By Butch Freedman
I’m not holding my breath.
Yes, it’s that time of year. The true beginning of summer festivities — vacation time, outdoor picnics, kids and teachers freed from the classroom, time with family and friends, and, oh yes, fireworks. I loved all that as a kid, especially the fireworks. My mother only allowed us to buy sparklers. We would run around outside waving them in the dark. Sometimes they would scorch our hands, but no major damage done. Pretty innocent stuff. The real fireworks were put on by the city, big boomers that lit up the skies to the oohs and ahhs of the assembled watchers. Those spectacular blasts were handled by the professionals and nobody got hurt, and no houses were set on fire. See where I’m going with this?
I’m not so in love with fireworks any longer. In fact I dread them, dread the Fourth of July. Don’t understand the connection between patriotism and mass conflagration. Maybe I’m a curmudgeon, but in this case, I believe I’ve got good cause. Fireworks, and the mis-named firecrackers (they’re way more than a crack) have gotten completely out of hand. They are no longer limited to sparklers and poppers. Now, all night on the Fourth — and the fifth, maybe even the sixth — our little piece of paradise is rattled all night long by loud, bomb-like explosions. No chance of getting to sleep before 3 am, dogs and old folks traumatized and huddling in corners, fire department on all-night alert, responding to porches aflame and fingers blown away. Don’t take my word for it; you can read the next-day accounts for yourself.
But aren’t those fireworks illegal in Oregon you might reasonably ask. And, yes, they are. In fact, there is a potential fine of $500 for their use. But, sad to say, there is little enforcement. I’m not aware of any enforcement where we live, despite the very obvious and year-after-year predictable, and ever-increasing violations. Also a threat, the seemingly increasing intensity and volatility of these small bombs. Understandably, fireworks usage is a hard thing to patrol, especially with limited manpower. Still, even a token arrest or fine could go a long way to stopping the worst offenders. Maybe even prevent a fire or three, or yet another maiming.
So, yes, maybe all this does make me a spoil sport. I’ll accept that. But maybe those folks who must spend half of their summer collecting illegal fireworks (from who knows where) to explode their ill-gotten munitions for a few hours, might also look into their behavior. Is impressing your kids and friends really worth it? Is setting off a bomb really that much of a thrill. You know, there are other ways to celebrate. Go to the public displays, handled by the fireworks trained professionals. Those events are exciting, choreographed, even beautiful. But leave us old folks and dogs alone for once. And yes, I do realize I’m probably spitting into the wind. Alas, I’ve gotten pretty good at that.
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