Jun 30 2009
July 4th – And the Rockets Red Glare
It’s an American ritual. All over America, it happens. It’s probably the one thing we do in unison (separated only by time zones), and we do it in much the same way.
We gather up the family and head out for a 4th of July picnic of burgers, hot dogs and watermelon, or perhaps something more nouveau and color-coordinated – strawberry salsa, sun-dried tomato and roasted pepper dip, white ceviche, blue corn cakes, blueberry ice-cream and coconut macadamia truffles.
Totally stuffed with picnic fare, we settle in to watch what we know will be a fabulous show in the summer nighttime sky. We stretch out on blankets, lounge in lawn chairs, take our place in bleachers, lean on riverboat rails and look up, eagerly anticipating the first burst of sound and color. Suddenly out of the darkness, streaks of gold, green, purple, red, white, or blue shoot up, exploding overhead in spectacular shapes – starbursts, chrysanthemums, cascades - each ending in golden sparkles drizzling down in glittering rain. Old or young, cynic or starry-eyed, we are dazzled. And, as we eargerly anticipate the next rapid-fire surprise we tell each other that this is the best ever.
The scenario plays out on any beach. It’s instinctive and universal. Walk along any beach just along the waterline where the waves roll rhythmically in and you’ll catch yourself doing it: looking down. Suddenly, right there, tumbling in sand and foam, you see it! A fleeting hint of color, a minute rippled edge. As the water recedes pulling a layer of sand and shell with it, it disappears. Now you see it, now you don’t! With impressive reaction time you reach down and grab the illusion. Slowly you open a dripping handful of sand and peer inside, hoping for the perfect keeper – an intact shell, a wonder nature, strikingly beautiful, elegantly scrolled, perfectly fluted, delicately patterned.
