So Glad THAT'S Over

When I was a kid, the 4th of July was something I always looked forward to. By the last day of school, I was torn between wanting the summer days to last forever and wanting them to hurry up and get to the good stuff, like The 4th Of July. We'd start celebrating with buying fireworks around June 28. When I say fireworks, I mean piddly stuff, we were never the pyrotechicians Mike's family always was. Snaps and snakes and metal sparklers for me, bottle rockets & Black Cats for Brub & Roni. And for our grand finale, some Roman candles and a a fountain of some sort. The only variation we ever had was maybe one year we'd get the tanks and the next year the chickens that lay the "eggs". On the 4th, we would start out the day by going to Seneca's parade. We'd watch my cousins and uncles ride their horses proudly through the streets of Seneca. From there we'd go buy some chicken and potato salad or maybe some macaroni salad and we'd head on over to the stomp grounds for my Grandma Stovall's birthday party. The whole family would show up. The only time every one would be at the same place at the same time. My mean cousins, who I always tried to shy away from, keep my distance (one of which is Mitchell, who Mike rides bikes with now), would have fire cracker fights, throwing lit black cats or bottle rockets at each other. Yeah. It's a miracle no one ever got seriously injured. If it got really hot, all us kids would run down to the bluffs and jump in the lake and swim awhile until we got hungry or tired, which ever came first. Then we'd climb up that 20 foot bluff, out of that dirty water, which we didn't care about, and try to keep our feet as dust free as possible. That was impossible, and I don't even know why we tried. When we got back to the rock house we'd rinse our feet off anyway at the hydrant. We'd eat some water melon, drink some Pepsi, and wait for our parents to be ready to go. Then, we'd go home and wait. It would take DAYS it seemed for nightfall to come. Finally, we'd get our quilts gathered up and we'd head back to Seneca for the big fireworks display. Simpler days called for simpler fireworks displays. The fireworks would finally start, after all us kids ran around and found friends from school then found our parents' quilts in a sea of patchwork quilts and parents. One big firework at a time. Never more than one at a time. And after each one we'd each give it it's due accolades of "ooo, and ahhh and That's my favorite". Every now and then they'd throw in a loud BOOM to shake things up a little. When the big ones were done, they'd light up the Seneca Indian and he'd shoot his bow and his arrow would travel on a wire to hit the target's bull's eye, then the American Flag would be lit up in lights of red white and blue while The Star Spangled Banner played on some one's rickety player over the football field's PA system. But, the fun wasn't over yet. From there, we'd head on over across the street and play for an hour or so at the carnival. Never one to have enough guts to ride on the Farris wheel, we rode on the scrambler enough times to make our parents wonder if we'd throw up on the way home. When, after all that excitement, we'd get home again, we'd light a few more fountains and a few more sparklers making sure to "never drop the burnt metal sticks on the ground or you'll step on them barefooted and that'll burn!" I always had the hardest time falling asleep. I'm sure it took me 10 whole minutes to get to dream land. And you know, I don't remember EVER stepping on a hot wire from a sparkler that was dropped.