When I was a kid, the overnight casualty rate among jack-o-lanterns spiked sharply after Halloween: neighborhood kids grabbed the biggest and best and smashed them in the street, leaving the carnage for adults to sweep up in the morning. It was kind of a thrill, going to bed knowing this secret violence would take place while I slept; perpetrated no doubt by older boys, highschool boys, mysterious creatures with unknown motivations. Parents grumbled about the mess, but in retrospect I realize it was never a big deal -- Mom could easily have moved those pumpkins to the back yard out of harm's way. But everyone understood their role in the rituals of harmless mischief. I'm disappointed now, when our half-dozen home-grown pumpkins languish day after day on the front steps, molested now and again only by squirrels. Gone by now of course, with turkey day fast approaching. But just this week I snapped this photo evidence of deflated waste in a dumpster two blocks from work -- and I think how much more interesting and proper it would have been for these jack-o-lanterns to have met a sticky end on a sidewalk somewhere. Seems like mindless destruction has take a much more serious turn these days. What an odd thought.
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