Okay so here is how not to do the 4th. Get wasted on the insistence of your new best officer friend, blend in with the family, forget about how much you had to drink, all without your own kids. (Which makes it a lot easier.)
Then find that when your kids come back today, after a productive day in the yard, that your kids want to go to the suburban fireworks scheduled for tonight! Sheet, man!
I left Willie Pete behind years ago, and have not been much inclined for concussive forces or white hot flames since.
When we were kids we used to take off the mailboxes that had two inch pipe for posts, and drop an M-80 down the shaft and put a rubber ball on the top. Made quite an accent. We were all future mortar men.
We also did model rockets as kids; that was good stuff!
Last night (this morning) when a string of firecrackers went off at 4:30AM, I got up to load up my Bill of Rights and go out to respond. But I couldn't find my blanks! (Usually, scares the shit out of 'em, because it is loud, and really clear what it is.) Oh, well!
