THANKS TO ALL THE GOOD FATHERS ON 4TH OF JULY

Once upon a time,  most families were lucky if they owned one car. Many didn’t. There was no TV, so the only way you were going to see a big display of fireworks on the 4^th of July was if Dad drove you there.

Moms were mostly stay-at-home, and by evening,  they were washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen after the day’s picnic of fried chicken (no KFC then) potato salad, deviled eggs and chocolate cake. And no air conditioning.  So it was up to Dad to load up the kids in the car to see the fireworks, which were sponsored by the American Legion out  at the stadium

 Across the street lived a widow who didn’t own a car, so we always made a place for her daughter in ours, even though it meant doubling up, and sitting on each other’s laps in the back of the old Chevie (no seat belts in those days).  We might get to the stadium right before sunset, and wait impatiently for darkness to descend.  And then, wonder of wonders, that first brilliant expolsion of fireworks.  Breathlessly , we clapped and cheered as the rockets went off, and one after another colorful displays lit up the sky.   Dad loved the fireworks, too, but I think what he liked most was watching all the happy, awestruck children, and knowing that he had made this night possible by taking the time to drive us there.

When we got back home, way past our normal bedtime, my mother would have taken off her apron and fallen asleep on the couch, waiting to hear about what we’d seen.   We might have another piece of chocolate cake and a glass of milk before we finally went to bed and dreamed of fireworks.

Thanks to my beloved  Daddy, (long gone) ,  for those wonderful memories, and cheers to all of the other good fathers who take their  kids to see the fireworks on Independence Day.