By Caroline Clemmons
Happy holiday weekend! At least it is to those of us who live in the USA. For those of you who don't live in the USA, I hope you have a pleasant day wherever you are. If you have an extended weekend, I hope you spend it enjoying yourself. Traditionally, it’s a great time for family reunions, picnics, barbecues, and the start of vacations. Those of you who love the sun, rejoice. As for me, I’m a fan of spring and fall when the weather is more moderate than our triple digit degree days. We should erect a monument to whomever invented air conditioning!
One of the delights of the weekend is attending a community firework displays, usually held at a park or lake. These are controlled fireworks which do not threaten anyone’s roof, grass, or people. (In spite of them being against the law in the city limits, we hear them from July-6.)
Back
when I was a girl and had to walk uphill to school both ways through
snowdrifts, I remember the few times we had fireworks. The first was when I was
six and we were at my grandmother’s on a visit. I loved these visits for two
reasons: 1. My grandmother pampered me. 2. My dad got bored after a couple of
days and would entertain me. So, that year he succumbed to my pestering pleading asking politely for fireworks.
You
have to understand what a really big deal this was. My mom was way
overprotective and didn’t want her little princess to do anything that might
involve danger. Second, my folks could pinch a penny until Abe Lincoln begged
for mercy. Daddy bought me sparklers and this thing called a black snake. You
lit the little black pill in the container and the pill expanded up like a
snake about to strike and then flowed over the container where it quickly
dissolved to mush. I wasn’t too impressed with it. The sparklers, on the other
hand, fascinated me.
If you have fond memories of past July 4th weekends, let me know in the comments.
