Who needs fireworks to have a blast?

They say there's a first time for everything; last weekend definitely made the list. We celebrated the

long Fourth of July weekend at the lake with family (Pete's brother, Chris; my sister-in-law/best friend/sister, Chelsea; nephew Ricky, who's 14; and baby Jonathan). Here are some notable firsts I observed during our four-day stay.

1. Katie, Andrew and Nicholas got to spend more time than they ever have with Ricky and Jonathan. They all got along so well. Ricky lives in another state with his mom. He stays for a month every summer and visits on rotating holidays. I guess we never thought of anything beyond day trips. Everything changes when a baby enters the picture.

2. Which leads me to the next first: Jonathan had never been swimming before our trip. He's had ear tubes placed in his ears so he has to wear plugs in the water and be very careful. We made sure he didn't get too wet, but he still had a great experience in the pool. Jonathan loved splashing and floating in the cool water.

3. After our first trip to the pool, Nicholas went out to the porch without a shirt on. He came back in like a boomerang, crying at the top of his lungs. He'd been stung by a wasp for the first time. Four days later and he still has a red whelp the size of a lipstick kiss.

4. The lake house where we stayed has a deck you can fish from. An alligator lurks beneath it waiting for marshmallow treats. The owners have named it Gucci. I'd never been within ten feet of an alligator.

5. Pete and Ricky went kayaking for the first time. To the left we could see Gucci, to the right daredevils. Then the brothers Pete and Chris had fun scaring their wives while paddling too close to Gucci for comfort.

6. The bigger cousins went on a hayride together. We were driven all through the Retreat at Artesian Lakes. I was able to get many beautiful pictures within this hidden getaway.

7. Fishing was a main attraction for many of us. We enjoyed nabbing fish of all sizes and then tossing them back into the lake. On the day we left, Pete and Chelsea both caught whoppers.

For the first time since I can remember fireworks were banned in most of the counties surrounding Southeast Texas. Who needs them anyway? We had a blast.

Freedom in America

Fireworks with Lee Greenwood* and Eminem*

(Battle of Radios)

An excited young family of five sat

in lawn chairs, AM synched to the show’s

music as patriotic fireworks splayed perfectly.

Lee Greenwood sang, “’Cause the flag still

stands for freedom and they can’t take that

away,” as red, white and blue stars lit

up the sky and warmed all hearts. Until

a group of loud teenagers drove up, radio blaring,

emitting smoke, rudely parked their cranked up

car by the family; was this a joke? Eminem belted,

“I don’t give a damn, what you think, I’m doing

this for me, so f....” The dad jumped out of his

seat turned his radio up, “’Cause there ain’t

no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA.”

The fireworks were growing bigger, beautiful

colors everywhere. All around were oohs and aahs,

the grand finale was near. The rebels danced

and laughed, turned their music even louder.

“Everybody come take my hand we’ll walk this road

together, through the storm.” At the same time,

even louder like a tug of war melody. “I’m proud

to be an American where at least I know I’m free.”

Freedom. 

That’s America.

@laurie kolp

*God Bless the USA, Lee Greenwood

*Not Afraid, Eminem

Prompt inspiration: Poets United Thursday Think Tank

Childhood Summer Memories, Part IV

All of the neighbors on Mimosa Drive had a huge block party every year on the Fourth of July.  As a young child, I looked forward to these outdoor social events. A smorgasbord of food could be found on red and white checkered card tables joined perfunctorily in the middle of the street; barbecued links, brisket, hamburgers, chips, cole slaw, potato salad, raw vegetables and fresh fruit. The dessert table was a sinful temptation for all of the women, but it was always where I stopped to fill my plate. The appetizing smells drifting through the thick, humid air always made my mouth water. 

My mom rolled our upright piano out into the street and provided music for everyone.  As the night wore on, people gathered around and sang along. Some danced cheek-to-cheek and moved around like stiff grasshoppers. I never quite understood why the adults grew friendlier and louder, but I did know that those adult beverages I was banned from had something to do with it.

The neighborhood kids and I played hopscotch, roller-skated and jumped rope while we waited for the main event. The summer heat and nagging mosquitoes never stopped us from having a good time, even though I was always the main target.

*

Sweaty supple skin

A mosquito’s sweet dessert

Temptation buzzing

*

We spent days practicing for the talent show to be performed for the grown-ups.  One neighbor’s mom was a seamstress, and she loved making elaborate costumes (with our help, of course).  We had so much fun prancing around the animated parents and making them laugh. Their lawn chairs lined the curbs, and we would parade up and down the street like kids on Halloween.

We always stayed up way too late so we could set off fireworks. Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon.* I was lying in the grass with my friends watching the colorful explosion in the sky when all of the sudden I heard screaming.  In the blink of an eye, all became still and silent.

I looked up to find people hovered around an older boy I did not know.  I ran over to see what all the commotion was about, but my mom stopped me before I could make it through the crowd.

“Don’t come any closer, honey,” she said.

“Why not?  What happened?” I asked.

“A teenager had fireworks explode in his hand and face. He’s badly hurt.  We’re going in now.”

I reluctantly followed my family inside, turning around several times to sneak a peek.  I never got a close look, and I never saw that boy again. I stayed away from firecrackers for many years.

*

The Fourth of July

fireworks exploding

in his face

*

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam- Use lyrics from a song

*Katy Perry, "Firework"

F is for Firecrackers

My childhood in New Orleans is full of happy memories playing with neighborhood friends.  I loved riding my bike and roller skating up and down the sidewalks of our quiet street.  Our neighbors would have huge block parties several times a year. Barriers would block our street so cars could not drive down it. The grown-ups cooked a smorgasbord of various kinds of food. My mom, a piano teacher, would roll our piano out into the street and provide music for everyone. Lawn chairs would be sprawled out to sit in and picnic tables set up to eat on. The children spent days practicing for the talent show we put on for the adults. Our next door neighbor’s mom was a seamstress and would help with costumes. We had so much fun prancing around our parents and making them laugh.

One particular block party was always around the Fourth of July. The heat and mosquitoes never stopped us from having fun, though. We always stayed up way too late so we could set off fireworks.

I was watching the explosion in the sky when all of the sudden I heard screaming. I looked up to find people hovered around an older boy I did not know very well. I ran over to see what all the commotion was about when my mom stopped me.

“Don’t go over there, honey,” she said.

“Why not? What happened?” I asked.

“That teenager had a firework explode in his hand and burn it. We’re going in now.”

I couldn’t believe that had happened. I was always overly concerned when it came to accidents, so I reluctantly followed my family inside, turning around several times to sneak a peek. The boy was taken to the hospital and the next time I saw him, his hand was all bandaged up. Since then, I have stayed away from firecrackers.