All about April fools

I'm not a big fan of April Fools' Day, or any kind of pranks for that matter.

Perhaps that's because I am more likely to be the one pranked than I am the mastermind behind the hoax.

My husband, on the other hand, can pull a prank with the best of them.

Our oldest was born the day after April Fools' Day, and I happened to go into labor on the dreaded day. My husband and his dad were out of town for work the four days prior, and I was anxious to say the least.

I had been staying with his dad's family for the last few days, because the baby was due any day and we didn't want me to go into labor alone.

We had gone out to eat that evening, and my mother-in-law noticed that I appeared to be in labor.

They were expected back home that night, so I called to tell my husband I was having contractions and that the baby was coming soon. He replied, "Well, we can't come home tonight. We have some work to finish in the morning before we leave here."

That just made me more anxious for the short drive from the restaurant to his dad's house.

However, when we arrived back at the house, there they were, sitting in the dark. Those pranksters even hid the vehicle so we wouldn't see it.

I was relieved that my husband was home, but not exactly impressed that he had made me nervous for the short drive.

We went to the hospital later that night, and our daughter was born the next morning.

Over the past two decades of marriage, I've often been asked to be in on little jokes and pranks he plays on other people, especially the kids. Sometimes I humor him and other times I just burst his bubble before he has a chance to blow it up.

I also have to be on guard, or else I'll get caught up in one of his little pranks. He can tell me a tall tale with a stone-cold straight face. The longer I've known him, the more I've learned to listen for clues that what he's telling me is a line of bull. On April Fools' Day, I don't believe anything he says.

So just where did this novelty holiday called April Fools' Day come from, and who started this nonsense? Well, interestingly enough, there isn't really a consensus among historians on that.

There's evidence of a similar observance in ancient Rome called Halara. Celebrated at the end of March by followers of the cult of Cybele, Halara involved people dressing up in disguises and mocking others.

Other historians believe April Fools' Day has its origins in the late 16th century, when France switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar.

The Julian calendar began in March, with the spring equinox, and was celebrated until April 1. On the Gregorian calendar, the new year begins on Jan. 1.

Apparently not everyone knew about or was willing to change when to celebrate the new year. Those who continued to celebrate in the spring were often made the butt of jokes and called April Fools'.

According to History.com, "these pranks included having paper fish placed on their backs and being referred to as 'poisson d'avril' (April fish), said to symbolize a young, easily caught fish and a gullible person."

April Fools' Day took Britain by storm during the 18th century. It was a two-day event in Scotland. Day one was known as "hunting the gowk," in which people were sent on phony errands (gowk is a word for cuckoo bird, a symbol for fool). Day two was "Tailie Day," when people played pranks on other's derrieres, such as pinning fake tails or "kick me" signs on them.

The April Fools' Day pranks have gotten more sophisticated and elaborate over time, and apparently media outlets have been tied up in many of them.

Do you remember the Taco Liberty Bell? I sure do. It's one of the biggest April Fools' Day pranks of all time.

On April 1, 1996, Taco Bell took out six full-page ads in major newspapers saying it had bought the Liberty Bell "in an effort to help the national debt." Congressmen were taken in, and the National Park Service held a press conference to deny the news. By noon, the fast-food chain had admitted the joke and donated $50,000 for maintenance of the Liberty Bell.

I don't know what Taco Bell paid for those six full-page newspaper ads, but they got an insane return on their investment. Some sources have calculated that the "free publicity" surrounding the Taco Liberty Bell story garnered $25 million worth of advertising. In addition, Taco Bell's marketing department reported that their sales spiked upwards to the tune of over half-a-million dollars during the week of April 1st, compared to the week before.

The lesson here: newspaper advertising is a good investment, especially with the right message and execution!

I found this Taco Liberty Bell Haiku that I just had to share:

Give me liberty

or give me death – and add a

taco on the side.

(by AB)

I've come to the conclusion that I like pranks much more when I'm "in the know," which is likely no surprise to any of you who frequently read this column. So, if you have a good idea for next April Fools' Day, let's chat. I'd love to execute a good hoax in print, and I'll enjoy it even more when the truth is revealed.