My father was a very brave and patriotic man.  Along with his four brothers, he fought for his country during World War II.   The 4th of July was always a special day for him.  When I was a child, he called it “The 4th of Julie.”  So named after his oldest daughter: me.

His was always the favorite house on the block,  he was the dad with the biggest and longest firework display.  I always tried to appear as thrilled and excited as my neighborhood friends.

But secretly I was always was afraid, What if someone got hurt? Especially my beloved father or sister?   What if our house burned down?  Too many “What ifs” always got in the way of the enjoyment I was supposed to be having.

A severe burn, a lost eye or limb or even death is just not worth the “celebration.”

After my dad passed on in 1981,  I made a vow to myself to never purchase fireworks.  Much to the dismay of my two sons, I have kept that promise all these years.  In my opinion the money wasted on fireworks should be put to better use.

A donation to a homeless shelter, food bank or a charity of your choice seems much more patriotic to me.  I know my father would most likely agree with me, but back then he was just trying to make his little girls happy.

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