My favorite Independence Day memories happened up in Bellevue, Nebraska. My dad and I would go to professional shows, sure, but several years we’d also go walking around the neighborhoods as hundreds of households launched their own pyrotechnics. I remember walking along a street on a hill and seeing the rest of a subdivision laid out below on one side, bursts of sparks continually popping up here and there like whack-a-moles. (A TV station yesterday caught an spectacular version of this in Los Angeles).
Fireworks have plenty of drawbacks, with all of the pollution and anxiety and injuries they can cause for people and other creatures. I still find a lot to love in the pops sounding in every direction as crickets and cicadas buzz and lightning bugs flicker, the haze in the streetlights below the stars, the simple fact that all sorts of people are making their own little contributions to the night’s biggest show. You could hardly ask for more summer than that.
My Fourth of July this year was filled with this sort of amateur celebration, which often makes up for lack of scale with charm and camaraderie. Earlier in the day, I followed a neighborhood parade just a few blocks away from home near downtown Rogers. It’d been a few years since I’d caught one for the holiday.
Thanks for looking, and I hope your holiday was safe and happy.