Fireworks on the 4th of July

Growing up, the Fourth of July was always an anticipated celebration. As a kid, I didn’t quite understand all the details of America’s fight for independence. But I knew that America was the place to be, and it was certainly worthy of its own celebration day.

One of the natural benefits of July 4^th was that it happened to occur in the summer. And that meant that there was no school leading up to the holiday. This gave the neighborhood kids ample time to collect their fireworks. Any fireworks transactions were kept on the down-low because they were frowned upon by the local law enforcement. I can understand why as they were dangerous and illegal.

And before we go any further, I don’t want to incriminate myself. I’m telling this story in the first person narrative to make it an easier read 😉.  In true “Dragnet” fashion, the names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty).

The fireworks were usually smuggled into our neighborhood from a neighboring state. We would sometimes get word that “the mule” would be making a run to Pennsylvania to make a purchase. Everyone would fill out their personal laundry list for bottle rockets, firecrackers, Roman candles and M-80’s.

Word would come down a few days later that “Bob” had the fireworks. You would have to know someone “on the inside” who would take you to “Bob’s” house for the purchase. It felt kind of wrong. But having fireworks, even a small collection, gave you some street cred in the neighborhood. So, you would make the journey to Bob’s house by snaking along through back alleys and vacant fields. And when you finally got to the house, there was usually a tunnel between two adjacent rowhomes that would lead you to the back entrance.

Once you reached the back door, the "escort" would announce your presence to Bob. You were then invited into a small kitchen where an assortment of fireworks would be neatly organized on a fold-up table. Although we were indoors, Bob wore a pair of sunglasses. It gave him a bit of a mystique. And no matter who “Bob” happened to be, like Roy Orbison, he always wore sunglasses.

As you approached the table, Bob would look down over his sunglasses and say something like, “You’re not a cop, are you?”

I have always struggled with the urge to blurt out a sarcastic reply. I so wanted to say to Bob, “Well, if we’re being totally honest here, I applied at the Academy. But they told me to come back in six years when I turned 18.”

Of course, I didn’t say this out loud for the fear of getting my ass kicked by Bob. It would also severely jeopardize my chances of leaving with some fireworks. So, I simply said, “No, sir.”

He then made a Don Corleone hand motion as if to say, “Pick out what you want.”

Having a limited budget, I would usually grab about ten packs of firecrackers, a few bottle rockets and three or four M-80’s.

On the way out, Bob would say, “Don’t tell anyone you were here.”

It was kind of a moot point as the whole neighborhood already knew who Bob was and what kind of business he was conducting.

As the morning of the fourth arrived, you could already hear the crack and bang of fireworks through the neighborhood. Occasionally, you would hear the deep concussion of a distant M-80. These things were brutal. You wanted to be extremely careful because they had the power to instantly turn your hand into a lobster claw. Looking back, we were very lucky that no one got seriously injured. Someone once told me that the M-80’s were used to blow fish out of the water. Once the fish was in the air, fishermen would catch them with nets. I personally have never seen any evidence to support this claim. It seems to me that the explosion would turn the fish into sushi.

As the evening rolled in, most of the community would gather at Garrett Park. We would light the remainder of our fireworks in the large open field. As darkness approached, everyone slowly migrated to the edge of the large hill where you could see Baltimore’s Inner Harbor in the distance. It was the perfect spot to witness the “official” fireworks show.

As the colorful fireworks lit up the Baltimore sky, you could almost envision Francis Scott Key penning the lyrics to “The Star Spangled Banner” at nearby Fort McHenry. Celebrating the 4^th in Baltimore back the day was something special.

As the Grand Finale concluded, the neighborhood residents would gather up their belongings and make their way towards home. Everyone got along and it was an overall festive day. And aside from the commotion of the fireworks, things were relatively peaceful. There was a real sense of community back then.

Today, the Independence Day celebrations are pretty much confined to the back yards. And the personal fireworks collections are obtained through a “open-air distributor” on a Food Lion parking lot. Maybe not quite as adventurous as it used to be. But nonetheless, a summer tradition.

Be sure to enjoy yourself today. And take a moment to reflect on the countless sacrifices and acts of bravery that went into making our great country. And please remember our troops who continue to fight to preserve our freedoms. Happy birthday, America!

kw