God bless America.

I have always loved fireworks. Not so much the sort one buys and tries to set off at home. Those are typically disappointing. I love the big city fireworks displays one might see on New Year's Eve or on the Fourth of July. In truth, I even got to claim some fireworks were being set off in honor of my birthday because the opening ceremonies of the Special Olympics often coincide with my special day. Many thanks to the Chinese.

As a child I remember waving sparklers and trying to write my name in the dark sky with the trail of light. I remember firecrackers and little black snakes that left dark marks on the pavement. I remember chasing the parachutes and even a junior high bottle rocket fight some town kids engaged in at Mitchell's that scared the bejeezus out of me.

Perhaps it's an American thing? This notion of associating fighting and fireworks? Our national anthem seems to sing of that very thing "And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there." Now, I realize they aren't talking about fireworks, but sometimes there is this spirit of battle, the riotous explosion, when fireworks go off. Maybe it's the sound. Maybe it's the fact that we are at war and in ten days one of my former students will be starting his 18 months in Iraq working as a gunner, sitting in a tank, exposed from the waist up as he travels daily with convoys. I am terrified for him. Wondering if we've had our last face-to-face conversation? Wondering if he'll survive this next year and a half. Knowing he'll be changed no matter what.

When I went with Pam to the fireworks store, I was prepared to load up on whatever little goodies I could find for my whopping ten dollar gift certificate. I was expecting to find cleverly named fireworks and I did find a few that made me smile: Pretty in Pink, Unexpected Pleasure, Pandora's Box, Happy fireworks. However, I was not prepared for this or this..... or this....

All of these fireworks, the names and concepts, seemed to be in such poor taste. I was horrified of the yet another, not even subtle way, our youth culture is being sucked into this desensitizing era of war, violence, hatred, revenge. Then I was struck, once again, at how this attitude reflects a side of American life that I ashamed of--the whole George Bush-Toby Keith-Kick some ass- mentality. If I never hear the phrase "evil doer" again, it will be too soon.