4th of July....Independence Day....always has been a day of import and remembrance in my experience~my early 1960's elementary school experience....lavishly immersed in the era of John Kennedy Camelot enchantment filled my little child's heart with wonder and pride to be an American....and the holiday manifest even better than that in my usually deeply tumultuous and troubled home life~
it was a holiday of import to my family....and the one i loved most~and here is why: there were no expectations of gifts and presentations harbored by my mother within which i could (usually) by her estimation, fail with what she perceived as malice of intention on my part......no religious conflicts between my convicted by God to love God heart and my parent's atheistic proclivities~ the food was traditional and delicious.and i didn't receive any dirty looks about indulging in a second hot dog nor was i told i didn't "need" to eat that cookie or cake......and we had company over...a welcome relief .and not our "normal" family dinner......as i knew i would not be abused verbally...my face would not be slapped for an innocent slip of the tongue...nor would i be sentenced with punitive banishment in front of any gathering extended between we 4..(although i knew to be on very most perfect behavior or there would be hell to pay once the crowd had departed).. and usually decorations were purchased, tables decorated festively..the knowledge that summer was ahead and the pressure of school and homework and feeling like the oddest child in the classroom was blissfully postponed for what seemed as though it was an eon ahead...i was proud of my mother in these moments as she displayed her prowess as a highly accomplished cook and hostess....and there was the best part of all....the home ignited fireworks!
we didn't have big public firework displays in our little san francisco peninsula town....but rather some amazing huge package of personal fiery delights purchased by my father with great pride. it brought tears to my eyes and bittersweet feeling to my heart even as the most tiny girl...because i knew that he grew up so very poor...and i could sense that gave him the most wonderful feeling to be able to provide the biggest and best display for his children~
my brother and i would anxiously wait until the first hint of nightfall.....watching the clock minute by minute and begging my father with our hopeful rationalizations to let us light off just one snake...or smoky joe....a sparkler...something .....we could barely stand the anticipation and then finally it would be "dark enough"...and we would venture out into the street with our treasures....and one by one light, gasp, exclaim with disappointment or delight depending...judging the worthiness of each firework upon the sound and the height of the flames and sparks...we were allowed by him to even strike the matches..and were literally playing with fire..and it was nothing short of exhilarating ~ and all around my awareness floated an unusual feeling of well being and happiness that remains with me to this day as i stand under or a midst any fireworks display ~
and when the night was done...the company vanished...the spell of wonder and the still of my usual anxiety ridden awareness lingered softly...an empty torn, and tattered by fire remnant of one firework or sparkler able to been seen in the streetlight shadow from my desk to my bed.....a relic to remind me through the next 364 days...that a magickal night awaited me in my future....and hope and happiness...was possible ...always~
more to follow~
