Some of the best Fourth of July celebrations I can remember were when my dad was a member of the volunteer fire department. We would watch the parade, which was led by the Veterans of Foreign Wars color guard, followed by the mayor or other politicians, and included the parade of fire trucks.
The fire department would invite surrounding departments to send a rig, so consequently there might be 10 fire trucks, including our department’s chrome yellow rig. Firefighters’ kids would be plunked on top some of the fire trucks to throw candy, wave little flags and scream at friends over the sirens. Firefighters riding on the back step would watch out for the kids so they were OK. Other firefighters would squirt the crowds with water from the trucks to the delight of some parade watchers.
After the parade, everyone would head back to the fire station for hot dogs, homemade salads from the auxiliary and beer before the neighboring firefighters would return to their towns for their own parades.
At dusk, everyone would go to the park district to watch the fireworks display; a couple fire trucks would be on standby. While we waited for the show, children would light sparklers and wave them in circles or squiggly lines; a few daring boys would throw them into the air. Older boys would set off cherry bombs or sizzlers.
Those were the good-old days. None of the kids ever fell off the rigs, nor did the firefighters. Throwing candy still was allowed. The sirens didn’t make the kids deaf. The homemade salad didn’t give anyone salmonella, and the beer in the fire station was free. Nobody had enough calls to worry about taking a rig out of service to go to another town for a parade.
Ground displays at fireworks were close enough you could see the guys torching the tubes. Nobody cared how hot sparklers really were; if you did get burned, you must have been goofing around with it. And, ah, the sulphur-like smell of spent fireworks was fantastic.
How many of these memories are no longer appropriate or legal? Memories sure have a way of casting a haze over risks, that is, unless a risk comes to fruition.
When my daughter was an E.R. nurse, she always talked about writing a book called, At What Point Did You Think that was a Good Idea? Emergency medical teams see a lot of risks that end badly, and the Fourth of July is no exception.
Still, I never miss the start of a Fourth of July parade. Watching all the fire trucks gives me chills — even if I can’t ride on top.
Make it a safe, happy holiday.
July 3rd, 2008 @ 12:37 pm
Amen Janet,
Once again, you have hit the nail on the head. How many times growing up have we had our best memories of doing things that now would be considered as dangerous. Maybe we were wiser then or just not as worrisome over getting hurt. Or, maybe we were just a little more careful with the things that we did then.
Now we are concerned about doing something that our lawyers will get a closer look at and decide that maybe there is a dollar in it, so let’s start a legal action on them. Sorry state of affairs.
Memories are designed to stay with us throughout our lives and keep us sane in our old age. So, keep those memories in your brain and relive them every day to keep yourself young at heart and in an even course.
Be safe and Happy 4th
July 3rd, 2008 @ 3:40 pm
Talk about the good old days. How many of us remember the in the firehouse water fights flooded bays and diesel smoke so thick that it would choke out the engines because no body opened the bay doors! Or pointing the deck gun at the rear facing jump seat to drench the rookie. Falling off of the competition truck and splitting your head open on the flying solid brass straight tip nozzle. Yes those are great memorys for some of us.
July 3rd, 2008 @ 4:57 pm
Janet,
I remember those days very well. The only difference was I was raised in the town of Wilmington (just south of you) and everyone went to the North Island on the Kankakee River to have an all day fish fry and beer party. At the end of the night, the fire department lit the fireworks, and a bunch of them would walk the crowd handing out sparklers to the kids. I miss those days, and probably always will.
I do have to admit I was one of those mean children that always got involved in bottle rocket wars with other kids. Another not so smart move, especially when my father caught us! I used to love when friends and I would go out on boats (or inner tubes) floating the river to watch the fireworks being set off. As a kid it was amazing to me that the volunteer department did so much for our community, and part of the big reason I became a firefighter.
I also remember being the recipient of special haircut from Ray’s Barber Shop. Ray had the only barbershop in town, and everyone knew he was a volunteer firefighter. The back door of his barbershop was 100 feet from the fire station, and if the siren went off, it didn’t matter what part of the haircut you were in, you were waiting until he came back for it to be finished. If you had to leave, and you were the last person to leave, you locked the door for him. I for one seemed to get caught in the barber chair with half of a haircut (when the siren went off) at least four times per year, but I digress.
Two years ago, I was back in Wilmington for Catfish Days. I was amazed that the volunteer department was still inviting departments from all around to have firefighter competitions on Main Street. As far as I know this has been a tradition for at least 45 years (since I was a youngster). I watched as the fire department provided staff almost constantly throughout the entire weekend to assist with just about everything that went on during Catfish Days. I sat and remembered how these types of dedication to community inspired me to get into the profession, and I began thinking of all of the great men and woman that set the sparkling (living) example of which inspired me to become a firefighter.
While many things have changed, many things remained the same. I worry about our frivolous litigious society that we now live in. Next thing you know, someone will suing a shoe manufacturer for hangnail, … Mark
Mark S. Warnick
July 4th, 2008 @ 10:28 am
…what they said, Janet. It’s truly a shame that our world has come to this, but I suppose it’s what you have to expect when you have the freedoms which we enjoy in this country. And to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t give them up for anything! As someone else once said, “America isn’t perfect, but it sure beats whatever’s in second place”! I couldn’t agree more!
Mike
P.S. Encourage your daughter to write her book…I know it’d be a best-seller!
July 7th, 2008 @ 9:48 am
I remember growing up in Wickliffe, Ohio back in the 50’s and 60’s. When the fire siren rang I would run to the station and if I was fast enough I could ride with the firefighters to the fire. If it was a grass fire they even let use the Indian spray can or a broom to put out the fire.
My guess is there were no lawyers back then. I have owned several antique fire trucks. My best memory is giving all the kids a ride to the Tasty Freeze after the ball game, whether they won or not.
And the most important thing in life is never to grow up. That is why I am a volunteer firefighter.
July 8th, 2008 @ 6:05 am
I just returned from a weekend trip to a small town in New England. Fourth of July there was just as you described it! This is the true essence of Small Town America that a lot of us have had stolen from us and unfortunately our kids and grandchildren may never know. I won’t divulge the state or town so the legal vultures do not descend on it.