You would think I would have more childhood memories of the fourth of July. I really don't have that many. I have general memory of sitting in a field, watching fireworks. I know we went sailing a lot on that weekend. I was always afraid of the firecrackers and loud explosions on the sidewalks. I remember ads on TV warning children about blasting caps (not fireworks) that could be found near constructions sites: DON'T TOUSSSH THEM, the man said in a funny accent. They showed children who were missing fingers. I think I equated those devices with fireworks.
One fourth of July I'll never forget is when Teresa and I took the bus up to Toronto when we were 17. Well, maybe it wasn't the fourth, but explosions were involved. We told our moms that we were going to go camping. The campground we had looked up turned out to be way far away from town, so we decided we could camp in a park downtown. We set up a little pup tent at dusk and lay down and went right to sleep, not a care in the world. Until a policeman with a flashlight woke us up, asking us if we were CRAZY to sleep in a public park in that dangerous neighborhood. He seemed surprised that we weren't already slaughtered in our sleeping bags. We wandered the streets for a long while, looking for shelter. Of course we had barely any money. We finally ended up down by the waterfront, not far from the expo grounds. There were some other people camping down there, and we were so exhausted we couldn't go any farther. We were both very scared by this time. I convinced Teresa that this was a safe, great place (all the time not believing it). We set up the tent and buried our heads under the pillows. She fell asleep, and I lay awake, terrified that at any minute someone would come up and shoot us. Sure enough, about a hour later, I heard gunshots. Teresa snored. The gunshots got louder and closer! Teresa lay silent. Had an errant bullet killed her dead?? I was in agony. Finally the blasts subsided, and she turned over and said, "I thought those fireworks would never end."
One fourth of July I'll never forget is when Teresa and I took the bus up to Toronto when we were 17. Well, maybe it wasn't the fourth, but explosions were involved. We told our moms that we were going to go camping. The campground we had looked up turned out to be way far away from town, so we decided we could camp in a park downtown. We set up a little pup tent at dusk and lay down and went right to sleep, not a care in the world. Until a policeman with a flashlight woke us up, asking us if we were CRAZY to sleep in a public park in that dangerous neighborhood. He seemed surprised that we weren't already slaughtered in our sleeping bags. We wandered the streets for a long while, looking for shelter. Of course we had barely any money. We finally ended up down by the waterfront, not far from the expo grounds. There were some other people camping down there, and we were so exhausted we couldn't go any farther. We were both very scared by this time. I convinced Teresa that this was a safe, great place (all the time not believing it). We set up the tent and buried our heads under the pillows. She fell asleep, and I lay awake, terrified that at any minute someone would come up and shoot us. Sure enough, about a hour later, I heard gunshots. Teresa snored. The gunshots got louder and closer! Teresa lay silent. Had an errant bullet killed her dead?? I was in agony. Finally the blasts subsided, and she turned over and said, "I thought those fireworks would never end."
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on Wednesday, July 03, 2002 at 10:03 AM.
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