A Fireworks Surprise!

On the 4^th of July for over 30 years my husband and I visited with our families in the afternoons and evenings for barbeque and homemade ice cream.  Fireworks were always a part of the event whether it is daytime or night time.  This year, 2012, was different with our three adult children working and/or traveling.  Steve and I spent a fun evening reminiscing with my parents about past family events.

One Independence Day after shooting off fireworks, I was gathering our young children’s belongings.  It was late and everyone was in a hurry to go home.  The situation became chaotic.  While I hurriedly stuffed our children’s clothes in the diaper bag, my mother gathered a bag of garage sale items for me to take home.  “Oh, yes, take these fireworks with you, too.  The kids will have fun with them later,” my Mom told me.  “Here is a bag of trash.  What do you wish me to do with this?” asked Steve.  “Here, I will take care of it. Thanks, Steve” said my mother.  “Where do I put these left over hamburgers and hotdogs?” my dad asked.  The remainder of the evening continued with our children running here and there gathering toys and clothes.    

The next day I unpacked the bags.  I searched for the fireworks and could not find them.  “Oh well, I guess Mom forgot.”  In the meantime back in Polk County my Dad and my brother, Buddy were burning trash for my Mother next to the pasture filled with cows.  The farm pick up truck was parked about 20 feet away from where they were about to start the fire.  Standing around calmly talking about their day, my Dad and brother began to relax and unwind from the days activities.  They were watching their herd of cows grazing dry grass and watching a beautiful sunset.  The country is just peaceful and quiet with the frogs croaking and bugs buzzing at that time of the evening.

Or so it seemed, until a couple of firecrackers interrupted the stillness.  Crack, bang, and boom exploded a Roman candle which flew over Dad and Buddy’s heads.  An exploding fireball crashed onto the diesel tank on the back of the pick up truck.  Dad and Buddy jumped and looked at each other in surprise.  “What is going on?” asked Buddy.  Just then he saw a bottle rocket flying right at his head.  He ducked just in time or the bottle rocket probably would have parted his hair.  “Let’s head to the truck!  Let’s get out of here!  This is dangerous” exclaimed my Dad.

They sprinted to the truck, jumped in, started the truck, and backed up a long distance away in the nick of time.  The rest of the trash exploded into a firey mass.  It was like a tiny tiny atomic bomb.  “How in the hell did those fireworks get in the trash?” asked my Dad.  “I don’t know, but I am certainly thankful to be away from all that!” added Buddy.  As the two sat in the truck watching the explosions and fire burn down, they saw the cows were far away down the pasture.  “Well, it looks like the cows got a little thrill, too!”      

When the trash had burned itself out and all was calm again, Dad and Buddy traveled home.  “Are you trying to kill us?” asked my Dad as he stumbled into the back door.  “No, what are you talking about?” asked my Mom.  My brother and Dad shared their explosive experience with my Mom.  Laughing so hard my Mother fell back into the chair at the kitchen table.  

In all the chaos of us leaving and interrupting her train of thought with the buzz of activity, my mother absent mindedly put the fireworks in the trash bag rather than the garage sale bag!  We all enjoyed the fireworks!