Monday, July 04, 2005

Happy Forth

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No matter what side of the political minefield that you play on, today is the day that we all need to be thankful that we live in the greatest country in the world. This evening we had yet another Forth of July Frick's World fireworks spectacular until the rain came. "Goose" wanted to read the directions on each and every firework that we lit. After the second reading of said label I'm like screw the label "Goose" you set it down, light it, kick it towards your brother and then run. Just kidding, these are safe fireworks, we bought them at Publix, where the raw chicken is probably more dangerous than those fireworks.
My history with fireworks is checkered at best. On my 12th or 13th birthday someone decided that it would be a good, no make that a great idea to give me fireworks as a gift. We packed up the car for our weekend journey to the North Georgia Mountains, where it had not rained for the last few months, in other words it was close Mohave Desert stage. My parents sent me over to the gravel road to light the roman candles out over the lake, figuring the flaming cannonballs would land in the lake. My parents plan was flawed from the get go because they failed to consider the "Frick Factor", how many 12 or 13 year olds would you trust with red hot flaming projectiles, here in lies the "Frick Factor". As I recall, and my memory could be failing, I grew rather bored with lighting the roman candles that were stuck in the ground so I started picking them up and shooting them out over the lake, this was keeping me entertained, so entertained that my mother probably yelled my name 7 or 8 times before I heard her (I guess she thought holding them in my hand was not the safest thing for a youngster of my caliber). Now most peoples normal and natural reaction is to turn to see who or what is requiring their immediate attention, which I did. Now most people are not holding a device which hurls flaming projectiles, which I was. I am not completely sure what transpired next but I do remember my Mom yelling something about no rain, forest fire, too young to die and then calling my father, I just do not recall the exact order in which these phrases were uttered. I do recall not being allowed anywhere near anything that had a flame until I moved out of the house.

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