Well, we made it. The 4th of July weekend is upon us.
There was a time in my life when the 4th of July was a month-long event, rather than simply a three day weekend. That was before the dark times, before the Empire. . . I mean, before a job, and a home, and payments and responsibilities, and all those other icky things that intrude into our lives: also known as "adulthood."
When I coming up, which is an old-timey way of saying "growing up," I started to prepare for the 4th of July during the first week of June, or even into May if I could swing it, by buying fireworks. Granted, fireworks were illegal in Minnesota at the time, but trying to keep fireworks out of the hands of determined children is like trying to keep Lindsay Lohan away from a bottle of Grey Goose.
It's funny, but one of my earlier memories was of my Dad taking my brother and me down to the basement--the darkest place on the planet--and lighting a couple of sparklers. The fact that's one of my earliest memories should tell you a bit about the deeply ingrained allure of fireworks flickering in my soul.
For a solid month, I'd build my fireworks stockpile and keep it under lock and key in my skate box. I'd open it from time to time to marvel at the colors and breathe in the spicy aroma of gunpowder just waiting to be ignited.
This year marks the first 4th of July for my son, Aiden, and I have to admit I'm a bit torn. On the one hand, I want him to enjoy the holiday and the fireworks that are part of it, but on the other hand (thank God I still have two) I remember all too well the misadventures I had with pyrotechnics over the years. I'm probably one of only a handful of Americans who never went into the military, but nevertheless managed to detonate a grenade in his parents' backyard. So, I've set some fairly dangerous firework precedents, and I can see in my baby boy's eyes the glint of a child who will be no stranger to the lighter and fuse, whether I encourage him or not.
Fireworks are now legal in Minnesota, which is to say the most boring fireworks on the planet. If it can leave the earth or make a boom, it's still illegal, so we're left with things that, to use industry lingo: "Emit showers of sparks." Which, that's still cool and all, and to a nine-month old I'm sure they're every bit as magical as my father with his sparkers in the basement, but my boy's bound to discover the real world of fireworks at some point. You can make fireworks as illegal in Minnesota as you want, after all; so long as we share a border with South Dakota, we're going to get the bigger stuff, just as sure as you're going to get cocaine coming out of Mexico.
Perhaps it's a bit premature to be worrying about how and when my son will discover his first firework artillery shell. Hopefully, if I show good judgement and safety this year, some tendrils of that cautionary behavior will make its way into his rapidly-developing mind and will exhibit itself in his firework use years from now.
So, this year, probably tomorrow, I'll buy a big assortment of Minnesota-approved fireworks, and I'll light them this weekend as he watches, no doubt with delighted eyes, and we'll celebrate together this ongoing experiment that is America.
Enjoy your Independence Day, and the independence that comes with it.
Ryan: You know, I was just thinking about the name "Matt."
Caroline: That's ... not interesting.
Ryan: You never think of an old person with the name of "Matt."
Ryan: A 90-year-old named Matt. I just can't see that.
Caroline: Or Ryan.
Ryan: Hey, I plan on dying at 50, so there.
Caroline: Shit, you'd better get livin'.
Ryan: Now, Caroline, that's an old person's name you could set your watch to.
Caroline: Old Caroliiiiiiiiiiine, good times never seemed so good
Ryan: Or so far away.
Ryan: Bradley is a good old person name, so you're safe there.
Caroline: PHEW
Ryan: Bradley is an old man, sucking thoughtfully on a corncob pipe, feeling the tingle in his right knee because it's gonna rain, sure 'nuff.
Caroline: Old man Bradley
Ryan: Marc's a goner at 52 though. Ain't no Old Man Marcs.
Caroline: He plans on dying at 56ish.
Ryan: Wait, he could always play the Marcus card, I guess. That would at least buy him into his 70s.
Caroline: It's the Marks who need to worry.
Ryan: If they try to go with Markus, God smites them on the spot on general principle.
Ryan: Matthew can get you into your 80s, I suppose.
Caroline: That's better
Ryan: There's really no way for me to get old with my name. Just "Ry" might let me limp into my 60s.
Caroline: And there's no using your middle name to help the cause.
Let's be honest.
Ryan: No. My parents pretty much doomed me with "Carroll."
Caroline: My middle name is Louise, which is a fantastic old-person name.
Ryan: Shit, you're set until you're 112.
Ryan: Carroll O'Conner made it to 76, so I could maybe go that route.
Caroline: Brittany Murphy proved that she didn't have an old-person's age.
Although Heath should be an old-person's name and that didn't pan out.
Ryan: If Brittany can't make it, then Britney is totally screwed.
Ryan: You know what's hilarious to me?
Caroline: I think the watering can was the problem.
Ryan: Isn't it always?
Caroline: Typically, yes.
Ryan: It's astounding she was able to keep on her feet as long as she did, frankly. Damn that's just funny! One of those videos that will always make you laugh.
Ryan: Maybe we could do a documentary about HER!!!!!!!!!! She could meet the news anchors!
Caroline: Totally!
Ryan: "Runway Girl"
Caroline: "Watering Can Fail"
Ryan: LOLO! I KNEW you were going to include something about the watering can.
Caroline: It's just too great not to.
Ryan: How many careers have been destroyed by watering cans?
Caroline: I bet she was all "I own this runway." Then the designer said she had to walk with the prop and all hell broke loose. Can not walk.
Ryan: It's generally understood watering cans can't walk themselves.
Caroline: And models can't walk with watering cans.
Today was Aiden's nine-month doctor check-up. He received a clean bill of health and, even though his length and weight remain about average, his noggin continues to top the charts at an astonishing 97 percentile.
Perhaps inspired by all the confidence instilled in him by his successful check-up, Aiden apparently decided today was also the day he was just going to start crawling all over the place. Granted, he's been army crawling pretty much throughout June, but today marked the first time he just up and started crawling everywhere in the normal fashion.
Perhaps unfairly, I relied on a visual pointer to cajole him into demonstrating his new crawling ability, but I had to do what I had to do.
I've officially owned my current automobile for ten years. The 1996 Cadillac Eldorado two door came to my attention in June of 2000 after the grandfather of a friend of mine passed away and the vehicle became available as the family looked to liquidate his assets. In other words, I bought an old-man's car because it had very low miles (39,000) and an equally low price.
I always stressed to friends and family that I planned to drive the Cadillac until it gave up its automotive ghost and was no longer driveable, and I'm beginning to suspect--now at 140,000 miles--that it may very well be nearing that once inconceivable fate. Rust now eats its way through both doors, the driver's side leather seat is now a cracked and broken mess, the front-end assembly can be heard dangerously rattling, and the driver's side window only goes back up when it damned-well feels like it.
Most of the cosmetic stuff doesn't both me. I can live with rust and a disintegrating car seat, but the front-end assembly rattle presents me with a bit of a cunundrum. Fixing it would cost in the realm of $800+, and I just don't quite believe it's worth that investment.
The irritating thing about the front-end assembly damage is that it was almost completely the fault of Yellowstone National Park. Specifically, it was a poorly-maintained access road in Yellowstone National Park that had no signs indicating it was in such poor condition most Humvees couldn't successfully traverse it. By the time I finished gingerly picking my way through that harrowing ordeal, I was frankly astounded I still had four functioning wheels beneath me.
I won't necessarily miss my Cadillac when it finally gives up the fight, but I will miss the fact the thing has been fully paid for since 2003. I don't look forward to the days of car payments again, although it will be nice to have a more practical automobile for the sake of carting my baby boy around.
