i don't particularly like the Fourth of July. I understand the political importance of being an independent country but I do not like celebrating that any one group of people is different [since most people think THEIR difference makes them somehow better] from the rest of the world. So I don't wave flags and I'm a grump about all kinds of patriotism.
But I love fireworks. I'm glad we have a holiday that we close with fireworks displays. I can see most of the town's fireworks, which are about a mile away over the harbor, over the tops of trees beyond my lawn. So I stood on the lawn barefoot, fending off mosquitoes and watching the bursts in the air of artfully constructed fireworks that sparkled in a great variety of ways and colors. They were glorious displays. I think fireworks remind us of archetypal satisfactions of sitting around fires way back when mankind first learned to make fire. Fire is fascinating in all its form [and terrifying in some of them]. Fireworks are our joyous use of fire, making it dance to our tune. Around the world people celebrate special events with fireworks with the same pleasure.
As I write about cairns and fireworks, I aware that my habit of thinking of the big picures the long time span seems like something that goes with aging. Only to a degre for me, I have always wanted to look at a large pictures, know the underlying meanings. Maybe most people feel this way but most don't voice it, that is a writer's job and possibly what made me write at all. I'll come back to that subject in the next post, I think.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!