July 4th memories

Lauren is in a neighborhood parade this morning. “And Momma, guess what? I get to ride my bike and it will be DECORATED!!” I remember the 4th of July in my childhood as being the fun holiday. We kids were usually left to our own devices. The only schedule revolved around when the fireworks would start.

Until I was 8, we lived on a cul de sac. As it was suburbia, there were lots of kids on our street, and it seemed that every July 4th we’d have a parade . We’d decorate our bikes with crepe paper and balloons and we’d dress up–for some reason, my favorite dress up involved this filmy blue nightgown of my mother’s. We’d tell all the parents to come and start the parade. One year I pulled my little brother in a wagon. It felt so important and grown up to have this little parade, around the cul de sac twice.

We kids were also critical to the task of ice cream making. My dad inevitably would have a trip to Grand Junction, on Colorado’s Western slope, the week before the 4th, and he’d stop in Palisade to pick up a bushel of their famous peaches. (In the 1970s, it was uncommon to get them in our grocery stores.) He’d prep them, slipping their furry skins from their sweet flesh, chopping them into rough chunks. He’d let me help measure out the cream and sugar into the bowl. Then, we kids would take turn cranking the ice cream churn on the old fashioned maker. We also had to monitor the ice level and sometimes got to add rock salt to keep the ice a slurry. It took hours and hours–excruciating lengths of time to a 5-year-old–for this ice cream to be finished.

We’d eat hamburgers in the back yard for dinner, then light up sparklers just as the sun went down. It’s amazing to me now that my parents were brave enough to let their small children hold these implements of 3rd degree burns. My dad and his friends–who were younger then than I am now, I’ve just realized–would set off fountains in the middle of the street in a display that was usually more fun, even, than the professional display because it was our own. The kids could light off small things. My favorites were these black tablets that turned into snakes. The whole cul de sac would be littered with spent fireworks in the morning, and the dads would go out with brooms to sweep it all up.

When it was full dark, we’d climb up on the rooftop with bowls of ice cream–so delicious–to watch the neighborhood fireworks show. I remember being very scared of the big thump of the explosions. I felt it in my chest, and it made me afraid I was going to explode too.

Some of my other favorite July 4th memories:

Vail with friends the summer after high school. There were about 9 of us in a hotel room in Avon, and we drank about 9 cases of beer that weekend and made the beer can pyramids to prove it. We got chased by security guards when we were setting off fireworks on the tennis courts. And my best passed out in the bathroom, breaking her front tooth and requiring us to find a dentist in Vail on a national holiday. It was fun!

The summer of my divorce, 2004, I was in full “I am a strong, capable woman” mode, and to prove it I went camping by myself at the base of Colorado’s tallest 14er, Mt. Elbert. I’m not really much of a camper, but this adventure seemed necessary to me, critical even. I found a campsite, put up my tent, started a fire, hiked by myself. In the morning, I climbed Mt. Elbert–on the easier, non-technical side, mind you, but I got to the top. It took me five and a half hours. At the top, I remembered that I had to be in Denver by 4:30 to go to Cirque du Soleil. I literally ran down the mountain. It took me just under 2 hours to get down. I tore down my camp and drove home at about 85 mph, arriving just in time to take a quick shower before my date showed up. I did all that with no help or guidance from anyone–especially not a man. I felt wonderful.

Last July 4th, Steve and I were camping near Taylor Reservoir, and on July 4th, we drove to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, one of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. We hiked along the Gunnison river a while, and I spotted two deer. I also took some beautiful photos. On the way back to camp, we stopped in Gunnison proper, grabbed some Taco Bell, and watched fireworks through the sunroof of my car. It was such a wonderful weekend that included some stuff that is only funny now, like the fact that Steve cannot handle going more than about 9.5 hours without a shower and gets very cranky when he’s “unclean,” so he gave himself a birdbath in a Wal-Mart bathroom. Memories.

Last night, we had BBQ then watched the Glendale fireworks display sitting in the Saab with the top down. Tonight, we’ll hook up with my family for a picnic and to watch the fireworks in Englewood. No major plans, no stress, no gifts to buy. It’s why July 4th is my favorite holiday (outside of Christmas).