Why June 16th, you ask? Well, that is the day my neighbors started shooting off fireworks in my neighborhood. Now don't get me wrong. I love America. I am red, white and blue through and through but seriously, three weeks of boom booms is three too many.
I have never been a big fan of fireworks. Being the oldest of three, I was cautious, fearful. My brother was the one who had a lighter and would ignite the little black snakes on the sidewalk. He was also the one who got in trouble for having his own stash of pyrotechnics. I am not sure if it is a guy thing, but I never had an interest in lighting things on fire especially after seeing those 4th of July PSA's where the dummy was ablaze after a firework went wrong.
My dad's shirt caught fire one year at the annual July 4th party my family would attend. He was not one to ever play with fireworks, ever, but this particular day, after a few drinks, he became incredibly adventurous. For my siblings and I, this was exciting. Our Daddy was about to do something we had never seen him do before. We were jumping up and down waiting for the little plane, with a wick, to take off and explode.
My dad lit the wick and instead of the plane flying away from him, it flew toward him. The burning hot firework went the wrong way and ricocheted off of my dad's chest. It was dark outside as we watched our overly excited dad running toward and jumping in a swimming pool. When he got out, we saw a huge hole in his shirt. Luckily, he did not get burned, but it looked like he did his best Incredible Hulk impression and had become very angry.
That incident may be a contributing factor to my standoffishness toward fireworks. But this year, their sheer proximity to my home was more than I could handle. We have always had neighbors set off fireworks. The ones set off a few houses down from us are nice enough for us to stand on our porch and admire. This family usually gets in on the act as soon as the fireworks tents go up at area shopping centers, and they even set aside a few for other random occasions like a Thursday in August.
But this year, another neighbor got into the act. His fireworks were exploding above my house and the sound was so loud you could not stand on the porch to view them or even look out the window in my bedroom, the closest room facing the stage of ignition. It was so loud I could possibly imagine what it might be like in a war zone. Plus, the sound reverberated off of a nearby brick building, which only intensified the volume. Maybe it is because my ears are 43 now, but I prefer quiet peaceful sounds like birds chirping, water running, air conditioners whirring, and even silence.
I told myself things would probably be their worst on July 4 and until 12:15 a.m. it was pretty darn loud. Luckily, most of the other nights, the neighborhood boom booms wrapped up by 10. Not last Sunday though, it was almost 10:30.
Again, I get it. Fireworks are pretty and possibly the most popular pastime associated with the 4th of July and I am a fun person but...is this really what Thomas Jefferson and the boys envisioned for future generations celebrating this most important day of our country's history?
In a letter to his wife Abigail, John Adams wrote Independence Day should be celebrated, "with Pomp and Parade, with Shews (shows), Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more." But if I am interpreting this correctly, he meant on the 4th not the 9th or the 1st and I'm sure he wasn't talking about any days in June.
So, tonight this ol' gal is sitting in her side porch oasis. I'm hearing my favorite sounds - breeze blowing, birds chirping. My pursuit of happiness is going pretty well. Will the bombs bursting in air soon cause a freedom ring in my ears? Oh John Adams, look what you started.
No comments:
Post a Comment