Muscatine

Keeping in mind that I did not grow up here in Muscatine.........

Black cat firecrackers.  Illegal in Iowa, but somehow we always ended up with some.  If you weren't careful, the whole pack would go off (100?) and it sounded like a machine gun attack.

Cherry bombs.  Pack them in mud, light, and toss into a pond.  Looked like a depth charge.

The smell of "snakes", those nasty little hunks of charcoal-looking stuff that left horrible marks on the sidewalks. 

Tossing almost-done sparklers through the air into the river. 

An icy cold Nesbitt Strawberry pop and a frozen snickers bar. 

The scent of 15 or 20 charcoal grills going within a three block area. 

Fireworks.  At the place we used to go, they shot them from the far side of a pond, TOWARD the crowd.  Every once in awhile one wouldn't go off quite soon enough, and Kaboom right over our heads.  Don't think those safety standards would fly today.

M-80's.  As I learned later in life, the equivalent of a quarter stick of dynamite, or something of the sort.  Again, a miracle nobody got a leg blown off. 

In later years, driving back from Colorado state with my wife on the night of the 4th, and seeing small town fireworks displays all along the way. 

Keeping in mind today that of all the countries that have ever existed, and of all the billions of people that have lived, we are the only ones who have enjoyed true independence and freedom. Enjoy the day.

Yeesh.....I can almost smell the snakes.  The smoke from those things was yellow and black.  Nasty.

The Nesbitt soda took me back.  Grape.  Strawberry.  Lemon-Lime.  Root beer.  Cream soda.  Orange.  Later, they came out with the blue Cream soda.  My folks had an old fridgedaire in the basement.   Cool and damp down there on a hot summer day.  No air conditioning.  That old fridge kept the pop with just a thin layer of ice on top. 

The 4th also signalled to us that summer vacation was nearly half over.  Sad thoughts of going back to school filled our sun-baked heads. 

Ah yes,  when I was just a young professor at at the community college, we celebrated the 4th with a nice latte and a hot tub, good conversation, my pipe, and the occasional reefer.  It was during this time that my brother Dave suffered his debilitating injury.  Got his foot stuck in the hot tub jet.  His girl friend Mallory, being much larger and stronger than poor Dave, yanked on his until his foot was freed, but alas, it also cause that dastardly foot injury that causes him to continually lean to the left.  The poor wretch has a devil of a time finding those shoe lifts to keep his on the straight and narrow.  Always to the left.

Of course the incident damaged the psyche of poor Mallory beyond repair.  They did marry of course, but her weight issues ballooned out of control.  Other than the occasional employment by Macy's as a stand-by Thanksgiving day balloon and the obvious circus gigs, there just aren't that many jobs out there for her.  We at the college have sponsored many fundraisers, but the locals just plain don't like her very much.  She's really quite pleasant once you get by the spaghetti stains, but continues to also lean left on Dave's behalf.  I assume it makes him feel a bit more wanted. 

We in the world of academia wish you all an explosive 4th. 

Your friend,

Professor Joe