Fourth of July, 2007

The fourth of July has changed quite a bit since I was young. It was hotter then. There were more firecrackers. We got up early to stand in line at the public school to get a free Hoodsie cup ice-cream and a wooden spoon. I couldn't eat with a wooden spoon without wrapping the handle in plastic because I didn't like the touch. And the wooden sensation from the spoon on my tongue wasn't the best sensation in the world but I could tolerate it to taste the chocolate-vanilla mix of processed ice-cream that I stood in line so early for. Some kids got in line for second helpings. Others asked for two or three for their absent siblings or their dogs. Then it was on to the parade. Balloons, pop-guns and my favorite, a monkey on a stick. I got one every year. The parade was long with band after band and clowns and floats of doll carriages and flowers, war veterans and politicians, shriners and fire-eaters. The sound of the big bass drums echoed in my stomach giving me an uneasy sensation, the horns blaring loudly as the brass section passed and faded in the distance. The Revolutionary tribute soldiers shooting their blank muskets in the air always stopped directly in front of us as we seeked shelter behind our parents and blocked our ears before the blast. There were always balloons being launched prematurley into the blue sky. Afterwards, the crowd filed home carrying their chairs and armloads of cheap toys destined to not last inot the afternoon.
After a few stops along the way we made it to my aunts house overlooking the hospital hill. Weeping willows for shade, family cooking, kids running around, music and festivities all afternoon into the night when in the distance we would see the foreworks and my mother would tell the story of how she was still in the hospital on the fourth of July after I was born, and she could see the fireworks from the window in her room, wishing she was with her family at the cookout on the hill.