Some of my favorite summer memories are of the Fourth of July celebrations we’ve had over the years.
There were the fireworks at Brittlebank Park here in Charleston, before they moved it to Patriot’s Point. We’d get there early, before the sun went down, and spread our blanket out on the grass and just hang out and enjoy the cool breeze coming off the Ashley River. This was before the time of smart phones and everyone being connected via WiFi and Facebook and social media so we actually made friends with the people sitting next to us. There was always delicious food – hot dogs and soda and ice cream. And someone was always selling glow sticks that we begged for because apparently the fireworks weren’t enough.
There was the time we went into Philadelphia to watch the fireworks over the art museum. I don’t remember much about that time except for the fact that the crowds were ridiculously crazy and there was nowhere to sit so we stood most of the night and then piled our tired and sticky bodies into the van and sat for hours in traffic to get home. I missed the celebration in Charleston terribly that year.
We spent years after that going back to our high school because we definitely weren’t going to repeat the Philadelphia experience. We spread blankets on the same field where we used to run for gym and didn’t have to worry about making friends because all of the people we had walked those halls with were there with their families. We brought coolers and snuck cold beer into red solo cups and listened as the booms were punctuated by the patriotic music. I always got chills when they played “God Bless the USA” or the “1812 Overture” because those were always my favorites.
