fireworks

Me with a sparkler and a tiara (the latter on loan from my niece Brittany).
Photo by Jeff. (click image for larger version)


So we are now home, but just barely. A jammed parking brake when we loaded up to go home nearly stymied our plans for a Monday night return, but a nice man from Mazda fixed the problem with the aid of a blowtorch and a large hammer.

It was JBR's 67th birthday yesterday, and we celebrated the event as well as Victoria Day at my mom-in-law's place with a fine meal and fireworks. The whole Ridpath clan was there; Jeff and his brother Case were in charge of setting up the fireworks while the rest of us applauded and cheered and shivered, wrapped in blankets and fleece.

It brought back memories of when my father used to do a mini fireworks show when we kids were very young, back in the days when we lived on O'Connor Street in Toronto. My second-favorite firework was the burning schoolhouse, which was always the last one. I remember one year making little paper figures with smiling faces to stick in the schoolhouse before my father set it on fire. Sicko kid, I know.

My favorite was always the sparklers. Like regular fireworks, the magic of the display is extremely short-lived, but a sparkler was something I could hold in my hand. I also loved the after-image that sparklers made while you waved them around, in the darkness.

So I was secretly delighted when my nieces and nephew call out to me last night, asking if I wanted to light a sparkler with them. Ok, so maybe not so secretly. :-)

(This entry was written with ViaVoice, a voice recognition program, which sometimes has its own sense of humor. Please forgive any spelling or grammar quirks which Debbie has missed while editing. Thank you. )

May/2003 comments: Read | Post | LJ

My nephew Garrison, holding a sparkler last night.
(click image for larger version)