My daughter was born in 1976, the 200th anniversary of our country. The first two weeks of her life seemed to be spent crying, crying, not sleeping. I felt as though I never slept either. So on the first July 4th of her new life we went to see the fireworks as we had done each year since we moved to Connecticut. We lived in a very nice town, to say the least. The fireworks were held at the high school and we always looked forward to a great show!
We walked to the field with our new baby girl in our arms, wondering if she would be frightened by all the noise. We needn't have worried. She slept through the entire show, with flashes and loud noises all around her. It was probably the first time she had slept for such a long time since she was born.
Each year thereafter, we would bring the children to the fireworks. Some years they would be frightened, some years they would be awed. In the morning we would go to the parade, a perfect small town parade with kids, firetrucks, girl scouts, town officials, even garbage trucks. Then my husband would run in the 4th of July run and we'd go and find a good place to cheer him on as he ran by.
As the years went on and the children grew older, the parade seemed smaller, less fun, fewer participants, but we still went. It was a tradition.
Usually there was also a concert on the Green that weekend. I participated in a few of those concerts as a member of the wonderful Choral Society while the family had a picnic dinner with friends.
I remember these days and miss them now. So, if you have small children, take them to the local town parade and fireworks show today and cherish it all.
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