Guy Fawkes

"Remember, remember the Fifth of November,/The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,/I know of no reason/Why the Gunpowder Treason/Should ever be forgot..."

It seems like this time of year is full of celebrations that have lost all relevance to their original purpose. Halloween was the first, and now Guy Fawkes... a night now devoid of all ideals and meanings - an excuse to spend hundreds of dollars so that an hour can be spent in the cold blowing things up and injuring the local populous. I can see slightly more point in the free city provided shows - the displays are far more impressive that anything that can be bought by the public. But even then there is very little to differentiate the fire work shows of November and the firework shows of New Years Eve.

Next will come Christmas and all the associated commercialism that comes with it. The buy buy buy mentality and endless impossible search for the perfect gift mixing with the stresses of providing the meal to end all meals and the ques and the crowds... its hardly surprising that both suicide and domestic violence rates increase in December. The 'season to be jolly' is now so full of stress and pressure that the family we should be embracing drives us loco.

But I guess loss of tradition is the price we pay for advancement. Or maybe it is that this country is still so young. We have kept the customs that the settlers brought with them, but unlike the people that held them dear, they have no relevance to the new nation. It never used to worry me but I catch myself thinking about it more and more. Maybe I just have too much time.

Besides, I should look on the bright side: The meaning of such holidays may be lost to most, but some still remember - things are not lost for good. The dog is, despite his current nervous state (still not recovered quite from the constant shifting of the earth), is blessedly unaware - or unconcerned - with the bright shiny explosions on the other side of the window. And I have reached this weeks writing goal two days early placing me ahead of schedule.

Its not all bad after all.

 

"...Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent/To blow up the King and Parli'ment./Three-score barrels of powder below/To prove old England's overthrow;/By God's providence he was catch'd/With a dark lantern and burning match./Holla boys, Holla boys, let the bells ring./Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!/And what should we do with him? Burn him!"