The Way It Was

I began doing a little reminiscing about some of the Fourth of July doings when I was young and living with my parents.

My father LOVED fireworks. The first memory I have of my father that is associated with fireworks was the time he decided to teach me about fireworks and danger. I must have been six or seven years old at the time. I’m pretty sure he cooked this little object lesson up by himself as am fairly confident Mother would have put a stop to it. I remember going into the kitchen with him and watching him drop a lit firecracker into a metal coffee can. Or maybe he lit the firecracker and then covered it with the coffee can. Give me a break here... I was little. This he did in the kitchen sink. Yep, I’m pretty sure Mother had nothing to do with it. I don’t honestly know at this point if it was an object lesson, or if he was trying to show me the power and fun of fireworks. If it was the former, he made his point. I never did like shooting fireworks.

Although he never won me over to the joy of shooting fireworks, I did enjoy watching, and he enjoyed shooting. He was a man with fireworks in his blood. I don’t know what he did when he was a kid, but I do know what he did as an adult.

Our Fourth of July celebrations were at the local country club. We stayed at home during the day trying to keep cool. During the hottest part of the day, we ventured into the heat to head to the club and have a picnic dinner. We made our reservations ahead of time and enjoyed a meal on the lawn in the heat. Lovely, really. Each year an extravaganza of exploding sky lighting big booming fireworks topped off the celebration. I loved sitting on the blanket on the grass, tilting my head backward, and going ‘Ooh, aah, ooh, aah’.

The man with the punk, the leader of the pack, the one in charge of the exploding sky lighting big booming fireworks was none other than my father. He was having the time of his life. This was the culmination of the fireworks year for him. He spent time with a catalog of exploding goodies when it arrived. He selected each and every exploding spectacle, and was like a kid in a candy shop. This was his ‘fun’ thing to do.

He hand picked help each year and lingered around the club getting ready for the big show. He was a stickler that anyone shooting fireworks would be absolutely alcohol free. One drink meant elimination from the fun. This man who led me into the kitchen to enjoy seeing what a firecracker could do under a coffee can had safety at heart. I try to remember that.

As I watched the fireworks this year, Father crossed my mind. He passed away a number of years ago, but I always think of him when I see fireworks. I’m sure he would have loved seeing the greatest show around. Actually, I’m sure he would have been there with the guys having a fabulous time. Several at the party came up to me later and mentioned that they thought about him and knew he would have loved it. It really was fabulous. I can’t wait for next year.