I meant to write about this around the 4th of July. It is now August, and I haven't gotten around to it. But better late than never, right?
We spent the 4th of July at my parent's lake house in Wisconsin. Which was awesome and relaxing and beautiful. And then we celebrated the 4th by watching the neighbor shoot off fireworks across the lake. These are some pretty serious fireworks - these people aren't just shooting off bottle-rockets and calling it a night. They're probably spending thousands of dollars on fireworks, and we enjoyed them from the pier for free. Ah, America.
Anyway, it always gets me thinking. What in the world is with this obsession of fireworks on the 4th of July? Where does it come from? Why do we do it? It also makes me stop and pause for all of those people who have fought or lived through a war. This must be the worst time of year for some people. I honestly don't think there's anywhere in America you can go to avoid fireworks around the 4th. I wish we had firework-free zones for those who choose to not participate for whatever reason.
Ok, so after a bit of research online (so it must be true), it appears fireworks originated in China (or maybe India) in the 7th century. That's a long time ago. So we've been fascinated with colored fire for a long ass time. Also, apparently, our obsession in America started with John Adams in the late 1700s, who suggested we celebrate with colored fire as well.
But what kills me is not the sound, sight, or light of these fireworks. It's the MONEY. Imagine how many thousands (millions?) of dollars are spent every year on fireworks in this country. I understand that someone is making them and selling them and making money from this venture, but think about what else we could be spending this money on instead? We could hire more teachers or social workers in our schools that need them. We could put money towards healthcare for those who are underinsured. We could put it almost anywhere except for 20 minutes of staring at the sky watching things explode. I'm just sayin'.
I remember coming home from Peace Corps in 2006 and feeling this way. I left my job at Hefner's Frozen Custard and met up with my family at the fireworks in Cedarburg. I couldn't find them since I was a bit late, and the fireworks had already started. I just sort of sat there by myself, in total awe of the kinds of things that we think are important in life. I had just left a country where people couldn't get medication to stay alive, and here we are blowing up things and spending money like it's going out of style. It was hard to swallow.
But alas, the older I get...something changes. I'm trying to remind myself of my youth and idealism. I'm trying to remember what the rest of the world is like, and I want to make sure that Violet grows up learning about the world from this perspective. Not that we should always feel guilty, but that we should be self-aware and make informed decisions about the way we want to live our lives. I'm choosing to live my life remembering what life is like for others. So I guess that's why I wrote an entire blog post about fireworks.
We spent the 4th of July at my parent's lake house in Wisconsin. Which was awesome and relaxing and beautiful. And then we celebrated the 4th by watching the neighbor shoot off fireworks across the lake. These are some pretty serious fireworks - these people aren't just shooting off bottle-rockets and calling it a night. They're probably spending thousands of dollars on fireworks, and we enjoyed them from the pier for free. Ah, America.
Anyway, it always gets me thinking. What in the world is with this obsession of fireworks on the 4th of July? Where does it come from? Why do we do it? It also makes me stop and pause for all of those people who have fought or lived through a war. This must be the worst time of year for some people. I honestly don't think there's anywhere in America you can go to avoid fireworks around the 4th. I wish we had firework-free zones for those who choose to not participate for whatever reason.
Ok, so after a bit of research online (so it must be true), it appears fireworks originated in China (or maybe India) in the 7th century. That's a long time ago. So we've been fascinated with colored fire for a long ass time. Also, apparently, our obsession in America started with John Adams in the late 1700s, who suggested we celebrate with colored fire as well.
But what kills me is not the sound, sight, or light of these fireworks. It's the MONEY. Imagine how many thousands (millions?) of dollars are spent every year on fireworks in this country. I understand that someone is making them and selling them and making money from this venture, but think about what else we could be spending this money on instead? We could hire more teachers or social workers in our schools that need them. We could put money towards healthcare for those who are underinsured. We could put it almost anywhere except for 20 minutes of staring at the sky watching things explode. I'm just sayin'.
I remember coming home from Peace Corps in 2006 and feeling this way. I left my job at Hefner's Frozen Custard and met up with my family at the fireworks in Cedarburg. I couldn't find them since I was a bit late, and the fireworks had already started. I just sort of sat there by myself, in total awe of the kinds of things that we think are important in life. I had just left a country where people couldn't get medication to stay alive, and here we are blowing up things and spending money like it's going out of style. It was hard to swallow.
But alas, the older I get...something changes. I'm trying to remind myself of my youth and idealism. I'm trying to remember what the rest of the world is like, and I want to make sure that Violet grows up learning about the world from this perspective. Not that we should always feel guilty, but that we should be self-aware and make informed decisions about the way we want to live our lives. I'm choosing to live my life remembering what life is like for others. So I guess that's why I wrote an entire blog post about fireworks.
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