Thursday, July 07, 2005
Best Fourth Ever
Lileks moaned a day or two ago about how lame it would be to post a recitation of his Fourth of July two days late. I write much more slowly, so I successfully trump his lameness in both timing and post quality:
This was the best Fourth of July that I can remember. I suggested to my family the day before that we go fishing and hiking the the hills nearby for the holiday. Only Number One Daughter was opposed to the idea; everyone else thought that it sounded fun. My wife and son already had a cooler of food packed by the time I was ready for breakfast on the Fourth. I put the flag out front where the gentle breeze caressed it in the unwavering sunlight. As we drove to the hills, I could not help but contemplate that on this day of all days, I was an American and mighty pleased to be one. God has shed his grace on this nation, this Tree of Liberty nourished with the blood of patriots, this Edifice of Freedom founded by those who gave blood, treasure and their sacred honor in its construction.
My family and I found a spot in the hills where we had camped before. The water was too low in the stream for fishing. We drove down to the big rock where the fish congregate and where they bite when they will bite no where else. I went first and then the kids took turns with the pole. Only one small fish, just a few microns larger than a minnow chased the worm whose fate was no longer at issue. We got some pictures in the familiar places; this was our youngest's first time here, or on any other fishing trip. No one mentioned her apparent jinx effect; no sense in telling her as she is too young to feel upset by it.
With the utter failure on the part of the fish to participate in that activity to which they are so essential, we elected to discontinue that pasttime in favor of a hike. We had only been walking a few minutes when I realized that the abandoned mine that we had intended to walk to was actually miles away. So we decided to go to no place in particular and we proved entirely successful in reaching that destination. On the way we found currant bushes with low voltage but lots of berries; another first for the youngest and a treat for all of us. Our journey took us up a rough and steep trail. One might say that we carried on like troopers; if troopers are prone to constant whining about going back, being too hot, and stopping for water at least twice in any forty foot stretch of trail.
When the moaning ended we were back at the van where we made a valiant attempt at eating the supplies that wife and son had packed. We did eat all of the sandwiches and cherries and we did drink all of the water; I just don't understand why we needed seventeen boxes of crackers, nine bags of chips and one bag of small frozen bagels that were only slightly drier than, and at least as hard as, the trail we had just hiked.
Back in the van and headed for home, son requested music so I commanded the playing of Johnny Horton. Unfortunately, after just two songs the tape developed a squeal that struck the ears like a salted ice-pick. We were forced to listen to a popular country music station and it was entirely appropriate for this day of patriotism, celebration, and gratitude.
With the kids debarked from the family ark and the multitude of dry crunchables restored to the pantry shelves, we began the discussion of fireworks. Usually on the Fourth, we go to my parents and do fireworks with the extended family. Brother-in-law usually buys way too many so we don't bother to get any. The word this year was that there would be cake and ice cream for a nephew's birthday at my sister's house, but no fireworks. I reasoned that nephew would have a fine birthday without us. We were having such a great day keeping our own company that I made a command decision to continue the day in that state of isolationism. We all broke into our caches of change--and I mean the round shiny stuff. I came up with $30 in quarters, son had $8.35 in assorted nickels and dimes, and the girls came up with a couple bucks. We traveled to two fireworks stands to exchange our hard currency for fused packets of patriotic zeal. Our combustible celebratories included something called an Express Pack of assorted fountains and screechers, several boxes of white tadpoles which emitted the audio selections from loud breakfast cereals when compressed, spherical grenades of colored smoke and sticks for putting flaming stars at arms length.
The waning afternoon found the girls tossing poppits and then we lit the smoke bombs. I kept expecting a girl in a diaphanous pink outfit to appear and request master's wish. My daughters just wanted to walk through the billowing clouds of colored smoke. The youngest screamed with delight for another as each smoky apparition dispersed. Poppits and smoke bombs exhausted, we relaxed in the air conditioning. We indulged in a viewing of Return of The Jedi because nothing says "Freedom" like a young Carrie Fisher in a slave girl costume or Mark Hamil writhing in simulated pain from special effects lightning. Dinner featured corn on the cob, watermelon, and animal flesh that I charred on the grill. I had persuaded my son to play a game with me, a simulation of the Napoleonic battle of Montebello, and I neglected to turn the burgers when should have. But I did win the game quickly enough that my son did not complain about it. I have left the figures out with the hope of coercing him into another game soon.
At last Daylight took a header off the horizon and Darkness cast its Vaderesque cape across the sky. We gathered the fireworks and moved to the front steps, just below where the porch light illuminated Old Glory; our display of patriotic zeal unfolded before that hallowed Symbol of Liberty. Let me say that I was entirely satisfied with the Express Pack. We had gone in quest of the half price Family Pack but it was sold out. I have never been more happy with a bait and switch. All of the items performed well. The Bamboo Garden, Screeching Dragon ( or some kind of dragon), the Desert at Night, and a couple of others were really great, beyond my expectations for non-illicit firewords. The neighbors came over to express their wishes for a happy Fourth of July and complemented us on the fireworks. We wished them the same. Truly, it was the best Fourth of July ever--in the last five years, anyway.
This was the best Fourth of July that I can remember. I suggested to my family the day before that we go fishing and hiking the the hills nearby for the holiday. Only Number One Daughter was opposed to the idea; everyone else thought that it sounded fun. My wife and son already had a cooler of food packed by the time I was ready for breakfast on the Fourth. I put the flag out front where the gentle breeze caressed it in the unwavering sunlight. As we drove to the hills, I could not help but contemplate that on this day of all days, I was an American and mighty pleased to be one. God has shed his grace on this nation, this Tree of Liberty nourished with the blood of patriots, this Edifice of Freedom founded by those who gave blood, treasure and their sacred honor in its construction.
My family and I found a spot in the hills where we had camped before. The water was too low in the stream for fishing. We drove down to the big rock where the fish congregate and where they bite when they will bite no where else. I went first and then the kids took turns with the pole. Only one small fish, just a few microns larger than a minnow chased the worm whose fate was no longer at issue. We got some pictures in the familiar places; this was our youngest's first time here, or on any other fishing trip. No one mentioned her apparent jinx effect; no sense in telling her as she is too young to feel upset by it.
With the utter failure on the part of the fish to participate in that activity to which they are so essential, we elected to discontinue that pasttime in favor of a hike. We had only been walking a few minutes when I realized that the abandoned mine that we had intended to walk to was actually miles away. So we decided to go to no place in particular and we proved entirely successful in reaching that destination. On the way we found currant bushes with low voltage but lots of berries; another first for the youngest and a treat for all of us. Our journey took us up a rough and steep trail. One might say that we carried on like troopers; if troopers are prone to constant whining about going back, being too hot, and stopping for water at least twice in any forty foot stretch of trail.
When the moaning ended we were back at the van where we made a valiant attempt at eating the supplies that wife and son had packed. We did eat all of the sandwiches and cherries and we did drink all of the water; I just don't understand why we needed seventeen boxes of crackers, nine bags of chips and one bag of small frozen bagels that were only slightly drier than, and at least as hard as, the trail we had just hiked.
Back in the van and headed for home, son requested music so I commanded the playing of Johnny Horton. Unfortunately, after just two songs the tape developed a squeal that struck the ears like a salted ice-pick. We were forced to listen to a popular country music station and it was entirely appropriate for this day of patriotism, celebration, and gratitude.
With the kids debarked from the family ark and the multitude of dry crunchables restored to the pantry shelves, we began the discussion of fireworks. Usually on the Fourth, we go to my parents and do fireworks with the extended family. Brother-in-law usually buys way too many so we don't bother to get any. The word this year was that there would be cake and ice cream for a nephew's birthday at my sister's house, but no fireworks. I reasoned that nephew would have a fine birthday without us. We were having such a great day keeping our own company that I made a command decision to continue the day in that state of isolationism. We all broke into our caches of change--and I mean the round shiny stuff. I came up with $30 in quarters, son had $8.35 in assorted nickels and dimes, and the girls came up with a couple bucks. We traveled to two fireworks stands to exchange our hard currency for fused packets of patriotic zeal. Our combustible celebratories included something called an Express Pack of assorted fountains and screechers, several boxes of white tadpoles which emitted the audio selections from loud breakfast cereals when compressed, spherical grenades of colored smoke and sticks for putting flaming stars at arms length.
The waning afternoon found the girls tossing poppits and then we lit the smoke bombs. I kept expecting a girl in a diaphanous pink outfit to appear and request master's wish. My daughters just wanted to walk through the billowing clouds of colored smoke. The youngest screamed with delight for another as each smoky apparition dispersed. Poppits and smoke bombs exhausted, we relaxed in the air conditioning. We indulged in a viewing of Return of The Jedi because nothing says "Freedom" like a young Carrie Fisher in a slave girl costume or Mark Hamil writhing in simulated pain from special effects lightning. Dinner featured corn on the cob, watermelon, and animal flesh that I charred on the grill. I had persuaded my son to play a game with me, a simulation of the Napoleonic battle of Montebello, and I neglected to turn the burgers when should have. But I did win the game quickly enough that my son did not complain about it. I have left the figures out with the hope of coercing him into another game soon.
At last Daylight took a header off the horizon and Darkness cast its Vaderesque cape across the sky. We gathered the fireworks and moved to the front steps, just below where the porch light illuminated Old Glory; our display of patriotic zeal unfolded before that hallowed Symbol of Liberty. Let me say that I was entirely satisfied with the Express Pack. We had gone in quest of the half price Family Pack but it was sold out. I have never been more happy with a bait and switch. All of the items performed well. The Bamboo Garden, Screeching Dragon ( or some kind of dragon), the Desert at Night, and a couple of others were really great, beyond my expectations for non-illicit firewords. The neighbors came over to express their wishes for a happy Fourth of July and complemented us on the fireworks. We wished them the same. Truly, it was the best Fourth of July ever--in the last five years, anyway.
// posted by Zerin Hood @ 3:57 PM 
