Playing with fire: A party trick for a new audience

Don’t play with fire. It is a simple rule that many of us learned as children, especially for those of us who remember a time when matches were a common household item. But if humans hadn’t gained mastery over fire, through means we would probably consider playing, where would we be as a society? 

The recent devastation on the West Coast is proof enough that the element of nature is not to be taken lightly. Countless people’s lives have been uprooted, or otherwise turned upside down, due to uncontrolled blazes. The use of controlled fire, of course, still has a place in the modern world. While one half of our country is suffering from wildfires, the other is facing blistering cold temperatures. There’s a lot of folks staying warm next to a good old-fashioned fireplace. 

Fire is also essential in agriculture and forest management, with a controlled burn still one of the best methods to control weeds and undesirable brush growth. The ashes left behind serve as a natural fertilizer, adding significant amounts to potassium and calcium, as well as other nutrients, to the soil. 

Historically, several civilizations around the world used fire in religious and other cultural ceremonies. From this was born fire-eaters, people who seem to have an unworldly immunity to the harsh heat and control of the damaging flames of fire. In medieval times fire-eating became a form of merriment, and now fire-eaters are a common part of the entertainment menu of every circus, fair, cruise and resort.

 I am among the ranks of fire-eaters. Though only at the amateur levels, I have dined on the orange, flickering flame several times for the enjoyment of a captive audience. Be it noted I’ve never been burned, by fire or spectator. 

Now, I’m not spinning a burning torch, tossing it in the air and deftly catching it, or spewing massive fire balls into the air. My fire eating is a simple party trick – strike a match, and while the small flame is at its brightest, eat it. Enclosing the burning match in tightly sealed lips quickly suffocates the fire. Add a little flair at the end by blowing out a stream of smoke, or if you’re good enough, a smoke ring. 

Recently I found myself in front of a new audience to impress with my parlor game. To celebrate her birthday, my daughter wanted to host a sleepover. She wanted to invite 10 friends, the entirety of her dance team. Invite away, I said, thinking a few of them would have other obligations. They all RSVP’ed. What a fool I was. 

So, while preparing for a scheduled craft my wife was organizing, 11 little girls were getting loud. To occupy their attention, but mostly quiet them down, I grabbed the matches. I doubt Houdini ever got as good of a reception as I did as the kids watched in awe as the flame disappeared behind my teeth. 

They made me do it twice. It tasted terrible, and I’m pretty sure it’s bad for me, but it bought my wife time to distribute an activity. And it bought me a little quiet. 

 I guess sometimes it is OK to play with fire.