The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
-by Sherryanne De La Boise
Fireworks, Not Good For The Economy
In last week's Quill, David Knutstrom reportedly complained to the Stronghurst Trustees about fireworks. He forgot the point that most are manufactured in China. Not good for our economy.
The July fourth after the last of the troops had returned home from Vietnam, I had a date with a very handsome lieutenant, from a very good family. He was carrying my exquisite hand woven picnic basket containing the pie I had re-baked three times to get perfect, as well as cold fried chicken and potato salad made the old fashioned way with eggs, olives, celery and no mayonnaise.
Well, he dropped that basket!
Someone had set off a Cat-O-Nine tails. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang! His Vietnam training kicked in. He dropped my beautiful basket, grabbed my hand and pulled me with him as he rolled under a nearby parked car.
He should have wished the Vietcong had shot him after I got disentangled.
This was back when I would spend hours getting my hair and makeup just right. I now had a smear of road dirt added to my Lanc™me foundation. My hair was adorned with road gravel. My pantyhose were ripped. My patriotic outfit all asunder. How was I going to attend a public picnic area looking like we had already been at dessert?
But, being from a good family, the next day he brought me flowers and a new pair of panty hose. I should have known better. This was the same boy that had taken me to his prom and then griped to all my friends that I "had not kissed him "Good-night' after he had shown me a good time." By the time I found out, he had gone off to Yale University. I sent him a giant box filled with Hersey's kisses so he could never say again that he did not get a kiss from me.
It was bad enough for him to have swiped flowers from the cemetery. But, I wish he would have taken the card off, "I will treasure every moment we shared, missing you, until we meet again. Rest well."
And the panty hose, Instead of purchasing a pair, he swiped a new set from his mother's bureau. I knew, because this pair was for a woman 5'3" and I was his exact height, 5'10" There was only one solution: excuse myself and put them on. Came back out, with the waistband at mid-thigh and thanked him for replacing my hose with a pair of his mother's.
That was not my last encounter with him, but on the topic of too many fireworks, they are hard on so many of us. My village of 5,386 decided to launch them high into the air, so everyone could view them from their respective homes, cancelling the annual "July 4th Hometown County Fair,' where we have cook-offs, three legged races, and sing along with a Dad-band. The fireworks terrified the endangered Blue Heron, who spent the night on patrol, flying to and fro. The deer and coyotes were equally stressed. My new neighbor has parties every Saturday night that now include firecrackers. She does not get the concept that when you disturb the sleep of a creature, you put its' life in danger, for it is not able to return to sleep. That creature is now out and about when it should be resting and safe, increasing the chance of it coming to harm.
So, for the sake of wildlife, our trade imbalances and women who are dating guys with PTSD, please limit fireworks to one night per year.