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The 4th of July

My hometown had some 8,000 residents, situated midway between Kansas City and St. Louis, on the Missouri River. James A. Michener mentioned the town without using its name in the book “Centennial.” By Missouri standards, we were a small town. A reformatory for boys, ages 10-18, was located on the edge of town, complete with a dairy.

Every 4th of July they put on a free fireworks display. When we lived in town, my dad would drive the car to the prescribed parking lot and we’d settle in for the evening. Mom always made lots of snacks to munch on, refusing to spend money at the snack bar.

The lengthy display was filled with superlative sights. The Chinese really had a good thing going.

When we moved to the country, we were only a couple of miles from the displays. Dad no longer drove us to town to watch, but kids could see them from second story windows. Beginning when I was 8 years old, I’d sit in one of those window casings, my legs hanging down toward the first floor. Colored light exploded over the trees.

My parents bought fireworks for day and night. My brother enjoyed the noise making of firecrackers. I wanted a light show. Relatives would come to the farm, and an uncle would light everything. The first big blast cleared all the birds from the front yard tree.

I still enjoy light displays and now am pleasantly surprised to view some out my front door and bedroom window. Fireworks cost money, and our Chamber of Commerce tries to finance a memorable evening display. If you enjoy watching, why not help pay for them? Everything adds up, and before you know it they will be working on the 2019 display!

 

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