Fireworks

Three posts in three days? Have I lost my mind??

A while back I mentioned on the other blog that we had a fireworks show in Bakersfield that merited it's own post. This is that post.

So the fourth of July in Bakersfield kinda scared me. We were supposed to meet up with my relatives at my aunt and uncle's house on University Avenue, the main drag, and watch the show on their front lawn. Twilight and the road is packed with people cruising. I felt like I was looking at a recipe for an episode of COPS: Bakersfield. All those cars full of people, all those people full of "beverages", and all that 4th of July enthusiasm manifesting itself in a let's set things on fire attitude. We had a front-row seats.

Things went alright until all of the sudden, Ka BOOM! The first of the fireworks went off and we realized just how close we were to the show. The stadium is directly across the street from my aunt and uncle's house. The fireworks were loud and vibrated in our chests. After that first one, my littles were squished up against me like sardines. It was a spectacular show. No one can say that Bakersfield University doesn't know how to put on an impressive fireworks display. It was just so....disconcerting. (Frank admission by me: I do not actually "get" fireworks. I'm not a huge fan. They just seem so...unnecessary. And kind of a waste. And a huge, dangerous mess, we were to learn.)

So here is the disturbing part (if you are me) and the delightful part (if you are Pie): We were perfectly positioned to catch the falling debris from the fireworks. Have you ever wondered, watching a fireworks show, what happens to everything shot heavenward when it explodes? Maybe you assume that the fireworks casings just incinerate as the thing lights up. Well, let me correct your faulty assumptions. In fact, when fireworks are shot off, there are many, many pieces of what we call "the stuff the fireworks are packed in" that fall back to earth in large chunks. On your face. And blanket and yard. Many of these chunks are still on fire. They land on the top of your car and fall into the large pine trees around you. They land on the roof. You a literally littered with burning bits of paper that smell like gunpowder. Those are the big chunks, and in the smokey darkness you can see them and avoid them somewhat. Then there are the little tiny mouse-droppings-sized bits of carbon that fall down like a gentle rain. A gentle rain that lands in your eyes and causes you to run into the house, blinded. Eventually the children took the blankets they were lying on and pulled them up over their heads. It was the only sensible thing to do. Tommy actually fell asleep like that, a somewhat frightened, sweaty little lump.

It really was an amazing show. Pie loved it. The kids didn't hate it. I found myself angered by all the falling bits of burning junk. I looked around and thought, "Am I the only one here who thinks this is banoodles?" Seriously, couldn't things just catch fire, from you know, other things that are already on fire, landing on things? I'm just saying.

Here are just a few of the wads of things that rained down upon our heads. Jon and Josie collected these from the front yard.