My 4th Of July

Saturday, 5 July 2008 02:54

This was my 4th of July:

I went to Santa Maria, California for the Fourth of July holiday. An interesting point here, after many years in LA county, where fireworks are forbidden, this is not a “dry” county – they actually let you buy those “safe and sane” fireworks. In fact, they sanction parking lot celebrations in major shopping centers, and everyone pulls into a space, breaks out the portable grills and blows stuff up. There’s even a typical fireworks stand right there, to make it a unique “one stop shopping” experience.

I bought a package, myself. It was one of those ‘we never’ moments – we never had the money to do this when I was a kid, so I indulged and bought a large box of explosives, deceptively entitled a “Family Pack,” with all sorts of neat goodies inside.

I joined in the party, broke open my present to myself, and started the typical, modern 4th of July celebration – no one really thinking about the actual reason for this Independence Day. It was just a holiday. One that lets people buy firework gizmos with amazing names like, Devil’s Favorite, King Kong and (I’m not joking) Golden Shower. We set fire to flaming fountains. Each red, white and blue package proudly labeled “Made In China” at the bottom.

The parking lots are near a community center or fairground that had an actual fireworks presentation, and everyone stopped lighting their over-priced baby fireworks to watch the real thing. That’s when it hit me. That’s when the thoughts came quickly:

The fireworks shot up, with major resounding explosions. The night was foggy, so the usual bursts of burning light were muffled into bright glows of color against a cloudy background. It was difficult to see the exact location of the bursts – to judge the distance and direction. There was still sulfur smoke moving across the lot, due to the hundreds of people lighting fireworks. People rushed all about to find a good location to see the lights in the sky, running this direction and that. Cars trying to leave the lot were honking at those who had stopped to look up.

The only thing that was missing was real weapons. The sights and sounds were not unlike a real war, not unlike the sight I’m sure Francis Scott Key saw when he wrote the poem that we know as the Star Spangled Banner. When he wrote “the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air.” I remembered the descriptions of a friend who returned from Iraq: Mortar fire, explosions in the distance, smoke across the desert, people running for shelter.

I remembered that my grandfather, a decorated WWII veteran, could never sleep with a ticking clock in the bedroom after he returned – he would awake with a start, thinking it was a bomb in the middle of the night. I wondered how many people were now back form the desert, and wincing at the sounds of celebration, the explosions in the night. Fighting the urge to duck for cover or moving their family to safety – or avoiding this night all together, due to the memories.

There we were, looking at pretty lights. Oohing and aahing at big explosions. Explosions that were originally geared as a remembrance. A remembrance of sacrifice and loss. Sacrifice and loss that allow us to have the big parking lot gatherings, the hot dogs and burgers at family get-togethers. The freedom to speak our minds and watch cable, buy computers and surf the internet, make fun of life or be totally serious.

If you are one of those who has sacrificed, I want to stop playing with my poorly-named Blazing Rebel firework and thank you. Thank you for standing up for our Country, no matter what the opinion of the war you have fought or are currently fighting. Because of what you and our forefathers have done, I get to write this article – no one censors it or tells me I can’t. In this country, despite it’s flaws, we say I can. I can express myself for all who wish to see. I can make someone laugh or think. I can spark debate and argue opinion.

I’m free. Thank you.

This was my fourth of July.