Another Fourth of July has come and gone while we (Americans in general, New Yorkers in particular, everyone else along the way) end the celebrations we had today and look forward to those we’ll (hopefully) continue to have tomorrow. A sulfurous halo of light cloaks the skyline–a spontaneous rocket trail is seen here, a random burst heard there—as the day dwindles away and we make our way home. The various debris of jovial expositions, once colorfully gracing the sky or rattling the air, laid charred and unrecognizable fragments strewn along sidewalks and gutters. Such is the residual aftermath of our communities’ best laid plans after descending from their best planned celebrations. Park Slope, Brooklyn, brick-encrusted homestead of this distracted blogger and his wife, is no exception.
This year Steffie and I decided not to do anything special for the Fourth of July, desiring to spend the day in the tranquil elusiveness of our home; instead, we wound up amid the tranquil pandemonium of the Macys Fireworks Spectacular. It was like only yesterday (and, for all I know, maybe it was) on the occasion of last year’s Fourth that I began a post called Fragments of Fire and Water with the following:
Every 4th of July, my wife and I usually avoid the rockets’ red glare/ bombs bursting in air atmosphere of public festivities. We prefer to hide out in our apartment, modestly secluded within a quiet and remote Brooklyn neighborhood, and observe the holiday celebrations from afar on TV. However, this year we opted for something different and actually ventured into the great urban outdoors of New York City for Independence Day, with its crowds and noise and the aforementioned rockets and bombs.
Perhaps because we like history to repeat itself, and attempt to refashion it to jive with our plans, we again opted to stay at home…then opted to join the crowds in the great outdoors instead. We didn’t view them from the Circle Line as we did last year, but found our way to a spot along the West Side Highway. How we managed to squeeze into this celebratory outpouring of merrymakers is a long story, but we managed to do it…somehow. The dynamic configurations of fireworks are impossible to capture on a TV screen; of late, as when I was a kid watching them at Coney Island, I find myself preferring to view fireworks live and on location…staying home just didn’t seem cool, with a day as beautiful as this one turned out to be unlike the last Fourth of July.
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July 7th, 2009 - 2:54 pm
What a wonderful piece of New York you’ve shared. I’m savoring every bit of it.
July 7th, 2009 - 8:09 pm
Thanks, Suzann. As always, you’re too kind and too quick to savor my (as far as I’m concerned) erratic stream of consciousness that’s so erratically set down in print…but I won’t argue with you!!! Presumably my many readers (at least, according to my stats) are so busy savoring my wonderful words, (hence, wonderful pieces) they don’t have time to leave me a word of praise, criticism or condemnation. Ciao!