I used to love lighting stuff off when I was a kid, but I haven’t lit a fuse in 30 years. I don’t mind the booms and flashes so much even when they wake me up (just not wired to care about it I guess), but I can’t bring myself to spend the money on fireworks. Every time one goes off I think to myself “$50”. I caught some drone footage of Denver taken on the evening of the 4th. It was nuts, nonstop illegal stuff for hours, all over the place, all kinds of neighborhoods–regardless of what the conspiratards say. Here in the suburbs it was the same if not even more intense.
Missus and I were both concerned with the amount of brazen illegal activity going on, seemingly without consequence (where does one draw the line?), but we were also quietly pleased that the community’s collective spirit was still intact even if our general sensibilities might be on extended leave. Mercifully there is no word of widespread “law enforcement” happening to the thousands of lawless perpetrators that evening, and only a handful of brushfires.
You know, it’s been a rough 6-42 months, especially the past few when folks have been losing their livelihoods to The Virus. An impromptu socially distanced party seems appropriate and encouraging. But then I got bummed, because instead of chanting “$50” to myself every time someone lit up the sky for a quarter second I started with “1 day’s groceries for a family of five”. Steam must be blown off, but where does one draw the line?
