Taking A Stand: I tend to disregard firework warnings
The Fourth of July just wouldn’t be the same without the sound of fireworks piercing the night’s silence and without the smell of burnt powder in the air, a fireworks fog hanging just off the ground.
For many of you, I know it’s a blessing to have the Fourth over and done with since fireworks for many simply spell disturbance. This was doubly true this year when fireworks selling and shooting were made legal within the city limits. At times it sounded and looked like the night sky over Baghdad with explosions erupting all over the sky. It was almost like they U.S. had launched a missile.
However, for me, fireworks are a necessary evil to celebrate the Fourth. Just like the shot was heard around the world at Lexington and Concord over 200 years ago, Americans like getting a little loud and rowdy when it comes to the midpoint of summer.
I’ve been a huge fireworks fan ever since I was old enough to hold one without blowing my hand off. I can see my son will be the same as he danced around the yard Friday night like a crazed pyromaniac with sparklers in his hand. Remind me to hide the matches at the house.
Of course, with fireworks come responsibility. Fireworks should only be fired by adults and with proper safety precautions. Fireworks should never be fired at people or moving cars.
Yeah, right. I’m just lucky to have both my eyes and most of my fingers after my earlier years. Not too many years ago actually (the last one was about five years ago when I was old enough to know better) we used to have bottle rocket wars. These wars broke every rule of fireworks safety as we actively tried to strike our friends with moving projectiles, teaming up to defeat the other team.
There’s nothing to compare to a bunch of allegedly mature adults dressing up in camo gear and taking to the field with homemade rocket launchers to fire bottle rockets at one another. Of course, there’s nothing to compare to a whole pack of bottle rockets igniting in one’s pocket, which happened to me several years ago. Or, it’s hard to beat the bottle rocket running under your shirt and up your back as happened to my cousin a few years ago when I hit her on the fly why she was riding a bicycle down the street. I challenged her to get on my bike again this year, but she declined, even when I admitted I couldn’t make the same shot in a million years. Guess the odds still weren’t good enough.
While we were setting off fireworks Friday night, I began to worry about what Jack will do when he’s older. Looking at his evil grin with the sparklers, I have an eerie feeling he will be one of those crazy people out there doing bottle rocket wars when he’s a bit older. I will, however, forbid him from doing so, just as my parents did me. At the same time I’m forbidding, I’ll give him a pair of goggles and some ear plugs since forbidding only makes them want to do it more.
“You’ll put an eye out,” my mother used to say, stealing a line from “The Christmas Story” and the Red Rider BB gun., as I’d go out the door in fatigues on the Fourth knowing full well it was bottle rocket war time.
Now before you say I’m corrupting the youth, let me point out I wouldn’t recommend anyone do this. Of course, this is the pot calling the kettle black since I haven’t ruled out doing it again myself.
Your best bet though is to simply attend the Dr Pepper fireworks show each year since the fireworks are fired in the air, and not at people. By the way, the Milners outdid themselves this year, putting on the best show ever.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)