Happy Fourth of July

Can't help but recall one July 4th of my childhood. Our family always hosted the holiday picnic, mainly because we had the largest back yard. We were living in Elgin, Illinois, and most of those homes built in early 1900's were 1/2 block in depth; two houses, back-to-back, on separate streets. This permitted large front and back yards. We had a couple of picnic tables out there and Dad would let the grass grow during most of June, probably. Then he would mow it in the shape of a diamond so that we young'uns could play softball. On this particular 4th ( or a day or two before) Dad and I went downtown to buy fireworks. We took them home and it wasn't long before I had to ask if maybe we coouldn't fire off a "sample." (Quality control???) "Nope," Dad said. I asked again the next day, I think. "No, I already said," he said. (Yes... I asked a third time.) He didn't say anything. Just grabbed the bag of goodies and marched out in back and set fire to the whole bag. Man alive. It was something. I never asked a third or second time for anything ever again. Yes, that was harsh. The harshest he ever was. All I can figure is that it was the summer I turned 9 and Mom had died (about two months earlier.) Faced with raising me alone, still grieving, he certainly deserved to be forgiven. Fortunately, it was also a custom for young'uns to bring "sparklers" to the event. One or two were "slipped" to me, I guess. And all of a sudden, "sparklers" were great! Grandpa Jim.