Pyro--The best mania of them all.

As I think back on the whimsical days of my youth, the thing that stands out the most is/was my my overpowering fascination with fire. Since hunched-over homos came out of their caves and became sapiens, Man (not Woman) has been unalterably drawn to the flame like so many moths (probably male ones). Holy crap! Making fire used to be harder than Chinese arithmetic! A guy had to wait for who knows how long for lightning to strike a tree or fellow homo that was close enough to him so he could get a good blaze going before the rain put it out. Maintaining that spark was no mean trick either. Even if he got it back to the cave, his mom/wife would just yell at him to "get that thing out of here! You'll ruin the drapes!" I would imagine there was an inordinate amount of charred skin and flaming faces before somebody (a guy) got brave/hungry enough to take a bite out of a lightning-struck brontosaurus and said, "Hey, anyone got some Bullseye barbecue sauce? This is tons better than raw." "Look Oogah- Boogah, how it's all brown and tasty instead of red and tough to chew."
Back in the 80s there was a movie with Rae-Dawn Chong (Tommy's daughter) and Ron Perlman called "Quest for Fire" that I thought was excellent and covered this subject quite well. That was during my I-don't-pay-attention-to-movie-ratings period so it may have been rated R or PG 35. I just remember that there were no real English-type words or subtitles but you could understand what the different tribes/people were saying. It's probably out there on VHS some place and would be worth watching. But, I digress, this is supposed to be about my pyromaniacal youth.
Much like others of my ilk, age, and gender I found I could make my very own conflagrations with only one match if absolutely necessary. Ah yes, matches. What a marvelous invention! Probably invented by the Chinese. Those little yellow suckers invented all sorts of cool stuff like pizza and gunpowder. Who'd a thunk eventually you would be able to rub a little red-tipped strip of cardboard against an almost slick black stripe of who-knows-what-the-heck-that-is, and POOF, flame at your very fingertips.
Probably a neophyte's first encounter with the uncontrollable attraction is the campfire. Be proud Mom & Dad (especially Dad) you started the little bugger on his way by introducing him to the great outdoors. LITTLE BOYS PLAY IN THE CAMPFIRE. It is a given. You could no more stop them than you could, with your puny arm, divert the course of the mighty Rillito if it ever runs again. My parents also contributed to my mania by living in Atomic City, Idaho. Much like most small (I mean waaay small) towns then and now, there were no laws against starting fires on your own property (or other people's for that matter). Why we even had the audacity to burn weeds and such without a permit, fire department, hose, or much sense. We, like most if not all the residents of good old A. C. had a 50-gallon barrel in the back yard that we would put our trash into, set it on fire, and let it burn down to ashes. Once the barrel was full of ashes, we (eventually me) would load it into the back of our pickup, haul it out to the town dump (more stories of that place to come later), empty it down the slope of rotting refuse, then bring the empty barrel back to start the process all over again. Sounds like loads of fun, eh kids?
One time when I was probably in high school, I put the trash in the burn barrel but, since it was rather windy (when was it NOT windy in G. O. A. C) I decided to help make the trash more burnable by adding some gasoline. I grabbed the jug o' gas that we used for the lawn mower and poured the entire contents over the trash in the barrel (it was REALLY windy ok?). At this point I realized I had forgotten to bring matches so I went back into the house to get some. In the meantime the gas I had poured on the trash was seeping oh so merrily to the bottom of the barrel. When I returned with the matches I struck one and BOOOOOM!! I invented the 50-gallon garbage howitzer. The barrel was EMPTY! Unfortunately the contents were now not-so-neatly distributed from hell to breakfast all over our back yard. Pa was NOT amused.
Well kiddos, it's late and I have rambled enough for one sitting. Tune in next time for tales of burning a cat, an outhouse, and our garage (almost twice)...Dad/Grandpa