I really can’t recall how we’ve spent each Independence Day since our first Fourth of July in the greater Quilcene area, 1979; but a short list includes picnics, fireworks displays, blowing up action figures, more fireworks, watching fireworks on TV (thanks, Ivar); all experienced in various weather situations, from rain to heat to those low-hanging clouds that really make the colorful and overlapping bursts so awesome.

“Oooh, owwww, whoaaaa, Pretttttty!”

It was kind of a tradition (might still be) to go down to the head of Quilcene Bay to watch fireworks. Or down to Linger Longer.  Explosions and bright colors, when reflected in the water; even awesomer.

The first couple of years Trish and I and our son, James, (J.J. at the time) would go up to Port Townsend (Trisha’s parents were up here for much of each summer), get close to the water by what is now the ferry dock, watch kids and grownups blowing off firecrackers, all in a thick, sulfur fog; then watch the fire department rushing around to put out fires on the bluff and/or the logs on the beach, then watch some fireworks down toward the mill. Great fun.

Pyrotechnical displays just aren’t the same without vocalizing. And I do. And it’s contagious. One year, we’re all participating and watching and reacting at Quil Bay (now up to three children), and, nearby, there was a family that had just immigrated from (I don’t want to guess and be wrong) somewhere in Eastern Europe.  

They seemed, at first, reserved, even skeptical. I remember the Dad checking out my (over) reactions to each new burst. Confused, mildly amused, his wife and children looking to him to see how they should respond; then, sometime before the grand finale, we were all over-reacting.

Or were we?

Oh, yeah; and then, at least once, Trish and I, both volunteers (in the past) with the local fire department, got to go down the firehall, suit up, go try to put out a fire in the bramble of driftwood.  

PICNICS- The picnickers vary; they might be people who work together, members of a church (or non-church) group, a gathering of friends united by… by whatever shared interest unites people, or several families potlucking; it doesn’t matter; at some point, somewhere between the second hamburger and the fourth helping of homemade potato salad, somewhere on the day that celebrates how people from all over the world are united in…

Wait, before I get all patriotic, let me go back, briefly, to…

BLOWING UP ACTION FIGURES- Now, we never really invested serious money in fireworks, but we’d always have a couple of firecrackers left over. And, my sons had some action figures they would rather see blow up than save (“What, they’d be worth how much?”) Yes, I supervised, and, yes, I enjoyed seeing Darth Vader melting in the driveway.

DOGS AND ‘SPLOSIONS- No, dogs aren’t fans. One of our dogs, Bobo, I think, long after the time decent folks should stop blowing up M-80s and the like (July 5^th is a work day, and July 4^th was, doubtless, over), was, with each blast, trying to squeeze himself father between our bed and the wall. He could only perform this feat by sort of standing up. It was hilarious (for about a minute).  Not a fan of dogs on beds, I think I had to hang with Bobo a while. Like, on the floor.

…and now, Back to PATRIOTIC-NESS- We all, I firmly believe, love our country. We celebrate our country’s independence, appreciating where we are, acknowledging where we came from, how we got here, who sacrificed to build and unite America.  If we think of America, on Independence Day, as a big picnic, a potluck (and now I am… thinking)

HEY, who brought the deviled eggs? I love deviled eggs! They don’t always love me, but… HAPPY FOURTH (and the rest) of JULY!