a humbling experience, the opportunity to take a five-year-old out, lie down on the pavement, at the very same arena parking lot that has been featured in this weblog, and have fireworks blown off literally above us, all of them exploding, colorful ashes raining down near us. gratefully, no one hurt, except a girl playing with sparklers, and a baby too young to take the loud booms. the five-year-old didn't mind the booms, but was bothered by the hissing snakes. the parking lot was wet, not too crowded; i didn't know a soul there, in spite of the fact that this is a very small town. maybe my crowd was up on some hill, better prepared or something, while i was in the lowland pavement area, or something, i don't know. we got sore backs from being propped on the pavement. he saw it for the first time; having an artistic temperament, I'm sure he was impressed. I had to admit they were very pretty, and dramatic. a wind came and blew the acrid burnt gunpowder smell straight off the lot, left us with a fresh night. earlier, we'd been to the sunset concert, where there was also little traffic; a kind of cover band, playing oldies, which was pleasant, and corey dancing, what a sweetie. a kind of victory dance, on my part, maybe, that i made it to thursday, that i found a place, between the speakers, where we were comfortable and enjoyed it, and that, later, they were able to splash around and get wet- usually, any water in july, at all, is mosquito-infested, tepid, gooey- but this, fresh from a couple of downpours, still standing, making pools at the base of the slides- it gave the kids something to work on, and it was fresh, cool, unsullied by the wood-chips that line the children's playground, at 'turtle park'- the site of the concert. i did manage to stay home for the entire holiday itself- it's a national holiday, they made it one a couple-a-hundred years ago, but you'd never know it at work. I'm getting more solemn about it though. don't mess with labor day either, not to mention thanksgiving. i'll work these days if i go abroad, but i'm not abroad, and i have no such plans at the moment. and, by the way, the fourth needs a few more symbols, the flag and the gunpowder are wearing thin, though i'm warming up to the barbeque. here are some more possibilities: blues & bluegrass, true american contributions. liberty bells. philadelphia cream cheese. folk festivals. karaoke contests. i'll think of more, give me time. a little downpour or two clears the air, opens up the world to new possibilities, and, washes away some of the acrid dust of the settled in, ground up bitterness, residue of what's rubbed off, when one's back is pushed to the wall, another summer screeches its tires, kicks up some gravel, and heads off into the sunset.