It was quiet here on the 4th of July, because King County, where I live, has banned all fireworks. For some reason that worked. I heard nary an explosion all day and all night.
It was bliss.
A friend who lives in a different neighborhood on the island
tells me that the ban had no effect there, and he and his dog were cowering
until three in the morning while the explosions went off around them. I was
sorry to hear that, especially considering how much I enjoyed the quiet here.
Look, I ooh and aah at fireworks, same as anyone, and have
enjoyed many fireworks shows over the years, and enjoyed setting off fireworks
with the boys when they were little. I enjoyed that a little too much.
Rick and the kids really got into their fireworks. One year
when the boys and I were in Sonoma for the 4th of July, watching
their fireworks display over a cow pasture, Rick built a little cardboard house
here with the specific intention of putting action figures in it and blowing it
up. Which he did. And videotaped the destruction to show the kids when we got
home.
After years of enjoying pyrotechnics and my own pyromania, I
don’t know, something changed. I think it was having my dog, Marley. She hated
loud noises. Thunder made her crawl under the bed or go into my closet under
the clothes and try to escape to Narnia. She did not want to be held and
comforted. She wanted to get as far away from the noise as she could.
My husband Rick was not at all attracted to firework shows,
perhaps a legacy of his time at war on a guided missile frigate. I remember the
story of the misguided missile that got loose and went wild, flying between the
masts of the ship. Everyone aboard thought they were goners until it went into
the ocean and destroyed some sea life. If there was any left in the Tonkin
Gulf. Oh, and that never happened, by the way. If you ask the Navy.
Rick stayed home with our previous dogs and then with Marley
on the Fourth of July. He would have stayed home anyway, but his staying home
had the bonus of him being there for the pups. There were a lot of kids setting
off fireworks in the neighborhood in those days. After Rick died, I stayed home
with Marley on the Fourth of July, trying to comfort her as the explosions went
off.
Then, after Marley was gone, I found I’d lost interest in
fireworks displays. I have never been in
a war zone, but I felt like I was in one when the fireworks were exploding and
whistling through the air. It did not feel congenial. So this year, with all
personal fireworks banned in King County, I enjoyed the quiet here.
It was such a tradition to buy fireworks and have a little
show for the kids on the Fourth of July. When I was a child, I always had
sparklers for the occasion. It wasn’t until I had children that I looked at
sparklers and thought, oh my god, those little red hot pieces of wire are
dangerous. Somehow, I never got burned, and I don’t think my boys did, either.
They still have all their fingers.
Every Fourth of July for a few decades I spent the day at Becky and Roy’s house. They had the grill going and there were plenty ofeats, and drinks, and family and friends. There were fireworks there, which the children couldn’t wait to set off. As the kids grew up the gatherings got quieter, but about 9:30 or so we’d all bundle into our cars and head down to Jensen Point to watch the fireworks show.
Sitting down there on the grass we’d watch the blossoming of
extravagant showers of colored fire, all building up to the grand finale, when
the rockets were going off in profusion, a huge bouquet of sparkling colored
lights, a dozen or two all at once. It was quite a show. It was emotional. When
the show was over, you could hear people cheering, and car horns honking, all
around Quartermaster Harbor, in appreciation of the fireworks. It was a grand
community occasion.
Meanwhile … dogs and cats and horses, cows, sheep, goats,
and other livestock, and war veterans and small children, and the people who
loved them, tried to escape the noise.
I can’t imagine how a combat veteran might feel about
fireworks. I have heard that when commanded to attack someone, you are told to,
“light ‘em up!” I think there is some substance to that rumor.
How do you walk away from those experiences? Rick was
certainly scarred by his year aboard ship in Vietnam. He talked about it every
day for years.
Summing up: it was quiet at my house on the Fourth of July.
And I loved it.
Now. If only I could find my car keys.
My sweet pup Marley
