I’ve never really been a fan of Independence Day. I usually like the atmosphere surrounding the holiday: the barbecues, the outdoor activities, people having the day off from work, pool parties, etc. However, as a whole, I kind of hate the day.
I remember my parents bringing my brother and I to places to see fireworks, often times at a local lake. But rather than enjoy the fireworks, I often would get anxious about the dangers involved in such a display. Even at a young age I would get worried that these bright balls that seemed to be made of fire would rain down on the crowd. Even though they often seemed to flame out before even coming close to the crowd, I still had trouble comfortably enjoying the show.
Eventually, it became a tradition for my family to attend a Phillies game at Veterans Stadium (and eventually Citizen’s Bank Park) around the 4th of July to see a game and stay for a fireworks display afterward. There were even times that we were allowed to sit on the actual playing field in order to enjoy the show. One of my favorite memories of spending time with my grandmother is sitting on a blanket on the field of Veterans Stadium, watching the fireworks. But still, the anxiety existed.
When you’re watching a fireworks show in a stadium, not only does the noise reverberate even more, but if you’re sitting in a seat, you can feel everything vibrate. There would sometimes be visions in my head of pieces of the stadium falling apart due to the thundering vibrations of the fireworks. Needless to say, this would often take away from the enjoyment of the displays.
During another Independence Day, and though I can’t remember the specific circumstances surrounding the events, I remember driving from my parents’ house in New Jersey back to the place I shared with my now-wife in Philadelphia with my brother also in the car, when we got stuck somewhere in the city due to traffic and events taking place in celebration of Independence Day. I remember not really knowing where we were after having been diverted from our route, but I remember it was dark and there were loud pops and bangs and other loud noises everywhere around us. I speculate that some of those noises would be reminiscent of World War II noises.
Not only that, but while we were stuck in traffic, there were seemingly-hundreds of people out in the streets, walking just inches away from our car. We were completely surrounded, and I’ve never felt so claustrophobic in my own car. To top it off, we were greeted by the sight of kids (perhaps teenagers) riding through the street and sidewalks ON HORSEBACK! I kid you not, there were actually kids riding ponies through the streets of Philadelphia with glow sticks hanging from said ponies as the hit and abused the animals (I would later find out that the ponies were part of a program that allowed inner-city youth the chance to ride these horses; why they had them out that night, I have no idea). To this day, that was one of the strangest, eeriest, most unique, and scariest nights of my life.
During another holiday, I remember getting separated from my wife (then still my fiancé) as she and a friend were somehow able to get into a crowded bar while my friend and I were turned away at the door. I called to my wife, but she did not hear me. My friend and I were stuck outside waiting for them to come out. Meanwhile, I had to deal with the doorman who thought we were trying to get in through the side door, and then he didn’t believe that I was old enough to enter into the bar. This put me in such a horrible mood that by the time I was able to get inside, I was only in there long enough to tell everyone I was leaving, and that was it.
And now, I am sitting here in this house while I hear our neighbors setting off small fireworks constantly, and sometimes even huge, illegal fireworks. In addition to that, all day we’ve had to endure the R&B coming from one of the houses behind ours. There aren’t many types of music I hate more than R&B. It’s supposed to rain, so hopefully that will drive some people indoors, though that just means the next nice evening will be riddled with whatever fireworks are leftover.
So, needless to say anymore, this holiday is not really my favorite. Though, aside from the fear that I had as a kid of fireworks raining fire down on me, I will say that those days and the baseball games before the displays (and, really, even most of the fireworks displays after I realized I wasn’t going to die) are all fond memories of mine. I always enjoy spending time with my family, so any holiday that gives me such an excuse is not all bad. Unfortunately, the tradition of attending a Phillies game ended a year or two ago, and I don’t know if it will ever pick up again.
I will say, though, that I do remember one nice Independence Day in particular. We didn’t even have to leave the house. It was a few years ago when my wife and I were living in the Art Museum area of Philadelphia. We were just blocks away from an Elton John concert taking place at the Art Museum, which was certainly not something we were interested in attending. But after the concert, there was a big fireworks show, one that we could see from our bedroom window. We pulled one of the chairs from the living room into the bedroom, set it up in front of the window, sat down and watched the show. We were far enough that I knew that we were safe, and we didn’t have any crowd to deal with. And, to top it off, we kept the television on so if there was anything we couldn’t see well from our window, we could see it seconds later on the television broadcast. It was perhaps the most relaxing and enjoyable 4th of July I’ve ever had (including this one).
