O O H , A A H … R E P E AT by Craig Ruhl As we walk over to the high school across the street from the community I live in, daylight quickly fades over the horizon and darkness fills the void. Spreading out our blankets on the hill next to the football field, we eagerly await the show to begin. Suddenly, from the playing field in front of us, a rush of light and sound rises into the sky. A second or two later, there is a brilliant flash and an echoing boom followed by a cascade of red, white, and blue secondary explosions. We hear the first oohs and aahs amongst the throng of onlookers filling the high school stadium bleachers. In quick succession, a series of rockets shoot into the night in an array that will light up the sky with waterfalls of exploding stars that slowly drift back downward. A thick cloud of smoke wafts across the field obscuring the brave men who scurry about tending the incendiary devices and watchfully ensuring the safety of the workers and the observers. It is the start of another annual celebration of America’s freedom.
30 | ON M AG A Z I N E N ACORNER ME FAITH EVERY
The above is one of my memories of growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s. The Fourth of July fireworks followed a day full of picnics, parades, and a lot of flags being waved. Families and friends gathered on lawns and driveways, often spilling out into the street. The neighborhoods were noisy, filled with the sound of laughing, and sometimes crying, children. Hot dogs, hamburgers, and corn on the cob sizzled on the charcoal grills. Bottles of soft drinks and beer for some adults sat chilling in galvanized steel tubs filled with ice. Card tables were filled with condiments, chips, pickles, cakes, and pies. The delicious smell of food cooking combined with the sweet scent of suntan lotion and would soon include the acrid bite of gun powder from the fireworks.
Back to those fireworks. There are quite a few things that capture the attention and imagination of a young boy, but I would have to put anything that flashes and goes bang at the top of my list. My parents were conservative in what they allowed us kids to get involved with. Although my mom was always home, she couldn’t keep her eyes on my every move. She tried, but I sought neighborhood friends whose parents were less stringent in their parenting. This gave me access to the fabulous and fascinating world of fireworks. It is cool to take a plastic model of a boat, tape a couple of small firecrackers to the deck with a long fuse, light the fuse and shove the boat out onto the pond or lake. The resulting explosion, flinging parts of the boat into the air, and a cloud of smoke and water mist is very satisfying to a kid. Not safe, but fun. We considered it a rite of passage to advance from ladyfingers, black snakes, and sparklers to bigger and louder incendiaries. A boy achieved maturity and stature when he mastered roman candles, cherry bombs, and the ultimate - the M-80.
