This year, rain kept everything subdued. And again, our nation's vibrant recovery seems to have caused folks to rethink priorities when it comes to spending loot on things that eventually explode away. Plus, people move. Neighbors come and go. Time passes. Since it was raining, it was too wet to do much. The rain stopped in time for our town's display, but we've only gone there once, me not being a fan of large crowds and it being located in a pretty jam-packed location. Not to mention we couldn't even cook out, an annual event much anticipated.
We still bought the smokers, but in keeping with the trend of the modern free market, there were fewer to a pack that cost more. So we had less to work with. Still, we did do our nightly run around the house at night, chasing each other with sparklers amid the backyard trees and betwixt them and the garden cornstalks.
The national fireworks were a bit of a drag, and except for a rousing Neil Diamond at the Washington performance, and some heartfelt tributes to our forgotten veterans of our forgotten wars, they were less than stellar. Some, like New York, set to hip-hop and modern sex and narcissism music, made me realize how far away our country is from the greatness this day is to celebrate. So a day of mixed experiences. But as always, the boys manage to bring about some good feelings and a bit o'fun.
|He gets into the act, lighting legal fireworks, otherwise known as smokers
|Somehow he has a knack for making everything look exciting and adventerous
|Our oldest, on the other hand, has a typically subdued approach
|The smoke lit, the boys kick into action
|And then marvel at the expected choking fit that comes from running about in a smoke cloud