Boom

Carrie later told me that Independence Day morning at the Snicketts house ran something like this:

Francis comes pounding up the stairs around six AM with sacks of fireworks, announcing, “IT’S THE FOURTH OF JULY!!!!”

Mom tries, futilely, to stop him, “No, Francis! Francis, no! It’s too early! Too early!”

Too late. Or something like that. Probably not much exaggerated either, given the cartoonish “bombshell” of an old energy drink mix container which he proudly displayed for detonation when we arrived after two o’clock that afternoon.

“Mainly flour and explosives,” we were told.

Anyway, it was a modest crowd. Grandma and the Combs family, minus Linus on another photo assignment at Fair St. Louis for his summer internship. (Many of these assignments lately included trailing Cardinals at the stadium, in the dugout, etc.) A few friends: Chet Danger and his wife, Irish’s volleyball pal, Ricky, and Izzy for a short time.

Some wild games of volleyball, badminton, ladder golf later … grilled brats and dogs, watermelon, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, plates of cookies, etc. – and Grandma climbing the tree house with Puck to practice her yoga – it was time to drive down to Florissant.

After part of the crowd had split for Weldon Spring, Lake St. Louis, or St. Charles. They knew what they were missing. Nothing tops Florissant’s display. So Dad fired up big-guns-Goldilocks for the remains, and followed the Combs down 70.

In the mass of humanity mostly wearing “a variety of Cardinals t-shirts,” it still somehow didn’t feel crowded. Uncle Mo, Aunt Petunia, and Grandma were already waiting on the same grassy corner we claimed last year.

About 9:30, after a guy up on the hill had finished scoping out the glitch with a flashlight, the display was running. Probably the best to date. And the only place I can think of where craning backwards affords the best view, the sparkling explosions are so close. Also a prime collection of earth shakers. Many, many earth shakers. After awhile, as the lengthy show continued, Puck turned back to me, rolled up in a soft blanket.

“Mom? Why does that girl keep screaming? Every time!”

I hadn’t really noticed it, but he was right. For every single firework, some little girl in the other yard beside the high school screamed bloody murder. Puck was getting annoyed.

“Why?! Why does she do that? Oh, for Pete’s sake!”

Despite the screaming, the display was a hit as usual, exploding in the cannon-boom-worthy earth-rattling finale, hot enough to blind you till tomorrow.