Cedar Street was a ‘battlefield’

To coin a phrase from Pat Benatar’s 1983 song, “Love is a Battlefield,” I’m here to tell you that “Cedar Street was a battlefield” after the sun set on the Fourth of July.

I had just finished watching a movie and shortly before 10 p.m., I decided to step outside onto my deck. Coming as no surprise, I heard a barrage of bangs and booms and saw the nighttime sky lit up in brilliant colors.

As you can guess, the Fourth of July fireworks were in full mode. Full, full mode.

I well remember my very first Fourth of July in Brandon. As I took refuge on my couch that evening, there appeared to be a constant battle of who could light off more fireworks than the other. To better explain, one of end of the street would light off an entire pack of firecrackers and then the other end of the block would answer back by lighting up a pack or two of firecrackers. While I’ve never served in the military, I had an inkling that this was only a small sample of the destructive sounds that many of our veterans had to endure.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I surely enjoy a good fireworks show just as much as the next guy or gal. And if I’m being honest, I enjoy them a whole lot more when someone else is footing the bill for them and going to all the work to sprinkle the nighttime sky with the colors of the rainbow.

As a kid, our community gathered around St. James Lake for the once-a-year fireworks show. I well remember the “oohs” and “aahs” – almost in unison – as each blast provided brilliant hues of blues and greens and reds. I also remember a chorus of screaming kids, who by their reaction, weren’t as excited about them. I heard some of both Monday night from my perch on the patio, squeals of delight and squeals of utter fear.

As I sat there, I remembered a Fourth of July that mom and I took in from the front seat of my car in recent years. We reclined our seats to enjoy the view through the sunroof – or in this case, the moonroof. The mosquitoes were hungry for humans on this particular night, and of course, the temperatures were still hovering in the 90s, with equally high humidity, making for less than desirable fireworks watching conditions.

Mom was quick to point out that in my younger years, I was one of those screaming kids. Apparently, the loud booms and bangs were more than this pint-sized girl could withstand.

My fears of the loud booms and bangs have long been traded in for admiring these celebratory bursts of color. And now, when I’d finally have enough of the Fourth of July hoopla – thanks to the modern convenience of air conditioning – all I have to do is step inside and close the doors, leaving it all behind me.

Here’s hoping your Fourth of July celebrations were filled with bangs, booms and great memories.