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And we return to our American stories in our Fourth of July special. All show long, we're celebrating the things that make America. The special country that it is. Up next, a story from Dennis Peterson. Dennis is a writer from South Carolina.
And today he shares with us the stories of memorable experiences he's had throughout his life. on Independence Day. Take it away, Dennis. John Adams, our nation's first vice president, wrote to his wife Abigail after passage of the Declaration of Independence. He described how he thought the day should be celebrated by future generations.
Okay. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore. Apparently, my father had never heard about that quotation. Because when I was a kid growing up in East Tennessee, our celebrations of July 4th.
were decidedly low-key. We never had any fireworks. not even a solitary firecracker. Daddy thought fireworks were too dangerous for us. You'll blow off your fingers or put out an eye.
He direly prophesied. I don't work hard just so you can blow up my money. he declared.
So July 4th celebrations were quiet, reduced to a cookout and maybe a few games of badminton in the back yard, and we kids came through every July 4th with all fingers and eyes intact. Fireworks were illegal in Knox County. One had to go to the fireworks stand just across the county line in neighboring Union County to buy fireworks. Regardless of their illegality in Knox County, fireworks were ubiquitous all over the county on July 4th. The police simply look the other way.
unless someone complained about unruly revelers. A few times our family would drive into the state fairgrounds in Knoxville. to watch the officially sanctioned fireworks display held there every fourth. But usually we had to be content to watch them at home from a great distance. We lived outside the city limits, miles from the fairgrounds.
But if it was a clear night, we could see some of the highest rockets and mortar shells burst on the horizon beyond the ridges, and we could hear the delayed booms of the explosions. We saw the color burst several seconds before we heard the report. In fact, the colors often had fallen from view by the time the sound of the boom reached us. After I was married and was living in a Row home in southeastern Pennsylvania, the Volunteer Fire Department of the little town sponsored and conducted an impressive fireworks display at the nearby community park. We didn't have to leave home to enjoy 90% of the performance.
Other townhouses blocked our view of ground displays, but the aerial displays were just as if we had been on the launching pad. People from outside our community crowded into our development hours before dark, staking claim to any empty parking spaces. As darkness fell, the residents gathered their lawn chairs in their tiny postage stamped patches of lawns or aligned them along the sidewalks to ensure a good view. and the firemen never disappointed us in the quality of the fireworks they chose to feature. They always announced the start of the performance by launching a huge mortar shell that exploded high, high in the air, showering multicolored sparks across the entire sky and rattling windows all over the community.
They left no one doubting when the fireworks would begin. Then they proceeded to launch their featured fireworks for the next 20 or 30 minutes. Everyone oohed and awed at the beautiful display of colors. Kids screamed with each ear-splitting, chest-pounding explosion. Everyone voiced a running commentary of how great the preceding display had been, until the next one interrupted their opinion, and that one produced an even more laudatory commentary.
They applauded and cheered loudly when the grand finale was fired. and it was always the loudest, longest, highest, and most colorful display of the night. But no matter how long the performance lasted, every spectator was left wanting more, and the firemen seemed to oblige by providing bigger and better and longer lasting performances with each succeeding year. But then, one year, it all came to an ignominious end. The echoes from the shot that announced the start of the show had barely died away.
The firemen had chosen to begin with several ground displays, so those of us who lived several blocks from the park couldn't see what was happening. but we could hear their reports, and the whirring of the spinning displays, and see their glow above the rooftops. But then the sound of explosions became a rolling and rumbling roar, and the glow above the rooftops suddenly became much brighter. And then that sound was replaced by an eerie silence. We saw only a dark sky above us.
Then we heard sirens, and knew that something was wrong. Then word spread like wildfire as an eye witness ran back from the park with the horrifying news. A mortar had fallen over when one of the ground displays was lit, and it had shot along the ground right into the cache of combustibles, igniting them and scattering explosives all over the park. The next day a curious youngster was exploring the burnt grounds of the park and found one of the few fireworks that had not been ignited by the conflagration. It exploded as he held it.
severing his thumb. After that tragedy, the Volunteer Fire Department refused to sponsor another fireworks display. The risk was too great. Yeah. That was years ago.
Our kids were so young that I doubt if any of them remembers that event. But after they were married, had kids of their own, and returned to visit on other 4ths of July, I wanted to give the grandkids a celebration to remember. A few people in our small subdivision sometimes shot off a few fireworks every year. But big or small, everyone enjoyed the private fireworks displays. One year, I decided to join the performers rather than remain a mere spectator.
so I bought a supply of assorted fireworks and laid out an area of the back yard to be my launching pad. It rained the afternoon of the fourth, and the humidity remained high as darkness approached. Brief periods of sprinkles continued off and on. But rain or no rain, the show would go on. I lit the fuse on the first mortar round, designed to be heard more than seen, and ran.
I slipped on the wet grass and nearly fell. The mortar did its job, announcing to the whole neighborhood the beginning of our performance. As we fired more and more of the pyrotechnics, the smoke got thicker. It got so thick that I could hardly see the fuses as I tried to light them in the rays of my weak flashlight. Coughing and sputtering and slipping on the wet grass, I kept the performance going.
With neighbors also shooting their own fireworks, our community sounded as though it were waging a small civil war. One year, my niece Charity and her husband Brandon visited Over the Forth with their newly adopted baby daughter, Bryn. While Brandon and I lit the fireworks, Charity and my wife Connie watched. Toward the end of the display, we lit one rocket and ran. The force of the launch turned over the pad, rocketing the projectile toward the house right where the ladies were sitting.
Thankfully, they were alert and jumped aside just in time to avoid catastrophe. I could just hear Daddy's warning from beyond the grave. You'll lose a finger or an eye with fireworks. But over the years, my appreciation for the fourth has grown. I've realized increasingly what it is that we're celebrating on the 4th.
It's not about loud booms and bright, multicolored sparks. We are celebrating our independence from government tyranny. We are celebrating our freedom. That freedom did not come cheaply it was bought at a great price. With each crackle of firecrackers, with each boom of a mortar shell, with every spray of color and sparkle against the night sky, We should be heeding the advice of John Adams by offering our thanks for the freedom we enjoy in this nation whose birthday we're celebrating.
and we should do so safely. And a special thanks to Dennis Peterson for that submission, and thank you to Monty for the production. And I've been to so many great fireworks celebrations, Macy's. down in the New York Harbor, St. Louis over the arch.
But my favorite in the Redneck Riviera. Up and down the Gold Coast, all you saw were private celebrations. Little ones, big ones, and then of course the town ones. The entire beach was lit. for an hour straight.
It's a beautiful part of the country. Our Independence Day celebration here on Our American Stories. This July 4th, celebrate freedom from spills, stains, and overpriced furniture with Anibay, the only machine-washable sofa inside and out, where designer quality meets budget-friendly pricing.
Sofas started just $699, making it the perfect time to upgrade your space. Anibay's pet-friendly, stain-resistant and interchangeable slip covers are made with high-performance fabric that's built for real life. You'll love the cloud-like comfort of hypoallergenic, high-resilience foam that never needs fluffing and a durable steel frame that stands the test of time. With modular pieces, you can rearrange any time. It's a sofa that adapts to your life.
Now, through July 4th, get up to 60% off site-wide at washablesofas.com. Every order comes with a 30-day satisfaction guarantee. If you're not in love, send it back for a full refund. No return shipping, no restocking fees, every penny back. Declare independence from dirty, outdated furniture.
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