How can any city or town ban fireworks? Unless there is a serious drought and fire threat, banning fireworks is completely un-American. Try not to justify such an unpatriotic act with some big community fireworks extravaganza. A kid is not a kid unless he or she has blown something up to celebrate the wonderful holiday.
The 4th means smoke bombs, firecrackers, cherry bombs and M80s during the day. Light a box or two of worms and launch bottle rockets with every thing you can possibly attach to them. Sit back in the evening, light fountains and roman candles. Run wild with sparklers in hand.
Sure, my mother worried about me blowing off fingers, but a few burns were valuable lessons when it came to handling anything explosive. My friends and I built all sorts of weapons. The best was our bazookas created by stuffing bored-out wood with roman candles. Fireballs would roar from our shoulders with terrifying speed and flame, but, oh, what fun the searing heat provided.
Even in college, a friend and I launched carefully aimed bottle rockets near the customers at a Dairy Queen on 17th street from my friend’s second floor apartment terrace on Medford. Peering over the ledge we roared with delight over every incoming shot that never hurt a soul.
Call me a delinquent even in my adult years. Tonight Laura and I dug through our kitchen cabinet and found our cache of firecrackers, smoke bombs and toy soldiers for a firefight in the alley. This kid has grown up but will never grow old.
Happy 4th of July to you all. Hope you had just as much fun.