The Sounds of Silence . . .

We woke up this morning . . . to the sounds of silence. The Fourth of July is over and all is left is the scent of smoke, charred matches, burnt pieces of paper and dust which I hope blow away soon. For the last two weeks, we have been treated to preliminary testing of fire works every night and kept hoping these overzealous yet inconsiderate people would eventually lose interest or spend their last penny and sulk in the dark come the actual day of the Fourth. Unfortunately, no such luck.

Around six in the morning on July Fourth, the first round of ‘official’ fireworks made themselves known and continued sporadically throughout the day, just enough to keep every dog in the neighborhood aware and yowling.

Around seven, the real show began and given the carnival-like display of colorful explosions overhead, I think we were safe in assuming a lot of illegal fireworks were at hand. A look around the neighborhood showed a lot of children being kept far back from the curb while grown men got to light the fireworks . . . which is a good thing but after about 30 minutes of constant boom, boom, boom, I noticed children wandering off to play yet the dads and grandfathers just kept at it. A can of beer and hours of making things explode? A nearly idyllic evening. Someone did post on the internet something that probably described this aspect of the Fourth perfectly:

Children! Be careful around fireworks. Let the grownups in your life who have been drinking all afternoon set them off for you.

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