Fire It Up!
While uniquely capable of finding and procuring the ‘right gift’ for almost anyone, I constantly struggle to recognize holidays. I have the ‘big ones’ down, Yom Kippur, Hallowe’en, and my own birthday, but I rarely remember Memorial Day, President’s Day, or Labour day until I’m already at the Post Office cursing their hours.
This being said, for the past couple of years, I’ve been having a hard time remembering the Fourth of July. In my defense, it seems that people in the States now begin firework training, for the Fourth, weeks in advance. (As well as continuing for months afterwards.) Consequently, by the time the actual holiday shoots itself off, I’m at the grocery store finally comprehending the reason for the six-foot-ten Roman Candle display.
Having dated more than a mortar of pyromaniacs, it would be fair to judge that I’m kind of an idiot for forgetting the Fourth of July. However, past and present pyros have always presented me an ignition of reasons to celebrate this holiday. One of my favourite reasons, being the names of fireworks: The Golden Shower Fountain, Degenerator, The Punisher, Red, White, & Boom, Saddam Bomb, One Dumb Cousin, Shotgun Wedding, Dirty Dancing in the Sky, Warm Greeting, Acid Rain, etc.
This past Fourth of July, I discovered the advantage of taking in ‘porch fireworks’. Boy Wonder and I live in the SE quatrain of Portland, in a rather colourful neighborhood. There are all types in our hood and I’m pretty sure every single one of them was lighting off fireworks within a half mile of the other one.
After BW hosed down our house and yard (thirty hundred small children + explosives = precautionary measures), we settled on our porch to take in the show, screams, and smoke. Porch fireworks, in my opinion, win over Downtown fireworks because you are able to move about without bumping into six thousand of your closest friends. With Porch fireworks, one can also refill a cocktail, take advantage of the WC, and cook a pizza during the show. (And all of these things can be done in considerably less time and danger than if one had ventured off the porch.) There are also no drinking and driving concerns and far less children to be stepped on while watching the sky explode, if you’re adorning your porch.
I’ve never been a big fan of children and am an even less bigger fan of screaming children, but I have to extend props to this year’s crop of kids and their fireworks. Normally, the children in our neighborhood spend the majority of their time riding their bikes, without concern for cars, pedestrians, or donkeys, and yelling racy comments to each other. I’m usually quite on edge until about my third glass of wine, as I don’t deal well with hours of loud noises. This Fourth of July, however, the screaming and yelling was almost amusing as the kids lit the fireworks and ran away stumbling over themselves. As with anything in life, it’s far better to watch someone trip over someone else while stealing away from incineration.
And it turned out to be quite a presentation! There was danger from potential smoke damage and dodging automobiles, cocktails, a lovely display of six or seven ‘grande finales’, and even a firework in the shape of a laptop frying itself. The entire intersection, where Boy Wonder and I live, was dusted in mortar clouds and the noise of kids who may or may been entertaining their own abductions. In short, it was not dissimilar to a war zone, but, like, the war zone you wanna be in. The festivities certainly weren’t forgettable, by any means…until next year when I’m cursing the hours at the Post Office again.
YouTube video provided by: Jaime Takikawa