Starburst explosions;

Symbols of celebration.

Siss, boom, pop pop pop.

My first recollection of a fireworks display on the 4th of July was when my age was written with a single numeral. It was a birthday celebration, and I'm sure that the adults in attendance were aware of the duality of the festivities. But for me, it was Uncle Ed's birthday party. The bestest part for me was the yellow cake with chocolate frosting, his favorite, made by Aunt Nellie.

After dark, mom put a lit sparkler in my little hand and showed me how to trace sparkling light trails in the air. Meanwhile the men were setting off roman candles, rockets, cherry bombs and strings of firecrackers. We all oohed and ahhed at the starbursts and booms, and booed at the duds. The whole thing was over in 15 minutes and everyone said their final happy birthdays to Uncle Ed, commented on the day's perfect weather, and departed for each of their respective homes around the neighborhood.

A decade later, in early adolescence, when a few friends and I would sneak across the river to Canada on the ferry: sneak? Yeah right; like every adult on board didn't know who we were, where we were going and why! School was out and the 4th of July was just around the corner. It was illegal to sell fireworks in New York State but not so in Canada. We were off to spend our paper route monies on packets of firecrackers, with the keen knowledge that our clandestine trip would go undetected and that the custom's agents would never suspect that we were bringing illegal contraband into the U.S..

Of course besides the 'crackers we would also buy a cone of chips with vinegar plus some other trinkets so as to "fool" the custom's agents into thinking that that was the real reason for our trip to Prescott.

How they must have chuckled after they let us through without searching us, knowing full well that there would be plenty of mini explosions in the 'burg on the 4th of July.