red, white and bloom
There was a slow but steady wind blowing in across the bay. From I was on the top of the hill, I could see across the entire bay to the distant shores of Fife. The distant Fife coastline was gracefully illuminated by its fancy homes, quaint seaside restaurants, seedy biker bars and extravagant houseboats. Beyond the eastern shore of the bay, along the quickly darkening night sky are the silent mountains of the Cascades which are fading slowing into the night. It was indeed a great vantage point to see "splendor".
We all had gathered on a cliff that we all thought offered the most complete view. When I say, "we" I mean; me, my friend and a cast of dozens of immigrants from my neighborhood that aren't oompa loompas. They were Chinese, Russian, Polish, English, Mexican, Salvadoran, Canadian, North Dakotan and Japanese people, all of whom were gathered around this tiny cliff to see the heavenly lightly show which is supposed to represent American decadence and superiority. For many, I could tell this was going to be their first Fourth in America. Most of the onlookers couldn't even say, "firework" in it's proper American phonetic pronunciation as their native tongues didn't allow for the "r" sound or the "fff" or the "ire" or the "work" sounds. It was warming to the heart to see them trying.
Word on the street is that Tacoma supposedly offers the tenth largest fireworks display in the world. Having heard this, I decided to skip my traditional boycott and check it out. Some things just have to be experienced in life and I wasn't going to miss this because of my wacky little political beliefs.
I was surprised by the chill of the night. All day, the weather had been in the 80's but with the evening creeping in, the temperatures dropped into the mid-50's and a light jacket wasn't going to cut it. Everyone was freezing to death because they had been camping out since mid day when the weather was warmer and they had forgotten to bring their coats. Not that anyone would ever bring a coat to a Fourth of July fireworks display in the first place, but this is Washington state, we always wear coats here, regardless of the occasion.
I could tell that this evening was going to be a great Daniel Moment for the ages. (I have begun to call all my serendipitous, once in a lifetime, colorful moments; Daniel Moments. It just seems easier for me to remember them that way) I was so filled with excitement that I just couldn't contain myself. It was either that, or I was shivering because I was cold, I couldn't tell.
To the north of our show was the Seattle show, which would assume would be bigger and better than Tacoma's. Everything Tacoma often lives in the huge shadow cast by Seattle's presence, but not tonight. This was literally and figuratively Tacoma's night to shine. Screw Seattle and their soybean, recycled fireworks display. Here in Tacoma, our fireworks are made of baby seals, oil, freshly cut trees, conflict diamonds and carbohydrates. Cause we're 'Merican here - except for the foreigners that have gathered where I'm sitting. (no 'Mericans have accents)
9:45. All along the distant shore, dozens of smaller displays have started filling the night sky just above the water. The brilliance of the explosions is doubled with the reflections in the bay. From my vantage point I can see four miles of coast line and twenty miles of horizon. For every inch inside my vision, there is a new display to be seen. It's hard to keep up with all the explosions, but like an eager dog seeking the ball in my master's hand, I keep turning my head. None of the displays are coordinated with another so there is a new explosion every half second. It's beautiful, but hard to keep up with.
10:00. Seattle sends up its first volley in to the night sky and from where we are sitting, we can all see the whole thing. There is an odd hush to the crowd which could be disappointment that we aren't closer to the Seattle display or it could be the cold again, I don't know. Seattle's rockets are unleashing their colorful energy just above the tree line on the distant horizon, but you can tell from their width of the blast that it must be pretty magically to be witnessing it from up close.
Just a thumb's width above the Seattle show, the Gods added a little somethin'-somethin' to the night's activities. Thunderclouds, that are just high enough to catch the setting sun and are just the faintest color of orange, have come to life with dazzling dry lightning and low roaring thunder. For every rocket that dances across the sky, a bolt of lightning illuminates the clouds above it. For every man-made explosive boom, there is an equally impressive rumble of lightning.
10:10 Tacoma unloads its volley and sadly, where I am sitting with the foreign contingency, we can barely see the show. Our vision is partially blocked by a small knoll. We can't walk over to the knoll and watch from there as there is a Hitler youth security guard standing at the ready, and she is waiting for one of us to cross the line, so she can thump one of us with her billyclub and then mace us. Cause nothing says, "Happy birthday America!" like a good clubbing and macing of a foreigner that just wants to watch fireworks. (Don't think I didn't try to convince a few of them to try and test Ava's resolve.)
We watch what we can, but really the show is on the faces of the people watching. Fireworks are fireworks and in the past two thousand years there hasn't been much progress in the development of new types of fireworks. They go up, the explode, the make a loud bang and that's about it. Two thousand years of the same theme. China invented them when Jesus was walking around turning water into wine and ever since, America has been able to link both inventions into one memorable event.
10:30. The show is just getting warmed up, but I have to leave. I have a day job and I have to get out of bed at 5 AM so it's time to go so I can get some sleep. It's a slow and happy walk back to the perch and I went to sleep that night thinking of just how cool it was to watch the show with all those foreigners. What I have taken for granted for so many years, they really appreciated. The vantage point I had chosen was supposed to show me the tenth best fireworks show in America and it only gave me a 110th best viewing of the fireworks, but it was the single greatest pleasure to sit among these people and gawk like a child.
The next day, I crawled to work and was pleasantly surprised to learn that we would be spending the day at the nursery buying up the last of our plants for the job. I only have nine more weeks, and I doubt that in that time I will be able to finish a project to the point where I can justify coming back to the nursery again. Knowing this, I took special care to noticing and appreciating all of the flowers and plants. As tired as I was, the first thing I was able to notice was how similar all the plants and flowers looks in both color and shape to the fireworks against the night sky. I'm sure the Chinese had these flowers in mind when they invented their burning metal projectiles.
I wonder if how we spend our fourth says something about what kind of patriot we are. I guess my Fourth says that I belong around people that don't understand a word I'm saying, on a cliff overlooking a bay, watching Americans make fire in the sky while freezing to death in their lawn chairs on the ground.
We all had gathered on a cliff that we all thought offered the most complete view. When I say, "we" I mean; me, my friend and a cast of dozens of immigrants from my neighborhood that aren't oompa loompas. They were Chinese, Russian, Polish, English, Mexican, Salvadoran, Canadian, North Dakotan and Japanese people, all of whom were gathered around this tiny cliff to see the heavenly lightly show which is supposed to represent American decadence and superiority. For many, I could tell this was going to be their first Fourth in America. Most of the onlookers couldn't even say, "firework" in it's proper American phonetic pronunciation as their native tongues didn't allow for the "r" sound or the "fff" or the "ire" or the "work" sounds. It was warming to the heart to see them trying.
Word on the street is that Tacoma supposedly offers the tenth largest fireworks display in the world. Having heard this, I decided to skip my traditional boycott and check it out. Some things just have to be experienced in life and I wasn't going to miss this because of my wacky little political beliefs.
I was surprised by the chill of the night. All day, the weather had been in the 80's but with the evening creeping in, the temperatures dropped into the mid-50's and a light jacket wasn't going to cut it. Everyone was freezing to death because they had been camping out since mid day when the weather was warmer and they had forgotten to bring their coats. Not that anyone would ever bring a coat to a Fourth of July fireworks display in the first place, but this is Washington state, we always wear coats here, regardless of the occasion.
I could tell that this evening was going to be a great Daniel Moment for the ages. (I have begun to call all my serendipitous, once in a lifetime, colorful moments; Daniel Moments. It just seems easier for me to remember them that way) I was so filled with excitement that I just couldn't contain myself. It was either that, or I was shivering because I was cold, I couldn't tell.
To the north of our show was the Seattle show, which would assume would be bigger and better than Tacoma's. Everything Tacoma often lives in the huge shadow cast by Seattle's presence, but not tonight. This was literally and figuratively Tacoma's night to shine. Screw Seattle and their soybean, recycled fireworks display. Here in Tacoma, our fireworks are made of baby seals, oil, freshly cut trees, conflict diamonds and carbohydrates. Cause we're 'Merican here - except for the foreigners that have gathered where I'm sitting. (no 'Mericans have accents)
9:45. All along the distant shore, dozens of smaller displays have started filling the night sky just above the water. The brilliance of the explosions is doubled with the reflections in the bay. From my vantage point I can see four miles of coast line and twenty miles of horizon. For every inch inside my vision, there is a new display to be seen. It's hard to keep up with all the explosions, but like an eager dog seeking the ball in my master's hand, I keep turning my head. None of the displays are coordinated with another so there is a new explosion every half second. It's beautiful, but hard to keep up with.
10:00. Seattle sends up its first volley in to the night sky and from where we are sitting, we can all see the whole thing. There is an odd hush to the crowd which could be disappointment that we aren't closer to the Seattle display or it could be the cold again, I don't know. Seattle's rockets are unleashing their colorful energy just above the tree line on the distant horizon, but you can tell from their width of the blast that it must be pretty magically to be witnessing it from up close.
Just a thumb's width above the Seattle show, the Gods added a little somethin'-somethin' to the night's activities. Thunderclouds, that are just high enough to catch the setting sun and are just the faintest color of orange, have come to life with dazzling dry lightning and low roaring thunder. For every rocket that dances across the sky, a bolt of lightning illuminates the clouds above it. For every man-made explosive boom, there is an equally impressive rumble of lightning.
10:10 Tacoma unloads its volley and sadly, where I am sitting with the foreign contingency, we can barely see the show. Our vision is partially blocked by a small knoll. We can't walk over to the knoll and watch from there as there is a Hitler youth security guard standing at the ready, and she is waiting for one of us to cross the line, so she can thump one of us with her billyclub and then mace us. Cause nothing says, "Happy birthday America!" like a good clubbing and macing of a foreigner that just wants to watch fireworks. (Don't think I didn't try to convince a few of them to try and test Ava's resolve.)
We watch what we can, but really the show is on the faces of the people watching. Fireworks are fireworks and in the past two thousand years there hasn't been much progress in the development of new types of fireworks. They go up, the explode, the make a loud bang and that's about it. Two thousand years of the same theme. China invented them when Jesus was walking around turning water into wine and ever since, America has been able to link both inventions into one memorable event.
10:30. The show is just getting warmed up, but I have to leave. I have a day job and I have to get out of bed at 5 AM so it's time to go so I can get some sleep. It's a slow and happy walk back to the perch and I went to sleep that night thinking of just how cool it was to watch the show with all those foreigners. What I have taken for granted for so many years, they really appreciated. The vantage point I had chosen was supposed to show me the tenth best fireworks show in America and it only gave me a 110th best viewing of the fireworks, but it was the single greatest pleasure to sit among these people and gawk like a child.
The next day, I crawled to work and was pleasantly surprised to learn that we would be spending the day at the nursery buying up the last of our plants for the job. I only have nine more weeks, and I doubt that in that time I will be able to finish a project to the point where I can justify coming back to the nursery again. Knowing this, I took special care to noticing and appreciating all of the flowers and plants. As tired as I was, the first thing I was able to notice was how similar all the plants and flowers looks in both color and shape to the fireworks against the night sky. I'm sure the Chinese had these flowers in mind when they invented their burning metal projectiles.
I wonder if how we spend our fourth says something about what kind of patriot we are. I guess my Fourth says that I belong around people that don't understand a word I'm saying, on a cliff overlooking a bay, watching Americans make fire in the sky while freezing to death in their lawn chairs on the ground.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 9:04 PM
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