Memorial Daze

My block was a little universe for me. Not unlike so many streets in a community, each street had their own dramas, the best place to hang out, the right spot for punch ball and the correct telephone pole to count off for hide and seek. No matter what the age group were that you either aspired to, or properly belonged in, there was a true camaraderie when it came to holidays.  Whomever you did not play with, or family you generally had nothing to do with, were suddenly allies when it was a holiday. Everyone was a patriot and played nice.

To me, Memorial Day was such a sexy holiday.  It was the launch of the summer you'd been dreaming of all year. Anything could happen in summer. I always thought there was incredible promise leaving Spring and launching into the hot, long days and night to come. Of course, all too many of those summers were actually listless days and those sultry nights that I hoped would find me, were thick with humidity and little else.

I was barely twelve.

Is there an age when girls aren't dreaming of what will be? I don't think so. I watched a lot of old movies and wished there was a courtly boy that actually like me and wasn't just angling to get with my bust line.  Where was this prince coming from?  Not my street, but a girl could dream and with the summer stretching before her it seemed everything was possible.

The night before Memorial Day was just as exciting as the day itself. There were preparations for whatever guests were coming over, shopping, cooking and cleaning. That wasn't the thrill of course. It was after the tasks were completed and the last huge bag of charcoal was hoisted into the garage, with lighter fluid, that the magic web of summer was spun.

Lying in bed with the windows open, you could feel a cool breeze and hear the rumble of cars with radios blaring coming down the Avenue.  Then a stillness, and odd silence after the punctuation of car mufflers and gunning engines racing to the next red light.  You would wait for it. Wait for it, and then you would hear a single, distant POP.

I would wait a few moments with a catch in my breath for another, and when it came I would race to my window. Someone had fireworks, and that meant a real party.

I'd scan the sky for the tell tale lights that would scatter and drop like fallen daisy petals over the blocks surrounding my street. People always went to the nearby playground to set them off, but these were further away and higher in the sky. These were grown-up fireworks. 

It was rarely anyone on my block. There were punks, and sparklers for the kids. Some parents let you have real firecrackers, but if you were too young for matches you could crack them in half and make "Genies".  You simply broke the firecracker neatly, then made a small pile of the gun powder before laying the fuse in the middle. You could light this heap with your punk for a quick flash of smoke. 

Older kids had M-80s which were loud and violent. Those were generally placed under garbage cans for a hollow, echoing boom.  Cherry Bombs were stunning red and packed a punch when buried next to a tree, under the dirt with only the fuse peeking out. It was common for a kid to hide behind the tree, and reach around the trunk with a long punk to ignite the fuse.  The unlucky passerby coming along the sidewalk would jump up in the air, screaming at the thunderous noise and flying soil.  It was simply the thing to do.

No one ever lost and eye or a finger doing this.  In the evening, after dinner and before your guests left for the drive home, the lawn chairs would be dragged to the front of the house and people would gather on their stoops for the fireworks to come.

Even as you scanned the sky looking for the free show, you identified with those brilliant lights streaking across the night. I never felt more alone and never more attached to the excitement in the sky.  Solitary is not lonely. The way you wish upon a star, and hold a personal, magical moment to yourself is the way I would dream of my summer to come and the blaze above me.

Happy Memorial Day to you and yours. While I wonder what this year will bring for me, I wish you the hypnotic pause of a night sky and the hopeful dreams that a summer can bring.