Knowing the carved pumpkin as the most predominant and perfect Halloween symbol, would it be surprising to know they are a cheap substitute for the original deal? The Jack O’Lantern actually originates back to Ireland where a guy named Jack was lit one night and made a deal with the Devil; one last drink in exchange for his soul. (Sadly I’ve seen some of my closest Irish friends do something similar under the threat of a pub closing in Dublin).
The Devil changed form to that of a coin, intended to pay the barkeep for Jack’s last drink. Too-big-for-his-britches Jack put the Devil-coin in his pocket instead thinking he had the situation nailed sure the Devil could not change form again. Jack was sure he’d duped the Devil saving himself his side of the bargain. The Devil agreed not to return for ten years for Jack’s soul.
Fast forward ten years and VOILA, the Devil pops up for Jack’s soul. Jack tricks the Devil into climbing an apple tree to fetch him one last apple (a last meal of sorts), the Devil does and Jack carves a cross in the tree’s trunk trapping the Devil and saving his soul for good…or so he thought.
Years later Jack dies and goes to heaven but is denied entry due to lying, trickery and boozing. When he’s sent to Hell the Devil gave him the big ‘Sorry, No Room At the Inn’, remembering the broken promise and being treed like a raccoon chased by a hound dog.
Jack is thrust back to the human world as a damned spirit and has a total whine fest with the Devil about the way back being windy and dark (please!; you don’t have to live in the eternal damnation of the underworld with a guy you totally pissed off and you turn into a Nancy about the ambiance of the road to the living?!). The Devil mockingly tosses him an ember from the fires of Hell which Jack plants in a half eaten turnip creating a lantern to light his sniveling road home.
The Irish adopted the custom of exhibiting carved vegetable lanterns as a means to ward off unwelcome spirits (oh I can’t wait for the comments I’m going to get from my pals ‘across the pond’ about this). When the Irish potato famine drove mass immigration to the United States the custom of the lanterns came with them. Unfortunately turnips were not readily available in the U.S. so the pumpkin took its place.
The moral of the story? Always carry a credit card when going to a bar of course.
Stay tuned for a gem of a place to get pumpkins locally and what to do with the goop inside the pumpkin.
Seriously?!
The thai says
Peace at Last, the Truce shall Hold !
Anonymous says
Maybe I know the Thai after all.
Thai, given that we are both Irish and mostly Catholic, let’s ease up on the use of the word ‘abuse'. Gives me the willies.
Let’s go for a pint when I get to Bangkok. Please bring your wallet. You know the drill.
Blog author/Pumpkin, signing off now – hopefully you have been educated and entertained in equal measure. Stay in by the wall.
The Thai says
Ah Yes , The identity of the poster is now confirmed. It was indeed the trait of the Cavan Pimpernel (as he became to be known) to emphatically state “I paid that tab last year” when confronted by angry publicans waving pitchforks and torches. It was said, although he preferred entering a pub by the door, his exit was always through the window.
His reference to Cavan generosity is quite humorous as the only thing I’ve received from a Cavan Man is abuse. I’ll grant that he was generous to a fault with this gift over the years, insisting on bestowing it without need of request or encouragement.
It is with sadness, I note his assertion on my journey to the Land of Smiles from the golden state. Just like lemmings celebrating when a smart one stops running, the celebration is short lived as the cliff looms ever closer.
Jog on, my friend, Jog on ….. and enjoy the Tea (party).
I take umbrage with the poster’s assertion that the Irish have been held from greatness through the perils of alcohol and humor. Indeed, I will state that it is only with the aid of alcohol, humor and skepticism that we remain uniquely sane and in no need of Mr. Freud’s bolloxology.
In conclusion , I’ll remind you of the wisdom of the Irish over the years :
“I can resist anything but temptation.”
Oscar Wilde
“I only take a drink on two occasions – when I'm thirsty and when I'm not.”
Brendan Behan
“I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.”
George Best
With wisdom such as this, Ireland will be forever great.
The Thai
Anonymous says
I note that the Thai gentleman (benefit of the doubt extended) claims to know me. However, I cannot in all conscience confirm the acquaintance on the basis that his characterization of my sojourn through the pubs in Ireland in the 80’s has no basis in reality. For example, I recall settling a bar tab in late 1981 or perhaps in early 1982. Details.
In truth, though, I once knew someone who moved from the US to Thailand, a Dubliner to his core. We celebrated his move, acknowledging that his relocation improved the IQ in both countries. I understand that Thailand officially disputes this on the basis that Bangkok chickens, headless and legless, should be excluded from the computation. Notwithstanding the outcome of this debate, our celebration of his departure stands.
The Thai post has some redeeming value in that it reminds us of the differences that exist across our emerald isle. We often characterize our locality of origin through the medium of wit, often with an edge. Who in Ireland has not heard of the classic romanticism of the Dubliner proposing to his girlfriend (“You’re WHAT!!”), to the cute Cork socialite (“I have real jewelry but fake orgasms”) (By the way, I understand in the deep South the opposite is the case), to misunderstood Cavan generosity (“He will give you anything except money”). I will exclude the Northern Irish from this discourse; after all, they remain subjects-of-the-queen. Ignore them.
The Irish maintain a sibling rivalry, coupled with an affinity for alcohol and humor that has kept us from greatness, at least in the conventional sense, but hardly in our own minds. Someone once said that the Irish would rule the planet by now, if only they could be serious for a moment. Some insight there, as with Freud’s observation of the Irish (“A race of people on whom psychotherapy is totally wasted”).
The Thai says
I suspect the previous poster was lit himself while writing his comment. I have strong suspicions on the identity of this anonymous poster, revealed by his use of the endearing term “bolloxology” …. a term he uses far more frequently than other Irish colloquialisms.
Indeed, on reflection, I realize that certain familiar Irish phrases seem to be glaringly absent from his vocabulary. Terms such as “It's my round” or “That one's on me” seem truly missing from his otherwise extensive list of expressions.
I can attest to his claim to have traveled the length and breadth of Ireland sampling spirits. Indeed folklore has it that he was the singular cause of the demise of the bar tab in public establishments in Ireland in the late 80s being overly fond of creating tabs but allergic to settling them.
With regards to his fair comment on turnips in America or lack thereof , I would remind him that during those earlier times when natives outnumbered immigrants, turnips were indeed scarce in the US. Alas, the centuries have been kind to turnip growth in both the US and Ireland while common sense moves to the endangered species list.
In closing , I would like to compliment this poster, as I see in 2010, He has finally mastered the Thesaurus capabilities of Microsoft Word. I would encourage him to contact me directly if he wishes to continue to asymptotically approach technological literacy.
– The Thai
Anonymous says
Well, well. What we have here is truly a wild tale, with all the necessary ingredients of mid Atlantic obfuscation. A lit-up Irish guy, talking to the Devil at closing time, folklore of turnips turning into pumpkins, unwelcome spirits, and other such nonsense. Whoever heard such bolloxology!
So, let me inject elements of perspective and authenticity, lest the poorly informed mistakenly develop a less-than-favorable view of the Irish.
First, through observation rather than personal experience, I have noted that the Irish typically talk to God, rather than the Devil, at closing time (“Jaysus, I need one for the road”). As you stroll through, say, Dublin on a Saturday night after closing time, it is not uncommon to hear proclamations such as “O-M-G, I’m fookin’ dyin’”, a preamble to meaningful meditation at Sunday morning Mass, as the reformed perilously and asymptotically approach contrition. The Irish maintain a close and reverential relationship with God, at all times, based on mutual respect. Believe it. We have cracked the code.
Now let me deal with the turnip thing. The earlier comment from the Thai is indeed correct – there is no such thing as ‘bad spirits’ in Ireland. I spent much of my youth traveling the length and breadth of Ireland, sampling spirits of all kinds, and I can claim with absolute authority that no bad spirits exist. I am positive about this. This glaring inaccuracy of course then casts grave doubt on the follow-on notion of turnip carving. My mother never told me about such a practice – I am therefore compelled to disbelieve it. The blog author further claims that there are no turnips in America – I beg to differ. I have met many in the course of my life in the US. I believe I am working with a few, right now.
In closing, I humbly offer that goop is often found, separate from the pumpkin. This story is evidence of that – perhaps my commentary also – but you expected no less!
Neal says
“The Irish adopted the custom of exhibiting carved vegetable lanterns as a means to ward off unwelcome spirits” ………
Toni , How could you , I know of no spirit that's ever been unwelcome in Ireland : Wine, Whiskey, Vodka , Gin , Brandy ….. All are lovingly embraced !