbor, who is the police chief of a nearby town and heads our block watch, showed up at the gate with his pistol in hand. Who's that shooting? He inquired. At that moment another gourd exploded and my neighbor, the cop, hit the ground or should I say mud. Now I knew what happened to the water meant to put out the Spruce. A great cloud of explanations began to well up in my consciousness. It was going to be a long night. My tale brings a little mirth, and a lot of caution. And remember to always put small holes in your gourds. | 
