My parents have a few mantras. The one I most hear is: Where did you come from? How did two Type Z personalities create a Type A person?
(Double recessive genes is my standard answer!)
One that’s less philosophical is: There’s no place like Frisco, Colorado to watch fireworks.
(Frisco IS great, but the Hong Kong Harbor … ah-may-zing!)
My dad loved fireworks.
When I was a kid, he loved loading the three of us girls into the car and going to the firework stand. Depending on what was legal that year, he’d stock up. When we returned home, another one of his mantras was “the girls will love this!” as my mom gave him quizzical looks as to the amount and veracity of the purchases.
Yeah, the girls will love them.
But when it finally got dark and Dad lit his blow torch, we knew who was having the most fun. It was only years later I learned not everyone’s Dad uses a blow torch because it’s an efficient way to light fireworks. To this day, that blue flame means good times are about ready to roll! And I can testify you can light those black pellet snakes, as we say in Chinese, mei wenti, no problem, with a blow torch.
It’s funny the things we miss about Dad. I didn’t realize fireworks were such a part of my story, but turns out they are. This year as we watch them, there will be the usual oohs and ahhs!, but also some tears.
May you enjoy loved ones this week whether is a holiday where you live or not. And if you want to light a blow torch in my dad’s honor, I know what he’d say … Go for it!