Extreme Fireworks

Mom told me she loved the fireworks when she was a little girl: she and her brothers and Grandma and Grandpa, of course they weren’t grandparents then, sat on a blanket and watched with ooo’s and aaahh’s for each new explosion. Fireworks were low on my list of priorities when I was a little girl. One year I found out why, and I longed to repeat that experience.

My great-aunt Anna was somehow related to Dad. She was nothing like anyone else in Dad’s family; Aunt Anna was tallish, and skinny, and she had dark hair. Those were all things that were different from the soft shapes and colors of Grandma and Dad’s brothers and his one sister, but that wasn’t the main difference. Aunt Anna was pinched looking, like my mouth felt after sucking lemons. I loved that feel, first all sour, then like my whole mouth felt cleaned out and waiting for something new. Aunt Anna had that look, like she got all puckered up with something sour, and she would do anything keep something new from getting in. Her lips were all puckered in like Mom’s got when she was holding in a mad feeling. Aunt Anna’s clothes were always dark and straight and she wore those kinda shoes that I only saw on teachers. Come to think of it, she kinda looked like a teacher.

When I was a little girl, I loved grown-ups, ’cause I could almost always make them laugh or at least smile. I liked to climb right up on a grown-up’s lap and sing this one special song that ended with ‘pull down your pants and slide down the ice.’ I forget the rest, but that last part always made grown-ups’ face look a tinsy bit like a balloon blowing up, with their necks getting taller, their eyes getting big with eyebrows shooting straight up, and their mouths going in a big ‘O’ until a big giant laugh came out like a happy shout. For sure, I would get a big hug and “Where’d you learn such a song?” like I was the most wonderful kid in the whole, wide world. When I got on Aunt Anna’s lap and sang that song, her face looked a whole lot more like one of those prunes Mom and Dad had for breakfast, except with all the color drained out: her neck went
up straight, right along with her whole back, and she pulled her face in so tight, I thought her lips would disappear. Mom sucked in her breath, grabbed me by the hand, and took me straight to the kitchen. I guessed she needed some help putting the silverware out for dinner. I was super-good at getting the fork on the left side, then the knife and spoon on the right, so I got that job a lot.

I lived about six miles from three different towns: one where our church and school and post office was, and where the telephone switchboard was; one where the grain elevator was; and one where Mom did the grocery shopping. Dad worked in the city, which was a whole lot further away. I hardly ever went there, except when Mom went to day-old bread place. Aunt Anna lived in the town where the grain elevator was. One year on the fourth of July, she asked Mom if I could go with her to the fireworks. Yippee, I got to go somewhere new, all by myself, no brothers or sisters along, and Aunt Anna only had one kid who was all grown-up and no grandkids at all. Maybe that’s why she looked so pinched up and stiff, not enough company.

Sparklers in the Suburbs are about the same as on the Farm.

When I watched fireworks from home, Mom and us kids sat on the front lawn and looked out toward town. Way, way in the distance, just above the treetops, if we kept an eye out, we saw flashes of color in the sky. It was a little like when Tinker Bell splashed her wand all over the Magic Kingdom, except in this case Tinker Bell was on another planet.

Most of the time, I couldn’t keep my eyes still on those treetops and Mom would end up saying, “Ahhh..Did you see that one?” and I’d look over really quick, but I missed it. After a while Dad lit some sparklers, now that was super fun: twirling and spinning the little metal sticks around in the air, making designs and writing my name. It was all over too quick.

When Aunt Anna took me to the fireworks, we sat in bleachers at the ball field, where the High Schoolers in her town played baseball. Music was playing, like Grandpa played on his tuba; music that just made me want to get up and march. There was a big American flag waving under a light. Aunt Anna said you can’t have a flag out at night without a light. Then all the lights went out and the fireworks started. I could never have dreamed up such a thing: big giant bangs like lightning striking, scared my pants off, then a shower of red white and blue sparks coming right down on my head, and a smell like rotton eggs everywhere. I thought I was going to burn live in all that fiery rain. I jumped down quick behind Aunt Anna and squeezed under the bleachers. Then I saw something even more spectacular than all that colored fire and lightning: Aunt Anna’s face looking all smooth and gentle, and small smile, just like the Virgin Mary’s when she’s holding baby Jesus, and those fireworks lighting up behind her, just like a halo. Aunt Anna reached out her hand, and said, “Come on up here and sit on my lap. There’s nothing to be afraid of; I’ll keep you safe.”

That was the best 4th of July ever.

I suppose it was near impossible to get nine kids in a car, late at night to go see fireworks and still be in a mood to oooo and aaaah the fireworks. I never forgot that night with Aunt Anna and the fireworks and the way her face changed when she saw how scared I was. I loved it all.

As wonderful as that was, my favorite night at the fireworks was the first time my soon-to-be-son-in-law, Ryan who works road-construction joined us. He, my daughter Cecily with her two-year-old son, G-Money and me settled down on a blanket with our traditional king-sized bags of M&Ms peanuts and plenty Diet Coke; don’t ask me why. We had a front-row seat just like with Aunt Anna. Ryan kept asking, “Are you sure we’re not to close?” to which we reassured him with words like: Don’t worry, we do this every year, and an occasional, ‘don’t be such a chicken.’ The wind shifted and smoke and the smell of sulfur filled the air, and ash and little bits of paper from the fireworks rained down on us along with a few of live sparks. Ryan’s face looked a bit like a balloon blowing up, with his necks getting taller, his eyes getting big with eyebrows shooting straight up, and his mouth going in a big ‘O’ until a big giant laugh came out like a happy shout.

2 thoughts on “Extreme Fireworks

  1. There is nothing better than fireworks! I remember the first time I saw them; it was at a park by my house. My mom was always a little scared of them, so it took lots of convincing on my dad and my part to get her to go. I was so excited. Now, I live on the beach, and every year one of the beach clubs puts on a show. There is nothing like sitting in the cool night sand, and watching the barge in the middle of the ocean launch the fireworks. It is breathtaking. They held the show last night, and each year we have friends over to join. One set has two little kids, and they have been coming since their youngest was 3. I know this show will give her memories that will last a life time!
    Happy 4th!

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