Fireworks!

It hasn’t been a particularly quiet week in town.  The tourist traffic has been picking up as people from near and far scurry to head up Highway 212 to Yellowstone National Park over the Beartooth Pass.  Charles Kuralt said that the Beartooth Pass was “the most beautiful drive in America”.  I would not argue with Charles.  It is beautiful.  In my estimation it would be more beautiful without all the tourists.  I do not get a say in the matter and besides it is the economic lifeline for some of the communities along the way.  People need to make a living even if it is an inconvenience to others.  Despite the increased noise from all the motorcycles and recreational vehicles burning up the pavement through town . . . it has been a fairly quiet week in town despite the Fourth of July observance lurking down the road. 

Life has been good.  The weather has been cooperative and mild, allowing folks to get out in their yards.  Grass is greening up.  Flowers have been rallying and blooming to create a feast of color.  The birds are singing up a storm.  People are walking their dogs allowing them the opportunity to check out the daily “pee mail” and send return messages.  Vacation Bible School is happening at one of the local churches—a respite for harried parents tired of hearing the chorus, “I’m bored!” from their children.  Life is ambling along in town as summer kicks off and establishes itself for the next couple of months.  The pace is slow and easy.  Life is good.

 

Or at least it was.

 

Small towns thrive on “word of mouth”.  Whether true or not, community members get their information through the grapevine—casual conversations at the post office or bank, while pumping fuel at the gas station, sharing a meal at the senior center, coming out of the grocery store, or talking around coffee during fellowship following church—wherever people gather.  Rarely is it through “official” channels.  Often it is “I heard . . .”  Some might call it “gossip” but around here and other small towns it is the “line of communication”

 

Even though town council meetings are regularly scheduled happenings announced to the community—date, time, location, and agenda—they always seem to come as a surprise to the locals.  That’s what happened this week interrupting the tranquility and quietness with great grumbling and lament—near biblical proportions, I might add.  At its monthly meeting the council met, discussed, and decided that there would be no fireworks within the town limits this Fourth of July.  Zero fireworks.  They made their decision based on an increased fire hazard in the area . . . after all we have entered the “fire season” in Montana.  The resolution was on the public agenda made available and posted in public places two weeks prior to the meeting.  It was there for all to see.  Beyond those obligated to be there—council members and town employees—no one else attended.  The decision was made.  On Wednesday morning it was announced: NO FIREWORKS. 

 

That set the fireworks off—symbolically speaking.

 

Since the news went public the moaning, groaning, and whining have escalated.  The keyboard warriors have been burning up the town’s Facebook page.  Cries of government oppression!  Freedom denied!  Civil rights trampled upon!   Conspiracy abounds!  Those damn liberal Democrats! Which is a weird one when I am fairly certain that the whole town council is Republican.  Forced Communism and Socialism!  Social media has exploded and gone wild with the loudest complaints, not being townspeople or even from the state of Montana.  Accusations of secretly railroading the resolution through were made even though—like clockwork—the council put the agenda out two weeks prior to the meeting.  Apparently, no one reads it.  It hadn’t hit the gossip mill.  The people felt blindsided.

 

Truth be told, I believe that those who lament the loudest are in the minority.  It was a long time coming.  The complaints had been piling up for years.  In town there are several veterans with PTSD who leave the week of Fourth of July to avoid reoccurring trauma.  The noise and constant booming of the fireworks trigger flashbacks to their war experience.  Pet owners complained.  Pets run off and get lost . . . they hide under beds and other furniture . . . their anxiety shoots through the roof.  Owners book their pets into out-of-town kennels, purchase drugs to calm their nerves, or pack them up and head out of town for a few days.  Fireworks are hell on pets.  Parents of small children, especially infants—have spoken up . . . they cannot get their little ones to sleep.  The elderly have joined the chorus.  For years there have been more complaints than support.  The handful of pyromaniacs are outnumbered . . .

 

. . . but they whine the loudest.

 

One of the accusations against those who favor the riddance of fireworks is that they are “unpatriotic”.  I never understood that—unpatriotic?  How is blowing up the neighborhood and town “patriotic”?  Flying the American flag is “patriotic”.  Taking part in a parade celebrating the Fourth of July is “patriotic”.  Singing the National Anthem is “patriotic”.  Saying the Pledge of Allegiance is “patriotic”.  Supporting veterans . . . voting in elections . . . attending town council meeting . . . all “patriotic”.  Blowing up the neighborhood or town is not “patriotic” in my book.  Patriotism has nothing to do with fireworks.

 

But it’s the semiquincentennial of our nation!  Our nation’s 250^th birthday.  Most people cannot even pronounce the work much less spell it.  Big deal!  We are another year older.  It doesn’t mean we need to blow something up.  My high school class is celebrating its 50^th reunion this fall.  We are the Class of 1976.  We are not gathering and blowing up something.  We are too old for that.  Instead, we will gather at some venue, eat dinner, drink and listen to our generation’s music, dance a little, while sitting around reminiscing about the “good old days”.  We won’t be comparing explosives and blowing things up.  When I hit my semicentennial birthday, I did not blow up the house or anything else.  I was just happy that I made it to my 50^th birthday.

 

The semiquincentennial is just a marker along the journey.  A point of reference and remembrance.  As a nation we are still working our way down the road—in the big picture of the world, 250 years is not that remarkable.  The United States of America is a mere infant when it comes to longevity and age.  Iran, Egypt, Vietnam, Armenia, North Korea, China, India, Afghanistan, Israel, Greece, Japan, Ethiopia, France Croatia, Norway, and Bulgaria have thousands of years on us—THOUSANDS!  Even the “teens” of civilization—Denmark, Austria, Hungry, Portugal, Switzerland, Spain, the United Kingdom all have a few hundred years on us.  They are amused at our celebration because we are basically the “new kids on the block” at 250 years old.  They don’t understand this fascination of going around blowing things up to celebrate a birthday.

 

There is a crack in the town’s placidness entering the week of the Fourth of July.  There will be no fireworks this year.  For some it will be a black mark on the town’s history.  For the rest it will be the day the noise died.  I count myself among those who will relish the proposed peaceful quietness of a firework-less holiday.  So do my dogs . . . my neighbors with babies . . . the veterans with PTSD . . . and those attempting to go to bed at a decent time.

 

I am thankful to the representatives on the town council who represent our community for revoking fireworks this year.  Thankful that the human quality of taking the easy way out led to no one reading the announcement of the council’s agenda prior to the meeting.  Surprisingly the majority have spoken and announced that there is no need to blow something up to celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday or whatever it is called. Thankful that I can fly my flag, stand for the national anthem, say the pledge, wear red-white-blue to my heart’s content, watch baseball, eat hot dogs, and ride in my Chevrolet, and still be considered a patriot even without fireworks.  As a nation we have come this far so far, but we still have a long way to go.  I am thankful and I didn’t even have to blow anything up.  Yeah, it’s been a semi-quiet week in town and in a couple of weeks we will be back to normal . . . at least until next year’s celebration.

 

Burning Down the House

"Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better."

(Albert Camus)

Today we Americans celebrate our nation’s birthday—236^th to be exact.  It has held up well for its age.  There will be community parades, family gatherings, fireworks—the whole nine yards.  And, it is good that we take the time to celebrate as it should cause us a moment to pause and remember exactly what it is that we are celebrating—freedom.

I think that I am as patriotic as the next person, but I have never really enjoyed celebrating Independence Day.  It is too noisy of a holiday for me.  Ever since I was a little kid I have had this sort of “love/hate” relationship with July 4^th.  Primarily because of fireworks.  My mother used to tell me that when watching fireworks on the Fourth of July I would have a finger in my ear and one eye closed—apparently I did not like the loud noise and bright flashes.  I have out grown that habit—1998 was the last year that I did that.  Seems it was embarrassing the family when we were at firework shows.  Besides, at age of 40 it was time to start acting like an adult—I got ear plugs and wore dark sunglasses.

 

I have never understood fireworks.  As a kid they scared me as I witnessed their power to destroy things . . . I was always the kid who took to heart those stories of kids blowing up their hands and losing fingers.  I didn’t want to lose my hand or any of my fingers and be called “Stubby” for the rest of my life.  I just have never understood the fascination in wanting to blow things up.  Nor, did I understand people wanting to spend hard earned money on purchasing fireworks—hundreds of dollars-worth of fireworks.  To me it was just like taking a match to a hundred dollar bill, lighting it, and watching it burn.  I have never received any joy or satisfaction from burning money.  

 

Another story I fully bought into was the one about burning down the neighborhood.  I can remember my mother telling me that I could not shoot off fireworks because I might burn down the neighborhood.  After listening to some of my parents’ conversations about our neighbors . . . well, I thought burning down the neighborhood might not be too bad of a thing to do.  Again, I took this warning to heart.  Even to this day, I take that warning to heart.  Throughout the years that the kids were growing up and had their opportunities to shoot off fireworks on July 4^th, we always kept a bucket of water nearby and the hose turned on.  I did not want to be known as the guy who burnt down the neighborhood no matter how much the neighbors might have deserved it.  It has always been one of my fears with fireworks . . . catching something on fire . . . burning down the house.

Especially this year.  In Montana—and the rest of the western parts of the United States—we are in the worse fire season that anyone can remember.  There have been hundreds of thousands of acres of land charred—hundreds of homes and structures burned to the ground—critters dying.  The fire index is off the charts.  This happens when there has been no moisture, the temperatures go up, humidity drops, and the wind blows—perfect kindling for a fire.  Of all the fires that have taken place this year, over 80 percent of them have been caused by humans who were careless –intentionally or unintentionally.  Many, but not all, of the counties in Montana have in-acted a fire ban in which open fires and the lighting of fireworks are banned until the fire index drops to a safe level.  It is just too easy to start a fire and burn down a couple hundred acres.  Despite this ban it hasn’t slowed down a lot of people—the fireworks are still fairly abundant.  The argument?  What is the Fourth of July without fireworks?

My reply: check out the twenty some fires that have destroyed the land and lives of many Montanans in the past two weeks.  It is sad.

But, they are right.  It is Independence Day and it should be celebrated.  After all, what our nation is celebrating is freedom . . . independence . . . liberty . . . and self-determination.  Who cares about anyone else?  Go ahead, light that firecracker.  It just is not right.  It is not right when our celebration does not take into consideration our neighbors and others.  It becomes selfish and self-indulgent to put everyone at risk just because “we” can do it.  I really don’t think that is making things better for everyone . . . except a few.  That has nothing to do with what is behind our celebration of Independence Day.  In fact, I think it ignores everything that we are celebrating—especially the idea that we are all for one, one for all.  We think about the good for all.  Who cares if have the country burns down . . . we are celebrating Independence Day.

I guess if that make me unpatriotic, then so be it.  Go ahead and light the fireworks—especially in our neck of Montana where we could easily go up with one little spark—and enjoy the celebration.  Nothing might happen, but then again, everything could happen.  I will walk down to the town’s parade, stroll around the park, eat a hot dog or two, talk to people, listen to a little music, and bask in the joy of the day with others who celebrate their freedom.  It won’t be as loud or flashy as shooting off the fireworks, but I know that tomorrow everything will still be standing.  I’ll leave the ear plugs at home, the sunglasses won’t be necessary, and my nerves will be a little less frayed.  I think that, too, is patriotic.