Okay, technically it’s the 3rd of July and Independence Day is tomorrow. But, I guess tonight celebrated the drunken throw down our founding fathers had the night before signing the Declaration of Independence (which could account for the illegible scribblings of most of the signatories of that document — John Hancock being the exception, but a known megalomaniac overachiever, despised by the rest of the Continental Congress*).
Anyway, back to it… Dear Friend and I wandered downtown for a festival where they shut down a few streets of the city and set up stages for music, plus allow the local fried, greasy, quasi- food vendors to kick up prices and ladle out cholesterol-laden delights.
Oh, and there was beer. Lots and lots of beer.
We didn’t so much enjoy the crowds, but did wander from one beer stand to the next, stopping occasionally in between to eat something (for strength…to get us to that next beer, of course), to watch some talented young kids from our neck of the woods doing a clever juggling routine, and, of course, to loose with our dance to the music of some pretty damn good bands. Salsa and free style being the dances of choice (mandated by the music, of course), we kicked it for upwards of an hour and a half of sheer fun.
The evening was to cap off with a fireworks display. The majority of the crowd meandered out of the music tents towards the river, where the show would be. Both Dear Friend and I, our legs weary and the car a long way off, decided to wander in that direction, all the while keeping an eye for the start of the show and hoping we could find some semblance of a good place to watch.
That’s when Kismet hit.
Away from the majority of the crowd and a third of the way back to the car, the fireworks show started – – – a few hundred yards away from us across an empty parking lot with the clearest of clear views. Not the best show I’ve seen, but being so close and having such an unobstructed view made it all that much better.
The raucous cacophony of the bursts, so close to us, reverberated through our bodies. Crackles, bangs, and deep, throaty booms of the big explosions. We were close enough that we could smell the remnants of the gunpowder from those fireworks. And the colors? Beautiful. A riot of reds, blues, greens, purples, and whites careened through the sky in waterfall patterns and explosions and even a series of a dozen smiley faces.
Picture found here
I glanced over at Dear Friend during the finale, which was amazingly loud, bright, and thrilling, to see her staring skyward like a little kid seeing her first show, her lips forming a silent “Wow!”.
Beer, Dance, Fireworks, Dear Friend…
Yeah…
Happy 4th!
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*yes, i made that up. but so what? it’s more fun this way.
Tags: Childlike exuberance, Dear Friend, Getting Our Dance Groove Going, In the Right Place At The Right Time, Lucky Dogs, Post #250
The Wilds of Ohio 
July 4, 2010 at 00:48 |
I’ve seen that “Wow” look on Dear Friend’s face 😉
July 4, 2010 at 02:24 |
“The raucous cacophony of the bursts, so close to us, reverberated through our bodies. Crackles, bangs, and deep, throaty booms…”
Sounds like my ex-wife in the kitchen.
July 4, 2010 at 04:13 |
Those moments when you find that inner kid (and it’s not in full wail, but rather deep joy)….those are the best.
July 4, 2010 at 07:24 |
A perfect night ended with pyrotechnical prowess, lovely!
July 4, 2010 at 10:06 |
nursemyra – magical, isn’t it?
kyknoord – was that also accompanied by the smell of gunpowder?
dolce – happily surprised when i feel them welling up unbidden.
mitzi – well, no, not this time…it was just the fireworks show [chuckle]
July 4, 2010 at 10:11 |
in my world, it’s not the 4th of July until someone drops an explosive in Aunt Buckie’s ‘tater salad!
July 5, 2010 at 08:43 |
Those are pretty cool fireworks. Glad you had a great day.
July 5, 2010 at 16:42 |
daisyfae – is that a survival tactic by the clan? if it’s exploded, you don’t have to eat it?
hisqueen – stole the photo, but did see about a dozen of those smiley faces. and the rest were great as well.