Fireworks in the Household

When I was a kid, my parents told me to never set off a firecracker or it would blow my arm off. True. It happened to a boy they knew.

As a result, when my neighbor offered me a sparkler, I was convinced I would go up like a torch. No way was I touching that thing. :angry:

Now, as an adult, I’m still wary of fireworks. I’ve never bought any from a stand. Something about purchasing items that could potentially harm you doesn’t seem right.

I often wonder how fireworks became a tradition on the Fourth of July. Did one of the early forefathers say, “Gosh, George. Let’s celebrate this new country of ours and blow stuff up! It’ll be cool! Maybe we can get Thomas to light up one of those spare cannons and he’ll explode right in front of us!”

Who knows. But I know it was a tradition definitely created by men. Men love danger. They love fire and explosives and the element of–what if I blow my arm off? Women? If it were up to us, we’d probably celebrate the Fourth of July by waving our American Flags, enjoying chocolate without any guilt, and lazing around while the grandparents spoil the kids rotten. That’s my idea of a good holiday. Oh, and let someone else do the dishes. :rocker:

If you could celebrate a holiday any way you wanted, what would you do?