Monthly Archives: July 2008

The following is a letter I wrote in to the Gwinnett Daily Post about an article titled “Top 11 reasons not to get a tattoo” that ran in today’s paper.

Last night I went to see my first fireworks show in I don’t know how many years. I’ve never gotten any enjoyment out of them. When I was little I was always forced to go and when I did go, I saw the same thing. People would go to these shows, play their patriotic songs, wear their American flags, and “Ooh!” and “Aah!” at the fireworks. To me it was all just a guise, a way for people to show off and say “Hey, look at me! I’m patriotic!” Where are these people during the rest of the year?
Such was my feeling with church, and precisely the reason I don’t go nowadays. That’s another subject for another post though.
My wife asked me if I wanted to go last night and I reluctantly said yes, mostly as an excuse to get myself out of the house. We found a spot in town and settled in with our folding camp chairs and waited.
During our wait, and I have to share this, a police officer pulled over a guy on a motorcycle. Talk about embarrassing! I can’t imagine how embarrassed I’d be if I got pulled over in front of two hundred people. After he got his ticket, he rode off past us and was smiling and waving at everybody. I found that rather funny.
The police car was past the point where the number of lights becomes obscene. There were so many lights that the car itself may as well have been one big giant light bulb. It was just ridiculous! I’m seriously wondering if someone could sue the county had they seen that and gone into an epileptic seizure. I felt I just had to comment on the matter. I explained “The county doesn’t have enough money in its budget to fund this or that because they spent it all putting more lights on their police cars!” That got a nice laugh from everyone within earshot.
Anyway, back to the point of the story. I did enjoy the fireworks. There’s just something about explosions that intrigues me. I prefer the uncontrolled over the controlled but nevertheless, they’re explosions. I saw the same people with their flag t-shirts and there was even a truck behind us with its door wide open that had the radio tuned to some radio station playing patriotic songs. I tuned it all out the best I could and just watched. The beauty of the fireworks consumed me, all but the stupid smiley face ones and heart shaped ones. I hate those.
I watched and then I started to feel it, the gentle pounding of the shock waves against my chest. First you see the explosion, then you hear the bang, then not half a second later, you feel it. I don’t know what it is that gets me going when I feel that, but it makes me feel good inside. Just as I was starting to enjoy this little meditative state, finale came and it was over.
Ten bucks says those people are nowhere to be found today. The flag t-shirts will be sitting in their hampers and after they’re washed, folded up and tucked away in a drawer until next year. The radio stations will relegate all of their patriotic songs to their special “Fourth of July” dust bin folder. People will get back on their high horses about how they don’t like President Bush and how we need “change” and how the war in Iraq was for oil and that Saddam never did anything to us. Everyone will go back to being their two-faced selves…until next year.