Fireworks and Freedom

The Fourth of July is this weekend.

When I was a kid, the Fourth was a huge holiday. The day started with a parade. No bands or floats, it was a rag-tag kind of parade that included all the kids and pets in the neighborhood. Dressed in red, white and blue we marched up and down the streets, rode bikes or pushed doll carriages and wagons decorated with crepe paper and streamers.

We felt very patriotic waving small flags. Every house proudly displayed flags and bunting.

Afterwards, at an all-neighborhood picnic with hot dogs, baked beans and corn on the cob, there were games–horseshoes, balloon toss, three-legged relays and sack races with prizes and ribbons awarded. Still later, there was square dancing.

But my favorite part of the holiday happened after dark when everyone walked to the beach to watch the fireworks. The night air echoed with collective “oohs and aahs” as bursts of skyrocketing explosives cascaded overhead like effervescent confetti.

We also had sparklers–those metallic wands that throw off showery sparks of color. My kids loved them too and waved them over their heads pretending they were magic paintbrushes drawing glittering outlines in the dark.

I love everything about fireworks – the noise, the colors and even the smoke. Lying on my back looking up at the sparkle and spectacle of the show captivates me every time I see them. They make me grin and giggle like a kid and, yes, “ooh and aah” along with everyone else.

My favorites are the ones that initially burst like a giant exploding star then continue to detonate like falling dominoes ending with a multi-colored spray and a single loud boom. Just when I think I’ve seen the best, an even better one bursts skyward.

I am never disappointed.

The finale of a fireworks show is exciting and sad at the same time. I feel a rush of excitement as the sky erupts in a barrage of pyrotechnic explosions, awestruck at the ethereal beauty, all the while holding my breath because the fiery salvo spewing above means the show is about to end. I wish it would never stop.

I’ve watched fireworks explode over the Esplanade in Boston while listening to the Boston Pops. In Indiana, I watched from the lawn of a golf course where the fireworks seemed close enough to touch and my wide-eyed daughter screamed with delight. At Disneyland, fireworks ushered Tinker Bell across the sky as my grandchildren gasped in wonder. In Mountain View, there are fireworks and symphonic music at .

However, the holiday isn’t only about fireworks, backyard barbeques and parades or just another day off work; it’s about independence, freedom and liberty.

Independence Day, commonly referred to as the Fourth, is the anniversary of our nation’s independence from the tyranny of the Kingdom of Great Britain. On July 4, 1776, our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence.

I wonder how many of us have read the document. No doubt, we all studied it at some point during our formal school years, but I wonder how many of us have actually read the words. They’re worth rereading.

Independence, closely connected to freedom, is a precious gift. It’s about the right to choose and create alternatives for choice for ourselves. Living in a democracy is something to celebrate and be grateful for every day.

In 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife stating in part that the Declaration of Independence ought to be celebrated with “…illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more.”

So on this 4th of July, as you watch the fireworks display and hear the booms, remember the words of the drafters of that document: that all men are created equal,= and that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Happy Fourth of July!