Fireworks!

Wishing all Treepers a glorious July 4th this year!
We have to have fireworks for July 4th. No fireworks would be like a birthday without a cake or Christmas without Santa. Yes, backyard fireworks are mandatory for our Nation’s Birthday.

Because we lived “in town” but had a field out back which is about 3-4 acres, we had a perfect gathering spot for our group of friends. Our house is fairly close to the street, but the field “out back” is enclosed by trees and high shrubs. The “near back”, on the east side, has an 8′ tall brick garden which gives the illusion of an end to the property. On the west side was an old chicken coop. Through the middle is enough of an opening to drive a truck into the back field. The school wraps around the property and very few people know the field is there.
The field has served as our go-cart track, football field, slip and slide, water park, Daughn’s grand pool/kitchen/garage/cabana/loveshack/arbor/spa project, and yes, our firework launch pad. Through the years, the guys built steel pipe launchers for mortar shells, screwed to 8’x4′ plywood for pads. One staff member surprised me with a waist high aluminum pipe “fan” which spreads out about 4′ and launches 8 rockets at a time. Yeah, we’re firework lovers.
And you know me, I always look for the best deal. Wholesale not retail. Because the party was always at our house, I ended up spending the most on fireworks. It was getting expensive. I needed a bigger “bang” for my buck and looked for options.
One day, the kids were whining/moaning/bickering over spring break with “nothing” to do. Intervention was necessary. ROAD TRIP! A girlfriend and I made a few ham sandwiches, packed a cooler, and loaded our kids into the minivan. We took off for Sikeston, MO, and BOOMLAND, which started as a truck stop and grew into a fabulous firework store. Three+ hours later, we had lunch at the “Home of Throwed Rolls” and got down to business for fireworks. Each kid had a budget of what they could spend, cash in hand (not much), but I had the checkbook. Firework guy was happy to see us …. cuz no one buys fireworks in March. We bought “off season” and drove back to Mississippi happy as heck.
Another year, we drove to Illinois to visit Aunt Helen for Thanksgiving. Sikeston is on the way. Gunner, about 6yrs old, was elated we would stop at Boomland, but disappointed when we told him we could not buy them until the return trip. It made no sense to drive the car for the next 7 days with hundreds of dollars of fireworks visible. We decided to wait until the return trip to stock up on fireworks.
Well, Gunner waited and waited. He survived the pinched cheeks from elderly aunts and dutifully ate jello salads for Thanksgiving. He was anxious, ready to go home early from Aunt Helen’s, just so he could get to Boomland. Yet, after the aunts and uncles, we stopped for a few “museum” days in Chicago, before we turned for home. Seven hours at 65mph through Illinois to the Missouri border was terminally slow with an excess of holiday traffic. Gunner moaned in the back seat, counting mile markers, waving at truck drivers. By the time we arrived in Sikeston, it was well past dark. Gunner was out of the car like a shot………. but the firework store was closed. We were too late.
His whole little body hurt at the same time, and he fought the tears. He was so disappointed. After waiting for 7 days, he missed his Santa Claus.
We drove across the big parking lot to the “store” portion of the truck stop, for Big T to refuel, and get a snack for the remainder of the drive home. I hit the aisle for Bugles, my all-time favorite road food, but Gunner wanted a meat/cheese/crackers Lunchable. He was one aisle over from me and still fighting tears. Suddenly, another man in Gunner’s aisle noticed he was upset and struck up a conversation with him (People who work in truck stops are very attuned to children being kidnapped and at that point, Gunner was in distress. The man inquired.). Come to find out, he was the manager of the fireworks store.
Curious and cautious, I rounded the corner to see who was talking to my son. About the same time, the man pulled out a ring of keys, which was so big, he could have unlocked the world. He looked at my son and said, “Well son, do you want me to open the fireworks store for you? I can do that!” Gunner was so excited, he froze.
I’ll never forget the way that guy looked at that moment. He was a rugged and handsome fellow, with dark hair and big blue eyes, wearing a typical blue flannel shirt, jeans, and a ballcap which had to be 20yrs old. Today, someone in Manhattan or Palo Alto would think he was a pedophile, and shun him. Yet, at that moment, our guy was wearing a red suit, and driving a sleigh with 8 reindeer. Yep, Santa Claus showed up at a truckstop in Missouri. My little man was thrilled.
We found Big T back at the minivan, when a light cold rain started to fall. We drove back across the parking lot to the Firework Warehouse section. The man unlocked the doors and flipped on the remainder of the lights. We were the only ones there. The place is enormous, it used to be an old Wal-Mart, filled with Fireworks. YUGE! For Gunner, it was like being the only kid at the North Pole.
We shopped and shopped, making deals left and right. I made a deal if I spent “X” dollars for “X” discount. Then, we found a whole deck in the back with the big “finale” fireworks, but the paper torn…. They were already half off and last years fireworks, not sure if they would work, …. so a double deal. I let Gunner buy whatever he wanted, he’s still a frugal kid. By the time were were ready to ring up, I had 8 grocery carts, piled high, full of fireworks. Our tally was a little over $1K and Big T treated. It was the most we had ever spent but we walked away with at least 3-4K worth. I was hoping the stash might last a few years………
But we had a problem. We couldn’t get it all in the minivan as we had suitcases and other stuff in the car. The Firework guy offered to box it up and keep it for our return trip, but we wanted to take it with us. Rapidly, we deconstructed as much 90% packaging as we could. It took a while and the rain was picking up but the temps were dropping. Eventually, we had to pack Gunner into his seat and pack fireworks around him. We put some under the seats, in the back, emptied one suitcase – consolidated to another – and packed more mortar shells in the extra suitcase. We even had fireworks on the floor surrounding the passenger, on the dashboard, and all around the driver. We were loaded. Gunner hugged his Santa (so did I), and the snow started…..
We were cramped but joyous by our coincidental encounter with the Missouri Santa Claus. I couldn’t believe our good luck. Gunner could not move, his feet were in his chest. When we got home, we had to uncoil Gunner, one limb at a time. He looked like a bean sprout, from a lima bean, getting out of the car,…… but he was thrilled.
We took over one entire room of the B&B to organize our treasure. For months, Gunner’s buddies went into that room and dreamt about July 4th……. just like kids would dream about Christmas.
Month after month, the kids waited. Can’t remember what we ate or drank that year, but I do remember, when the fireworks started, we had 64 kids. Dad’s set up 4 pads to launch – and the dads were just as excited as the kids. Some of the kids fell asleep before we were finished. It was a banner year.
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A few years later, we started the stone company, and I figured out almost all the fireworks in the world come from one town in China….. My eyes got big…….. I could send one of my guys who was in China, up to the city, to personally supervise the purchase. “OOooooohhh”, I thought, “I would get the cool stuff!” Of course, it was a good idea to import a container of fireworks! Immediately, I began to enlist girlfriends to chip in on the finances. Big T shook his head, surely I would need a pyrotechnic license, massive paperwork and approvals. He’s always nervous if anything smells remotely illegal – the lawyer – the altar boy. On a lark, I called the local FBI to check. “You did WHAT????? You called the FBI to see if you could park a container of fireworks in the driveway?”, he was about to blow a blood vessel. But…but… but……I was good to go, “As long as I kept each “shot” under 500 grams.”, I said innocently.
Nope, Big T put his foot down.
He’s such a killjoy.
Gotta have fireworks……..!
Think I will take it easy this year and just bake a cake.