Grilling at the beach

It's the Fourth of July, so we must obey the traditions.

I listened to Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers sing one of my favorite songs of his, "Fourth of July."  I do love that one.

We grilled burgers and dogs because, America.  Being at the beach, though, I had to resort to charcoal.

Click an image to see a larger version.

I might have over-filled the Weber with charcoal because, damn, it was hot, hot enough to take off hand hair.

The burgers just fit

and turned out delicious but with a bit too much carbon; that was totally my fault. Yeah, that's 18 burgers on that grill.

Later, Kyle split a hot dog and added pimento cheese and bacon.

Oh, heck, yeah, that looked good.

Some even went to the grill much later and made s'mores.

I did not, but they're not a dessert I enjoy. Others did seem to like them.

On a serious note, our country is the most divided it's been in my life. Each side in the great political debate spends all of its time attacking the other side and nearly none of its time listening to those other viewpoints. This saddens me, because down this road, nothing good happens.

So, my wish for our country on its birthday is that we all pause to realize that we have more in common than not, that we are all Americans, and that if we can all come together to find solutions to our toughest problems, we can indeed remain a nation united.

Want to see some great shots of the fireworks show from yesterday's annual Fourth of July party?

Sure you do, and you should.  The show was awesome.  Fortunately, my friend, Warren, was on hand to shoot some amazing pictures, and you can now see them on his Flickr account.  Enjoy!

On this Fourth of July

about a hundred of us gathered in the country at Dave's house, ate, talked, and watched (or, in my case, helped put on) a lovely fireworks show.

It was a good, if hot and tiring day.

I hope your Independence Day was equally good.

Happy Independence Day!

For the first time in many, many years, we did not hold our annual fireworks show.  I hope we can resume it soon, but this year it just wasn't workable. 

Instead, a few folks ate burgers and dogs over here, and we kept it low-key.

I try always on this day to think about what it meant to those who wrote the Declaration of Independence.  I often come down to this line and all that they truly were putting on the line:

...we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

How rarely these days do I hear anyone talk about honor, sacred or otherwise.  I find that sad.

My mom taught me to believe in it, to believe in the power of a handshake, to believe that pledges mean something.  So I also always think of her on this day, and I miss her, and I silently thank her yet again for all that she did for me.

I hope your Fourth has been great.

Painting the sky

For the Fourth of July each year, a large group of us gather at Dave's, socialize, eat burgers and hot dogs and dishes that people bring, and then we launch fireworks.  Only about a dozen of us actually work on the fireworks show; the rest of the crowd watch and often cheer.  I've written many times before about what it's like to stand under the fireworks and stare upward as they paint the sky, so I won't repeat most of those ramblings here.  What struck me so powerfully again tonight was how much I love this show and how quickly it ends.  I know from observers that the show ran between 20 and 25 minutes, but to those of us doing the lighting, it felt more like five.  Being under the fireworks, standing among the explosions, is so intense, so completely consuming, that time just races away.

I love it.

I'm glad the audience likes the show, but I'd want to do it even if the only people there were the members of the launch team.

Nothing else is quite like it.

I am at the beach

No place is as sure to make me happy as here.  I am so very glad to be here.

I'll write more tomorrow, but for now, I will leave you with two more pictures from the fireworks show, this time courtesy of Derwood.  As always, click on a picture to see a larger image.

The sky screamed with light

It did, it really did.  I stood under it and screamed in joy. 

Gina's pictures freeze moments in silent time.  Enjoy--and click on any that you particularly like to see a much larger version.

What we were, what we could be

We all know these words.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

We also know that this is all fine and good unless in the course of your pursuit of happiness you feel the urge to marry someone of the same gender, or to have a group marriage.  No, those pursuits, so many of our states have have decided, are off limits. 

I understand and respect the need for limits. Those whose happiness comes from killing others, to pick but one extreme example, most certainly need limits, and it is society's job to place and enforce those limits.  That job, though, is necessary only when the acts of one person hurt others.

Whom does it hurt for two men to marry?  Two women?  Five people of whatever gender? 

If you want to make the discussion economic--think of the impact on small businesses!--fine, we can talk about that.  We can work that problem. 

In the end, though, the stupid limits, the laws like my own state's recent amendment, don't pass for rational reasons. They pass because people are afraid that letting others pursue their happiness by marrying differently will in some way hurt them or undermine the institution of marriage. 

It's nonsense, and I'm embarrassed of my state for embracing it.

On a day I love, the Fourth of July, I want to be proud of my country.  I want to be proud of my state. 

What I don't want is to have to meet a young gay man at a party--at my party--and know that he has to leave this state if he wants to marry his lover, yet that is exactly what I did today. I hate that.  I rage against it.  We all should. 

And then the sky exploded

The Fourth of July party we hold each year at the Drake's represents a huge amount of work by a great many people, including me. It's also rather expensive: my share of the fireworks plus all the cost of the hamburgers, hot dogs, and buns for 120 people add up to a tidy sum. Jo Drake does a ferocious amount of prep and hosting work, many of those 120 people bring dishes they've made, a team of a dozen people work hard and fast and well on the fireworks show itself, and I both work on that team and spend a lot of time (almost an hour and a half last night) in front of a huge grill (really a pig cooker) that's running close to 500 degrees inside.

I often question if the party is worth the work.

I was doing that in the days leading up to the party, again at the party as my core temperature stayed unusually high after the grilling, and yet again as the rain was falling and everyone was wondering if we'd be able to launch the show. The rain did stop. We set up the show, prepped the crowd, took our places, lit fuses...

...and then the sky exploded.

Blues and whites and golds, greens and purples and reds, starbursts and circles and palms, booms and whistles and screeches, and there I was, standing under it all, eyes to the heavens, every sense filled, screaming wordlessly in the pure joy of the magnificent explosions.

That's when I know it's worth it.

Happy Independence Day!

For those of us here in the U.S., today is a big day, the anniversary of Congress' official acceptance of the declaration of our country's independence. I'll be celebrating it in our traditional way: with a party I co-host at the Drake's.

The affair looks to be large this year--about 120 folks--so I'll be spending a lot of time working the grill. The grill is actually a very large pig cooker, on which I'll be putting over fire about 94 hamburgers, the same number of hot dogs, and 24 veggie burgers. Later in the day, I'll be working with a team of friends to put on a fireworks show. A busy day and an expensive one, but a fun one as well.

On this day, I always make time to sit alone and think briefly about what it must have been like to write this declaration, and what the declaration means to me. This year, for various reasons I've been thinking about the last line:

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

I have never been in the military--I was lucky enough to have the draft end not long before I would have had to report--but it has always struck me that those who have served have made this pledge more directly than the rest of us.

My stepfather, Ed, volunteered for World War II. That war cost him his teeth, two major wounds, shrapnel that stayed in him until he died, and dreams that cut him worse than the shrapnel.

My friend, Dave, came home from Viet Nam to a U.S. that treated him like dirt for doing what he believed to be a citizen's duty. He didn't consider Viet Nam a good idea, nor did I. He was drafted, and he served. He paid for that choice then, and he's still paying for it. He'll be paying for it until he the day he dies.

I'm very sorry that so many people were so horrible to him and to other Americans returning from that war.

I'm glad we're not treating our soldiers today the same way. Perhaps on this special day we could resolve never again to treat returning soldiers the way so many treated Dave. Such a resolution would not help him, but it would be good for those who in the future end up pledging their lives to serve this country.

Those Fourth of July pictures I've been promising

are now available here. My thanks to Gina for supplying them.

Still photos can never even come close to capturing all that happens during a fireworks show; for that matter, video can't, either. The experience of being right there with the fireworks and the noise is something qualitatively different. That said, Gina's pictures are lovely and provide a sense of some of the individual rounds and a few of the more complex groupings that we fired into the heavens that beautiful Sunday evening.

The day after the day after

was, as Dave noted when he sent me this photo, rather impressive in its own right. Parts of the ash pile were still glowing hot.



As I trust is obvious, the show and the party are a great deal of work for me--and for a lot of other folks. It's also expensive: my share of the fireworks plus various party foods (e.g., hot dogs and hamburgers for a hundred people) and supplies runs about $1.5K. Many folks who are aware of these facts have asked me why I keep doing it.

The short and easy answer is that it's awesome and it's clearly worth what it costs me.

The longer version sounds dopey, but I'll tell you anyway: it touches my heart profoundly and in many ways at once.

I scream with primal release during some of the rounds. I smile and laugh with joy during others.

My world reduces to the glorious, exploding sky.

I paint the sky and my art--the art of all of us in the field--blazes and shrieks and stuns dozens and dozens of friends.

Time compresses amazingly; forty minutes in the real world feels like ten when you're out there under the fireworks.

The danger rush is always present at a cellular level; even though your brain knows you're doing everything safely, your body is convinced you're at severe risk.

I could stand under those shooting stars all night long.

Some Fourth pictures

As many of you pointed out, the link I posted did not work. It appears that Kodak's gallery, which Gina uses for her photos online, does not want to let her share those pictures with the world. So, while she looks around for another Web-based home for her lovely photographs, I thought I'd pass on a few that are available now.

Almost all come courtesy of Steve, who posted over a dozen on a Flickr page. Check them out here.

The exception is this lovely day-after photo, which Dave supplied.



Dave sets up the launch area before we arrive, which is a nice treat. A far bigger treat, however, is the work he does after every show: he hauls in the tarps and launch pallets, polices the area, and then burns the trash. As you can probably tell from this picture, the burn pile is impressive.

I'm already looking forward to next year's show!

Blowing up 1,300 pounds of fireworks

is an insane amount of fun, but it's also a great deal of work--at least to do safely and in a choreographed manner, as we did. (Pouring gas on them and dropping one match would also yield a cool result, but a differently cool one. We'll stick with what we're doing now.) Our annual Fourth of July party was the biggest ever, with well over a hundred people coming for the food and many more arriving just for the show.

I've written before in this blog about how amazing it is to stand under the fireworks and watch them soar and explode over your head, so I won't go into it much this evening, but I must note this: It is one of the most primal, joy-filled experiences I have each year. I believe most, if not all, of the others on the launch team feel the same way.

Gina was gracious enough to assemble a photo album of some of her shots of the show. Though I can barely stand to look at my fat, old self, the pictures without me are so good that I have to pass it to you all. CORRECTION: I had a link here, but it was to a Kodak photo-sharing site, and we could never make it work. Sorry.
The show lasted about forty minutes. Out in the field, in the noise and the color and the world exploding overhead, it felt like ten. Magic, sheer magic. I wish you all could have been there.

How big explosions begin

This full, wrapped pallet, which stands over seven feet tall and weighs over a thousand pounds, is most--but not all--of the fireworks that we will blow up on the Fourth of July. We're talking more than half a ton of colorful, explosive goodness. Twenty-eight boxes (twenty-four here, four that came loose) crammed full of fireworks. Over 90 devices--not counting the small stuff we'll light to explain fireworks safety to the kids and to warn the crowd that we're starting. With them, the count is right around a hundred.

Oh, hell, yeah: we are serious about our fireworks.

The first step in creating the show occurred a while ago, when we ordered the 'works. Today marked the second milestone, as they arrived and we moved them inside.

I'm already excited about doing the show.

If you live in this area and are interested in attending our giant Fourth party, drop me a line (there's a contact form on my Web site), and we can probably work it out.

It'll be a (literal) blast!

Four weeks from right now

I will be getting out of the shower after having scrubbed all the gunpowder residue from my skin. No, I won't have committed a crime or gone to war; I'll have helped launch the better part of a ton of fireworks into the sky for our annual Fourth of July celebration.

If you live in this area, or if you plan to be here that Sunday, drop me a line via the form on the site, and we can probably arrange for you to be at the party. For this particular event, the general rule is, the more, the merrier. It's a potluck affair, so everyone brings something to share, and I provide burgers and hot dogs for all. (Usually, that means standing over a hot cooker for about 75 minutes grilling about a hundred of each.) Dave and Jo host the party, Jo does Herculean work prepping and co-hosting, Dave performs similar labors the next day cleaning up, and many other folks work very hard to pull off what is always a great event.

I find fireworks magical at all times, but watching a fireworks show, as great as that is, is nothing to standing underneath them, having set them off, as they streak into the sky and explode all around you. It's an amazing rush.

As you can tell, I'm already looking forward to it.

More on the Fourth

A few folks have been kind enough to share some of their photos of yesterday's fireworks party.



Steve Burnett sent me copies of these three photos, which nicely capture some of the fireworks in the sky and, in the last picture, from the ground view.






































Dave, who also does the thankless job of cleaning up after the show, donated this shot of the assembled wreckage; the chair provides a sense of scale.
















Finally, for a collection of lovely photos by Paul Cory, check out his flickr page for the party (a link he also provided in a comment to yesterday's entry). From some of Paul's pictures I think you can get a reasonable sense of the scale of the show.

It was awesome, and I thank these folks for capturing images of parts of it.

An excellent show indeed!

I love the Fourth of July. I love celebrating our nation's independence, and I love thinking about the people who set on course what I still believe is the greatest nation in the world.

And, of course, I love blowing up a lot of fireworks.

We gathered at the Drake's, where we always hold our party. Step 1 was unloading all the fireworks from the deathmobile; as you can see here, Kyle and I did indeed survive the ride, and so did the many boxes of 'works.

After helping with party setup, we all then sat about, chatted, drank, sampled various tasty foods, and generally took it easy until it was time to grill the meat.

For a party with about a hundred people, we grill a lot of food: about 84 hamburgers, 72 hot dogs, and 12 veggie burgers. We used to do it on my household grill, but it was really inadequate to the task.

A neighbor of Dave's saved us a huge amount of time and hot, sweaty work by loaning us a very large cooker, which we now use. Having this enormous cooking surface makes it possible for us to grill all the food in about an hour. The photo here shows but one of several times we fully loaded the grill.

By the way, Kyle and I had the best burgers of all: double cheeseburgers fresh from the grill. Wow, were they good!

After a little rest, we did show prep, then waited, lit sparklers, and finally it was dark enough for the show itself. I have no photos to share--I'm hoping someone there will email me a few--but from my vantage point directly under the fireworks it was awesome and primal and amazing and wonderful and worth every cent.

I am always amazed that anyone who sees this show does not beg to join the launch team, but I guess most people are considerably smarter more sane more reserved than I--and that's a good thing, because without them, we'd have no audience.

I hope your holiday was every bit as good.

If you hear about a minivan blowing up,

it's probably Kyle and me (in which case I wouldn't expect any more blog posts).

All the fireworks in the previous entry, roughly a thousand pounds of them, are now packed in our minivan. (I can't see out the rear window, and the vehicle is riding low on its shocks, but the 'works are all inside.) In addition, in the same van are three plastic bins of related supplies, such as safety glasses, flashlights, and, yes, lighters and matches. Oh, yeah: We're also carrying two bags of sparklers and small fountains.

Kyle and I will be driving said deathmobile to Dave and Jo's tomorrow (Saturday) for the fireworks show. I expect to make it safely; we've done so for many years.

If we do explode, however, it will have to go down as one of the more colorful auto accidents of all time.

Kinda makes the drive more exciting, doesn't it?

Wish us well.

Ever wondered

what two grand of highly explosive fireworks would look like, should it come squatting on your walkway?

Wonder no more. It would look about like this:

Jesse and Jennie are, in my admittedly rather out-of-focus photo, standing both to provide a sense of scale and because they wanted a last photo in case in the course of transporting the 'works into Jennie's house we all went up in a huge and colorful smoke cloud.

Fortunately, we did not.

The pallet is deeper than it is wide, by the way.







Speaking of moving the fireworks, here's what they look like resting in Jennie's library--the very things everyone wants near their books!

The intrepid Maggie, aka Doodle, provides a different sort of scale as she rests atop Mt. Spazzatron (yes, that is the real name of one of the fireworks) after an arduous hike through the carboard mountains. Respect and fear the Doodle, for she is heavily armed and unafraid.

In just two short days, we will in the space of one hour turn the contents of all of these boxes into beautiful screaming shapes in the night--and then into one very large pile of trash for Dave to burn.

I am, as I've said, quite looking forward to it.