Today is July 5, Independence Day. Wrong, you say. It’s the Fourth of July that the United States celebrates its independence from British rule. So it is. Today I’m talking about the independence from the noise and madness of those who celebrate all week by setting off bombs bursting in air.
I live in Vancouver, Washington, where commercial fireworks are legal – this year from noon June 28 to midnight July 4. Legal means different things in different places. In Oregon, for example, fireworks can’t leave the ground. Here, though, they can and do.
This was a mercifully short season compared to last year, which was about a week longer and ending at 11:00 p.m. on the 5th. Next year, the legal season will be shorter, from the 1st through the 4th. I can’t wait.
Still, there will be that period of three or four hours on the night of the 4th when the blasts and flashes throughout the neighborhood are nearly constant. I don’t know what the legal limits are here on the size of the explosives available to the general public. But I can tell you it’s enough to rock the average house. I’ve never been in a war zone, but I imagine it’s something like that – minus the screams and debris flying through the air. And I can only imagine the effect on people who have been in a war zone and who may expect that any minute a chunk of shrapnel will come ripping through the wall.
The frenzy begins around mid June, when the big tents start appearing at the major intersections of my part of town. When opening day arrives, you’ll see hawkers clustered together along the curbs waving massive yellow signs directing drivers this way and that. The competition can be amusing. One sign read: “Straight Ahead for High Prices. Turn Left for Discounts!”
I’ve never been in one of these tents. But I’m told that individuals may spend hundreds of dollars on fireworks. My neighbors must be pretty wealthy to be able to blow their money on explosives.
It’s really hard on our dogs. We have to drug them every evening of the season. They wear themselves out with their anxious pacing and whining and panting. We could call July 4 National Torture Your Pet Day. And of course there are all those animals who aren’t pets. But what do animals matter when they can’t even appreciate what it means to live in this country?
I hope tonight will be quieter. But it won’t be without a blast or two. Not everyone believes in following the rules. After all, isn’t that what independence is all about?
2 Comments
It seems that we have developed many other–and sometimes more dangerous–dependencies since “independence”, Paul. Good things to you!
Peter, maybe we can dedicate a day to Codependence as well. I wonder how we’d celebrate that one.