The 4th of July used to be my favorite holiday. That was before failed ear surgery for tinnitus and the resulting hyperaccusis, which is the inner ear’s inability to filter out sound. Now, a Lady Finger practically sounds like an M-80 going off in my brain. Age tends to alter one’s perceptions. What used to be a blast (as in fun) is now misery.
In our little burg, it’s fair game to set off fireworks the entire week leading up to July 4th, from sun-up until midnight. This means I may be wearing earplugs, inside as well as outdoors, for the next seven days. I don’t begrudge the neighborhood punks lighting up their punks, though. I can remember racing to the fireworks stands to purchase Lady Fingers and Black Cats. Now, it all seems like money up in smoke, but fifty years ago I had to have ‘em.
Big Brother Beans and I weren’t satisfied with the regular ol’ sound our firecrackers made. We’d kick it up a notch by placing them inside our swing set cross bar or underneath tin cans, just to make the explosion louder. And, of course, we’d twist a bunch of fuses together to make double the noise or, if we were really in the mood for a quick fix, blow up an entire package of ‘crackers at once. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
As I got older, I outgrew the thrill of being an amateur “pyrotechnician,” but Beans never did. He just got crazier once he could afford bigger and better explosives. In fact, I’ve refused to celebrate the 4th of July with him ever since the time, probably 15 years ago or more, when he shot a Roman candle at me. I suspect he was under the influence of more than his lust for patriotism, but that experience was enough to have me running for safety. Permanently. Now, I am content to just stay at home, light up a sparkler, wave it around a few times, and call it a night.
4 comments:
I love sparklers and even they are taboo here. The smoke from the recent fires is still with us. My favorite Fourth activity is the parade in a little town called Clayton, Ca. They have Spanish horses, Boy Scouts and a pie booth that my husband raids afterward. Cherry pie with ice cream on the deck later is our big treat. I usually spent the Fourth holding a quivering pup who jolted at every blast. It's something I am glad they outlawed.
Oh, our neighbor's poor yappers just go bonkers. All the cats do is just look upward, wondering what's going on. ---I'd have to go for apple pie and ice cream!
I love love love the 4th and all the sights and sounds. That sucks it bothers your ear. ;(
Put them plugs in girl and still look at all the lights. ;)
surely you didn't count your stint as weekend KODE newsgal as one of your "unsexy" jobs. come to think about it, we didn't have anyone to check our makeup, and we didn't get free clothes to wear from a local store. as usual, we were the trailblazers without the perks.
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