Every fourth of July, my family heads out in search of the perfect spot from which to watch the fireworks display. We’ll stroll through town to see what the neighbors are doing, we’ll sit in traffic as we inch toward the city along with all of the other last-minute planners in town. Ultimately, every fourth of July, we wind up watching the Macy*s display on TV because, in truth, that is the best view. We’re comfortable on the sofa, not standing or straining our necks to see the sky. We’re surrounded by a/c, not shoulder to shoulder with strangers in the sweltering July night air. And we have snacks. 
Last year, however, we planned early and headed up to Rye, New York where, at Rye Playland, there would be an evening fireworks display. It was going to be perfect. The first live, professional display we would see as a family.
We arrived early and enjoyed some brain-scrambling rides and a mind-sorting stroll along the boardwalk. When the heat became too much for us, we found a shady area where we could sit, relish the lush coolness of overpriced ice cream and watch a bandshell performance. With tummy’s too full for more rides, we spent some tokens in the arcade at the ice hockey and skeeball tables then sinfully noshed on food items we’d deem questionable at any other venue.
And then, as the air grew slightly less humid, and the sky turned gor
geous shades of pink and blue, we headed toward the paths overlooking the Long Island Sound. We plucked our way through a growing crowd until we picked a perfect and comfortable vantage spot from which we’d wait for the start of the show.
We waited standing. We waited leaning against the chin high wrought iron fence. We waited sitting cross-legged on the ground. We waited, fanning ourselves, as the cooler night air no longer seemed cool. We commiserated about the long wait with strangers sitting beside us. We laughed. We chatted. We met people from our own neighborhood who had taken the drive as we did. We met people from France and Poland. We complained at how late it was getting with nary a hint of celebration in the sky.
And then musi
c blasted over Golliath-sized speakers and we all jumped, covered our ears, then laughed and rose to our feet, eager for the show to finally begin…and with a sputter, it did. The music faltered as the first rockets shot into the air. The music started again. Fireworks were suddenly absent. Silence fell and we waited. Faces tipped to the sky. And then another blast of music and crash of explosions sounded above us, beside us, in all directions as glorious showers of light streaked through the sky.
Ooo’s and aaah’s came from the crowd. Applause, pointing, random 
“wow’s” and laughter sounded all around and then…all went quiet. And dark. Again. And then a sputter, like a premature ejaculation, left us all with brows furrowed as we wondered over the anti-climatic conclusion to the show. Many people turned away, young ones skipping, smiling and happy about what they just saw. Older ones wondering if they should request a refund since staying for the fireworks required an additional park fee.
As they reached the mid-point toward the exit, the music started again. People stood in the exit paths, faces to the clouds again as the sky lit up and an awe-inspiring show ensued. The music and explosions were not in sync but at that point, no one cared.
We’d made friends with the people beside us. We’d shared quips about ‘poor performances’, and we bitched about poor planning. We also shared sympathy for the firework handlers since the whole thing had been planned quite properly but a computer glitch had sent the whole show – and all of the computer techs and summer part-timers – scrambling to get this once-per-year event back on track.
Here’s a look at the show as we saw it that night –
What does all of this mean? If the show had gone off without a hitch, we would have loved it, we would have thought back on it fondly and agreed to go back there again one day. But this night, with all of its mishaps, was our most memorable Independence Day celebration.
The imperfections of the night made it memorable.
And from that memorable night, I’ve taken this –
Strive to do the best you can but keep it personal, keep it real. Make it memorable.
I’ve learned that ‘disasters’ make the best memories. We seldom remember the perfect performance as clearly as we remember the botched ones. Makes me think…memories are made of this.
Absolutely, memories are made of this. I know that we took many family vacations when I was a kid, but the one that stands out in vivid detail for me, is when we went to Hershey Park with my grandparents and there we were enjoying the atmosphere – all six of us – when the sky just opened up and the rain gushed down. We all ran for cover – as did everyone else. We were drenched and laughing hysterically because even if we had found cover, it would have been too late, the rain fell that hard. I still smile when I think of us running like loons when just seconds earlier we were trying to fan away the heat. 🙂 I have to wonder if I’d remember that trip as vividly if not for this.
A few years ago we went into Northport village to see the fireworks by the harbor. We got there early (something we never do) and found a great spot right in the adjacent parking lot. About halfway through the program the wind shifted and something went wrong with the setup — everybody ended up running frantically out of the lot as thick black smoke started choking us and bits of fireworks started raining down on everyone. What a crazy night. Now we find nice distant spots to watch from…Happy Fourth!
Oh no! How funny to have gotten their early for the perfect spot only to be smoked out! Thankfully it wasn’t worse (it could have been). I certainly don’t blame you for keeping your distance now – but what a memory. lol
I love this holiday and especially enjoy the firework display. I’m sure people who live near Disney are probably used to it every single night, but I’m happy to get the opportunity to witness the array of colorful lights twinkling in the sky. I hope you had a wonderful 4th, Debbie 🙂
Disney. When I grow up I’d like to retire there. 🙂 (though I’d probably be in bed by the time they start their fireworks. lol I did have a wonderful 4th, I hope you did as well, Tuere! btw – we watched last nights display on TV again. LOL!
Sounds like you still had a good time. Minor imperfections can give life to a situation.
I love fireworks and look forward to going to the beach and seeing the displays the average citizen is shooting off. Some quite spectacular and of course I have to ooh and clap while my daughter laughs at my reaction. She thinks it’s cute.
Hope you had a great 4th.
We did have a good time – and will always remember it because of the mishaps. And, as a writer, those mishaps are fodder for new stories. 🙂
I love that your daughter enjoys your reactions to the fireworks. I think mine would roll her eyes and say, “Mom, you’re embarrassing me.” lol.
Thanks for sharing, Deb. Your experiences are why my husband, on his rare holidays off, refuses to leave our backyard! He wants nothing more than a cold drink, family and perhaps a few friends, steak and salads, and tunes to make it a day.
I’m okay with that, just happy that we’re able to spend it together.
Happy belated Fourth!
Your husband’s idea of a relaxing day at home sounds wonderful. Happy belated 4th to you, too, Jolyse!