Commentary
by Laurel Veit
Summer Forty-Niner
A burnt hot dog in one hand and a fiery
sparkler in the other — this is a fourth of July of the past.
Officially, the holiday is observed to
commemorate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776, however,
as a child, Independence Day meant so much more.
The celebration meant the middle of summer
vacation. It was when children could stay outside and ride their bicycles
until night time. They could wake up in the morning, throw on their bathing
suits and go swimming all day long or spend the day at the beach.
Fourth of July was the annual block party.
Neighbors would collect money and buy a night’s worth of fireworks. Everyone
would set up their barbecues in their front driveway and burn meat beyond
recognition, but somehow it did not matter because it was the Fourth. The
iced-tea was made by the gallon and people welcomed the 100 degree heat.
The make-shift volleyball court was erected in the middle of the street
and parents and children, alike, played the game until they were
adequately sunburned.
In the evening, the fathers would put on
the fireworks display. The Piccolo Petes gave off a high-pitched
whistle; bottle rockets shot across the street; pinwheels were nailed to
a tree; lit on fire and spun vibrant sparks into the night; black snakes
grew in the gutters; children ran around drawing images in the dark with
their sparklers.
Everyone watched with amazement.
The Fourth of July of the past was endless.
Now that the borrow-a-cup-of-sugar-from-your-neighbor
days are long over, and fireworks are illegal in many cities in the greater
Los Angeles area, sadly these Independence Day block parties are over.
But the memories will live on forever.
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