Assuming no one goes out and does anything stupid today, which
is a big assumption, you can’t help but feel good that fireworks
will be booming in Gilroy this Fourth of July.
Assuming no one goes out and does anything stupid today, which is a big assumption, you can’t help but feel good that fireworks will be booming in Gilroy this Fourth of July.
Aside from funding just about every athletic program in South County in just a three-day period – the Gilroy High football team might not have been able to suit up a full roster in the fall had the city council decided to ban sales this summer – it really doesn’t feel like you’re celebrating our nation’s day of independence unless you set something on fire and watch it burn.
It would be like pie without the apple, jeans without the blue, the movie “Independence Day” without the Will Smith. Yes, a Fourth of July without fireworks would be about as depressing as watching a movie starring just Jeff Goldblum for two hours.
As a kid growing up in Missouri, it was an annual tradition for my dad and I to go to the fireworks tents just on the outskirts of town, buy a paper grocery bag full of goodies, drive up to my grandparents’ house and light them all off in the cul-de-sac. Neighbors would gather around to watch us set them off in the evenings. Dogs would hide under tables like they were practicing an earthquake drill.
But before I get too nostalgic, there’s some advice I need to share: Whatever you do, don’t go near the mysterious black mushroom. (No, I’m not trying to connect this story to a Jefferson Airplane song.)
After getting a bag of fireworks one year – for some reason this was a year we didn’t visit my grandparents, not sure why – I picked up a black mushroom the size of my fist, and asked my dad if we could get it. He asked the clerk how much it cost since there was no tag, and the response was, “I’ve never seen that one before. You can have it for free.”
Not everything in life that is free is a good thing.
We went home, filled a bucket full of water just in case things got out of hand, and walked to the driveway. Things were definitely about to get out of hand.
After going through half the bag, I pulled out the black mushroom. It looked like a gothic candle with the wick sticking out the bottom. Strange but harmless.
My dad put it down on the concrete, lit the bottom and took a few steps back. Let me stop right here and say, had you seen the black mushroom’s flight path, you would believe JFK was assassinated by one shooter and one bullet.
The black mushroom fizzled to our disappointment. We took a step closer – dumb move – when all of a sudden, the mushroom shot up in the air, turned left as if it was about to come right at us, and then made a U-turn into the tree that lined our driveway. The flames were immediate.
My dad rushed to the bucket and doused the fire, leaving us with the skeleton of a tree lining our driveway. (Oddly enough, thinking about that tree reminds me now of the fake Christmas tree my grandma refused to throw away after two decades of use – the Charlie Brown, accompanied with rain cloud, of Christmas trees.)
Of course, I was thoroughly entertained. I wasn’t hurt, so I figured it would have been a better idea to just buy a bag-full of black mushrooms next time around. For your sake, though, I hope you’ll know better than we did this time around.
