The Fourth of July

For the second year in a row, I watched the Hilliard fireworks from the window in our second floor playroom. Last year we were new in town and didn't know anyone, so Andy and I watched them together in our new house while Ben slept. Last night I watched them by myself while both boys slept. With the Ben and Andy's mom coming in yesterday late afternoon, we couldn't make it to any of the BBQs we were invited to (thank you for the invites!), so we had a quiet afternoon and early bedtimes for everyone but me. A highlight was our requisite trip to Handel's Ice cream - the new chocolate cake batter ice cream is divine. This isn't to sound self-pitying, it just seems that in recent years, the Fourth of July has turned out much like New Year's Eve: A holiday that you expect to do something grand and exciting but often turns out to be anticlimatic. In the past ten years, only one Fourth has been truly memorable.

It was the summer of 1999. I was working as a river guide in Jackson Hole, WY, and the tradition there was for the city to to do a huge fireworks display off the slopes of Snow King ski resort. All of us guides piled in to the big old school bus we used to haul the Boy Scouts to to the drop-off points of our river excursions and took our snacks, blankets, books, etc. to stake out our claim on the grass at the bottom of the ski hill. We spent a very enjoyable afternoon and evening hanging out, lauging, eating, and fooling around waiting for the extravaganza to start. And what a show it was. In my memory, the fireworks seemed to go on forever. Laying on my back in the warm summer night with lights blazing overhead, it was a little piece of heaven.

I love fireworks and hope that next year we will have a memorable Fourth. A fun BBQ topped off with everyone staying up late enough to watch the show. Lots of watermelon and ice cream and smiles all around.