I'm an old man

I love fireworks. I love the BOOMS, the crackles, the sparkles and the faint smoke trails. I love the concussion of the shells being fired and the split second delay it takes the sound to reach my ears after my eyes have already seen the explosion of light. I love the oohs and ahhs. Set it all to a John Phillip Sousa march and I'm in Heaven.

That said, I'm just about fed up with the idiots in my neighborhood (I live just outside city limits) who think July 4 begins at 6 p.m. June 20 and doesn't stop until who knows when (God willing, July 4 at midnight). Judging by the constant bangs and stacatto pops, Either my neighbors are all pyromaniacs with too much money or there have been a lot of drive bys recently. "You young whipper-snappers are gonna set my house on fire!"

I remember loving shooting off Roman Candles and popping firecrackers as a kid, but looking back it seems so stupid. How did I not kill myself or maim my friends/family? And the cost! Good grief! It's kind of like my argument against cigarettes: how can you afford such a habit? My neighbors have probably each dropped $100, and that was before it was even July! I feel like shaking my fist from my front porch: "Get a savings account!"

Like I said, I LOVE fireworks and I LOVE celebratin our independence, it's just that in my old age I perfer to love it done by professionals and on the fourth day of the seventh month. I am old man. Sigh.

Then again, I've been an old man for a while now. I realized that the day I was at Falls Creek and thought the skirts were too short and the music too loud.