Fireworks

Here in Canada, this last weekend was a long weekend, celebrating Victoria Day. What this mostly means is that it's the beginning of the warm weather and there are lots of fireworks displays.

When I was a child, fireworks were the most amazing, "sickest", thing ever. We didn't get to see them very often as my parents didn't like the idea of bottle rockets, and even sparklers were a source of burns, but I do remember one spectacular failure.

The youngest of my three brothers was known for his defiance of authority, and one day when I was very young, he brought home a bottle rocket. These were tiny little fireworks that had a long stick so you could prop them up in a glass milk bottle - hence, "bottle rocket" - so you could light the fuse and have it go up without much risk of burning yourself.

There was an overlap in the nights my parents worked - Sundays. When my older brothers headed off to university or into the Army, this youngest brother was left looking after my little sister and I. As a result, events such as the Great Bottle Rocket Launch happened when my parents weren't around.

So with great fanfare this brother produced a bottle from one of the empties set out for the milkman, grandly placed the little firework into the bottle, and gleefully called his little sisters out to come be naughty with him. If there's one thing corruption loves, it's an innocent audience.

With a flourish he lit the fuse. My sister and I waited with baited, excited breath. It sparked a bit, there was a bit of smoke. We leaned further forward in order to better see the magic as it happened...

Then nothing. The bloody thing just sat there. It was a dud, a fizzer that in later days came to represent that brother in my mind. Lots of promise, no spark.

Later in my life there were sparklers on cakes, and those were always a thrill for me. However, things changed in Victoria after one spectacular fireworks show in Melbourne. As I recall, though research hasn't allowed me to find the actual reference yet, the last straw was when one of the grandstands at one of our big and at the time new sporting arenas caught fire from a professional fireworks display. It was a very hot summer, and a stray spark melted the seats. Fireworks were banned in Victoria soon after, with only New Year's one of the few days that you could see fireworks at all. You certainly weren't allowed to buy them for yourself anymore. Not that we were when I was living with my parents, but that never stopped my stupid brother.

I used to love going to SkyShow near Albert Park Lake on Australia Day. I think I only went twice and the crowds were horrendous, but it was a fantastic show. They'd do firework displays to music they played over the supporting radio station, EON FM (which is now Triple M and I am really showing my age here). Even when I didn't go I'd still listen in on my little radio. Ahh, the innocence of youth. Now I suppose I'd stream it online, or wait for the podcast, watching simulated fireworks on my PC.*

It's a different story in Canada, and I suppose that all this time without them in Australia has turned me into a fearful spoil-sport. When I walked into my local grocery store and saw ranks upon ranks of fireworks for sale, my first thought was not the joyful "Oh boy oh boy! FIREWORKS!" I once would have felt, but instead it was more like "OH GODS, WE'RE SURROUNDED BY TREES AND ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Too many Total Fire Ban Days, I suspect.

There were ranks and ranks of 'em.

RAAAAAAAANKS!

Ranks and ranks and ranks of 'em. RAAAAANKS.

The Husband and I did go to a professional pyrotechnics show over the weekend, though, down in a teeny town some ways from here. It was a small show, but lovely, set in the middle of forests and on the shores of a large lake. The setting was idyllic and the fireworks glorious. Alas, I cried through it thinking about all the cute little animals I'd seen there and what would happen to them should there be a misplaced spark.

My friends, I have become that most scary of creatures, The Old Fart. That's right. Get off my lawn.

* The end of this piece was going to be a chuckle at the expense of Australia's capital city, Canberra, which was the one place fireworks were still legal. Alas, research for this piece has found that after the last big bushfires there, Canberra too has outlawed the sale of fireworks. Ah well, at least you can still legally make your hardcore porn there. Gotta love our pollies.