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Growing up the daughter of a nurse made us ineligible for several things like owning an Oscar Mayer Wiener Whistle (if you inhale the plastic buggers into your lungs, they don't show up on xrays) or Super Balls (if they bounce back at hit you in the eye socket they can cause permanent damage), riding in VW Beetles (nothing in the front of the car to stop an oncoming vehicle from crushing your legs in a collision). We couldn't do fun things like wear rubber bands on our wrists (circulation gets cut off), run around barefoot (glass), play with dart guns (again with the eye thing), or Clackers. Actually, in all fairness to my mother, one asshole I went to school with really DID shoot out his eye with a pencil loaded dart gun. Dumb fuck. Ruined it for everyone in town.

Fourth of July has always been different for me than anyone else I know. It's sad, or embarrassing, probably a good combination of both. Our neighbors all seemed to have fireworks that my father swore were illegal to own. Those were on display several nights before the actual 4th itself. My dad would be grousing, peeking out of the curtains, or leering out the curtainless kitchen window (with the lights out lest anyone see him watching). He wouldn't call the police, although his threat to do so was an annual guarantee. They had some serious gunpowder from the sound of things...we didn't get to watch. It was ILLEGAL!

I remember when we finally got our parents to listen to our pleas, our begging them to bring us out of the depths of assholedom. EVERYONE had fireworks, why couldn't we? It probably would have better had our pleas fallen on deaf ears. When they FINALLY relented, they allowed us to have....snakes. Freakin' snakes. Not even the jumbo ones, just the small black disks that spread out when touched with a match. Can you even imagine how insane my world was? People are blowing off fingers in the alley, and we are on the front sidewalk putting match to disk, expected to squeal with delight and fearful anticipation as the ash grew in a "snake-like" fashion. OH MY GOD HOW LONG WILL IT GET?????? Little Bro liked those, however, as he enjoyed anything that involved the lighting of a match. And, the snake had a profuse sulfur scent. Jesus.

I remember a few years later when we took an big step up in the balls department and moved up from the snakes to the Snappers! Kill me. Seriously. These didn't even have any fire involved, although they did have noise. While my brother and sister threw their arms out trying to make these bastard gunpowder puffs fun, I spent a great deal of time trying to fashion a whole box together in the hopes that I could fling that baby right through the concrete sidewalk. yeah, that didn't happen. Even then I farted louder than these turd pillows. I eventually became so bitter about them that I took to hurling them at the neighborhood children, just the little ones who would be afraid, not the older ones who would laugh at me or beat me up.

I am not lying when I say that sparklers did not enter my life until I was married.

The 4th has just gotten more extreme every year. There's no need for us to go out to any of the local town's displays, we need only sit at the end of the driveway (stupid trees) and admire the light show that lights up our little neighborhood. M80's right next door. We just sit there oohing and ahing as windows shatter and an occasional limb flies high into the air. The night wreaks of sulfur and my mind racesback to the good old days of ash.

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