Having A Bang On The Fourth

(This piece of fluff from July 2002 is my lone contribution to Renaissance Magazine. After you read it, you'll see why.)


Regardless of what the calendar or the solstices dictate, I believe the summer is defined by a pair of holidays. I consider Memorial Day to be the true beginning of summer, and Labor Day the end.
And of course, Independence Day, the Fourth of July, qualifies as our mid-summer night’s dream.
The Fourth is a fun holiday with a serious purpose behind it. It bears a lot of similarities to Memorial Day and Veterans Day, but while those holidays can be somber in its remembrance of those who fought for our freedom, the Fourth is a good ol’ celebration with softball tournaments, parades, cookouts, beer gardens, and of course…fireworks.
Living in Milton, we have the luxury of having a parade, the only one in the area. Of course, attendance for this event is huge, so you have to go claim your seat early in the morning by placing blankets at your designated location. By 9 a.m., Madison Avenue looks like the aftermath of a slumber party. After all, you have to have a good curbside seat so your children can dart into the street, dodging Shriner cars and horse manure, to snap up every last Tootsie Roll that was thrown from a float.
Because of its status as the only area parade, every politician for miles around is present. They’re all there: federal, state, local, incumbents, challengers…everyone from senators to coroners. Sometimes it feels like you’re watching television and the only channels you can receive are C-SPAN, PBS and JATV-12.
Independence Day is one of the last holdout holidays to remain on its appointed calendar day rather than being moved to Monday. Which is as it should be…I mean how could the “Fourth of July” be celebrated on any other day? (Side note: do you remember in the 1970’s when Veterans Day was briefly moved from November 11 to the last Monday in October? Watergate aside, Nixon should have been impeached just for that.) Having the holiday mid-week seems to throw people off because it breaks the work week into small pieces. Because the Fourth falls on a Thursday this year, we get to experience the phenomenon known as the Orphaned Work Day.
For office workers, the Orphaned Work Day (an annual occurrence on the day after Thanksgiving) can be a good day to do paperwork. That is, crumpling up paper and shooting baskets into the trashcan. Larry Bird, a 25-footer at the buzzer…GOOD! July 5, 2002 has the potential to be that kind of day. It may win the “Least Productive Day of the Year” award with its high number of employees on vacation, taking a sick day, or just wasting time in the office.
When the Fourth falls within the week, it can change your way of celebrating the holiday. If your way includes sitting in the beer garden before, during and after the fireworks, it doesn’t exactly lead to a productive work day. After all, he who goes forth with a fifth on the Fourth shall not go forth on the fifth.
Men and women enjoy the fireworks in different ways. Women like to watch them from at least 100 feet away. Men like to light them and run. Sure, watching the big display at the local park is fun, but that’s nothing compared to orchestrating your own backyard extravaganza.
Now before I go on, let me state that I do not in any way advocate the purchase, possession, or detonation of illegal fireworks. I wouldn’t dream of entering a convenience store in South Dakota and walking out with enough Black Cat firecrackers to knock out the foundation of my house. I mean, that would be wrong.
But let’s face it, there’s something in the male DNA makeup that instinctually drives us to light a fuse and watch something go ‘BOOM.’ When mailboxes started blowing up in the Midwest in May, did anyone doubt that the perpetrator was a guy? Thankfully, most of us keep our explosive tendencies in check -- within reason. As a guy, I have to admit that there’s a certain allure to the fact that firecrackers, skyrockets and the other really cool fireworks are illegal. What kind of challenge is better than this? We have the potential for hurting ourselves, burning down the neighborhood, and/or getting caught by the cops--a perfect trifecta of danger!
I haven’t looked this up, but I would guess that 99.5% of the people who hurt themselves playing with fireworks are male gender-oriented. I base this guess on the fact that almost everyone who wins a Darwin Award (for killing or injuring himself in an incredibly stupid way) is a guy.
The big debate is whether this means women are smart, or just have no taste for adventure. I submit as evidence the fact that women still outlive men in this country by about seven years. And I also submit evidence from the leading authority on goofball men, my wife Linda, who claims that just watching us act foolish is amusement enough for most women. Verdict: smart.
So this Fourth, as you enjoy the fireworks displays that get bigger and brighter every year, look around at all the men in the crowd and imagine what we’re all thinking.
Boy, I wish I was lighting those off.