The 4th of July hearkens childhood memories. Hot weather. A national holiday a week before my birthday. Family picnics. And the annually retold story about my Uncle John. My Uncle John was a rambunctious boy. He and his brother Dan were "full of meanis" and would pick on their younger sister, my mom. Just typical boys. However, one 4th of July my Uncle John decided to play with a firecracker. It was in his mouth like a cigar, I believe, when it went off in his mouth and hand.
He was lucky. Grandma probably stitched him up and somehow major injury was avoided.
As a result, I wasn't allowed to play with sparklers as a child. I remember my cousins and I would be allowed to sometimes light, but mostly watch these little lotus flower fireworks that spun around quickly.
A few years ago, that side of the family had a reunion on the 4th of July that I was able to attend. We had fun, food, family and after dark, fireworks. My uncle Dan lives out in the country, so the plan was to light the firecrackers on the edge of the field. It had rained earlier, so the field was wet. Some of the guys were in charge -- they lined things up, kept the kids at a safe distance, and we had a lovely time. And a safe time. Uncle John enjoyed it from the carport. I think the noises set off his hearing aid, but he was glad to see that it was organized and safe.
The folks around here in KC start setting off fireworks around July 1. Big boomers. Loud ones. Our cat, the birds, and neighbors's dogs are spooked. The fireworks lovers can't even wait until dark for part of it. So what should be a peaceful three day weekend turns into 4-5 days of becoming a nervous wreck from the startling noises. Nevermind that setting off fireworks is illegal in KC, MO. And that our neighborhood has lots of police living here.
I hear thunder outside, and we just had a little rain. The weather folks are calling for more rain tonight. Thank goodness. Maybe we can get some sleep. And hopefully no child will try to smoke a firecracker.
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