The Fourth of July

Independence Day has always meant fireworks, food, and family. When I was younger my Dad would order a huge box of fireworks. They would arrive and be set on the big chest freezer on the back porch. We weren't allowed to shoot them off till the 4th; but every day we would look through the box, admiring them. Even neighbor kids would stop by for a quick inspection of the contents. There was an excited anticipation. While mothers were planning menus for that evening, kids were making bottle rocket shooters for an impending war in the park. Yes, we shot bottle rockets at each other for fun, along with roman candles. And I can only remember a few minor injuries. The smell of fireworks still brings back so many good memories. My older brothers shot off Black Cat firecrackers, while we shot bottle rockets out of an old tent pole. This seemed to go on all afternoon. Grandparents arrived, and sometimes out of state cousins. Soon there was the smell of hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill, along with potato salad, and watermelon. We waited patiently for darkness when Dad would give the go ahead to start lighting the "pretty" stuff. Roman candles, rockets, and fountains. Finally we would end the evening's festivities by gathering around Dad's blowtorch to light sparklers. There was always a quick word of caution to put those used metal sparklers in a bucket so they wouldn't get stepped on and burn someone's foot. The night was magical. The food, the smells; it was my childhood. Now, as an adult, I cherish those memories and smile when I see my own kids getting just as excited about the same things. Spending the evening at a friend's house, entertaining the small children. Helping light punks for those that are new to the whole concept. Heeding the same warnings that I once heard given to me. Life comes full circle. Happy Birthday America!