Sunday, Jul. 04, 2004
Dear Diary:

As the spousal unit told our friend and host after the fireworks, "It's always a good Canada Day when there's no casualties, eh."

I thought that last year's Canada Day highlight could not be topped. That would be the year that the 30-something son of our friend fired an enormous firework at a gigantic, diesel fuel-soaked pyramid of wood that refused to ignite and accept its fate as a bonfire.

The son's somewhat shaky reasoning was that if a propane torch couldn't get the job done, why not turn to a fiery explosive device? Said firework ricocheted off the pyramid and its flaming ball rocketed back at the man who had fired it. He just barely dove out of its path.

Every time I think of this and recall his face as he saw the blaze of the firework hurtling towards him, I crack up laughing. It's extremely funny, but only because he, and everyone around him, got out of it without a scratch. You want your big belly laughs, you go for the near death experiences, eh.

Well, this year, that same man and two cohorts were put in charge of the fireworks display after the communal Canada Day potluck we hold in our host's meadow. I suppose the reasoning here was that he had learned his lesson about how dangerous fireworks can be.

I noticed that all three of them had brought hard hats, which I thought was a good sign.

I know. I am stunningly na�ve for a woman in her 50's.

Every family that attends the Canada Day celebration at Sherman's brings an enormous dish of something yummy and several explosive devices.

We drive up a narrow, twisty road to one of his upper meadows on the side of a mountain above his home. We feast, wash it all back with tasty libations, sit around the bonfire as dusk turns to darkness and chat until it's time for the fireworks. Just before they begin, Richard pulls out his flute and the 60 or so of us sing "O Canada".

Oh, Canada. When Sherman began this tradition over 20 years ago, it was a very political act. Why? Because I live in the province of Quebec, a province which is just about evenly split about whether or not it should stay in the Canadian confederation. When Sherman began this celebration, Quebec nationalism was at its height. Canadian nationalism wasn't exactly encouraged in Quebec, and tempers ran high.

But he organized his celebration, which is now a ritual. Even today, when feelings about separating from Canada are not as fervent, Canada Day is still a "meh" sort of holiday in Quebec. The big holiday comes a week earlier, St. Jean Baptiste Day (John the Baptist Day), which celebrates the province's patron saint. Many Quebecois call St. Jean Baptiste Day the national holiday

But I digress. You don't need to understand Canadian politics.

Fireworks.

Near death experiences.

The sure and certain knowledge that some people will never learn from their mistakes.

These are things we can all share.

So where was I? Oh yes, the final bars of O Canada had faded into the warm summer night. The bonfire was an enormous circle of red hot coals at least two feet high. Kids were using 15 foot branches so they could get marshmallows close enough to the heat to roast them. Fireflies danced along the edge of the meadow. Stars filled the sky above our heads.

In the glow reflected from the bonfire, I could see three white hard hats bobbing towards the far side of the clearing where the fireworks had been set up.

The first ones went off spectacularly. We oohed, we ahhed. There's something magical about watching things rocket off into the night in flashes of colour and noise. Small children laughed and clapped. This year was going to be an especially big show. Sherman said over 60 pieces had been donated.

Things went well for the first third or so of it and then ... well, I'm not sure what happened but one of the rockets somehow tipped over and instead of shooting off into the sky it rocketed directly towards the area where the cars were parked.

We all let out a little gasp as the notion of a fireball striking a vehicle with a large tank of gas flashed across our collective consciousness. Somehow, it found its way between the vehicles and disappeared off into the woods.

Whew.

Fortunately, we've had weeks and weeks of rain. I so do not what to think about what might have happened if we'd had a tinder dry spring.

There was much hilarity as sarcastic quips were thrown towards the three rocketeers.

Now you might think that this experience would instill extra caution in the three men lighting the fireworks, but you would be so very, very wrong. Because shortly after they'd sent a fireball hurtling towards the parked vehicles, they managed to tip over yet another rocket, this one towards themselves.

Proving yet again that Darwinism is somewhat selective, none of them were hit.

At that point I moved my lawn chair so I was sitting behind the spousal unit.

Don't judge me.

Now you might think that having a firework actually head towards them would instill extra caution in the three men lighting the fireworks, but you would be so very, very wrong.

Shortly after they'd sent a fireball hurtling towards the parked vehicles, shortly after they managed to tip over yet another rocket, this one towards themselves, they tipped over a third rocket and managed to send that one about ten feet to the left of me directly towards a cluster of tiny children.

It skimmed over their heads. While their parents were almost fainting with terror, the children were chortling with delight, figuring this was part of the show.

I'm thinking my Canada Day experience may go a long ways towards explaining why they have such tight fireworks laws in other parts of the world. I'm also thinking it may be time to put the spousal unit's generation back in charge of the fireworks because clearly the 30-somethings are a bit unclear on the concept that dangerous explosive devices should be handled with care. This, though, is a matter for another time.

For now, we'll hold on to the good. And, I think we can all agree that yep, it's always a good Canada Day if there aren't any casualties.

--Marn

P.S.Carrie, who is logging books as well as cardio miles, pointed me towards a neat site where you can see what folks who write on-line are reading.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 535.56 miles. Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck. 25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers

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