Fourth of July Memories

I wrote about my Fourth of July memories, of things we did as kids a few years ago. I'm the oldest of four and the only girl. Childhood years are few when we look at the overall scheme of our lives, but they leave us with tremendous impressions and memories, all of which make us the adults we are today. I've posted my thoughts of this holiday below. Hope everyone has a great holiday and remembers what it's all about. Maybe you can write about your own memories of this day.

Fourth Of July Memories Come back with me to the1940’s and early 50's era in Chicago. During the first few days of July, my younger brothers and I walked to the neighborhood Woolworth’s store to buy a very important item for our Fourth of July celebration. We had to make our purchase no later than July 3rd, for all businesses closed on Independence Day.  We walked on the creaky wooden floor, smelling the penny candy lined up in glass cases near the front door. Straight to the back of the long aisle, we found rolls and rolls of colored crepe paper--red, white, and blue, of course. We bought several rolls with money we’d saved. Once home, we stashed our purchase for the next day. The first thing after breakfast on the Fourth of July, we clambered down the three flights of stairs from our top floor apartment to the basement where our bikes were kept. Bump, bump, bump—up the steps from basement to courtyard we went with our two-wheeled bikes. Down went the kickstands, and out came the rolls of crepe paper to decorate. We wove the colored streamers in and out of the wheel spokes, and fastened more on the handle-bars, then stepped back to see which one looked best. Decorating our bikes for America’s holiday left an indelible impression of patriotism in us. Other kids in our building worked on bikes, too. We rode all over the neighborhood, up and down alleys and sidewalks showing off our handiwork, not caring how high the temperature might be.  We spent the rest of the day like any other hot, sultry summer day. We ate popsicles to cool off, walked to the park where families sat on the lawn with picnic lunches and waited impatiently for the sun to go down. Dad had gone out earlier to one of the only businesses open—the fireworks stand. Money was usually scarce in our family, but Dad always found some extra to buy firecrackers and sparklers for us. No doubt, he enjoyed them as much as we did. Darkness finally descended over our city, and once again, we hurried down the three flights of stairs. Not just kids this time, but our whole family. We gathered in the alley beyond the apartment courtyard along with several other families.  Only Dad lit our firecrackers, although I’m sure my brothers wanted to try it. One I loved was a pinwheel which Dad stuck into a telephone pole. When he lit the fuse, the entire thing whirled round and round, throwing sparks in every direction. Little firecrackers on the ground did nothing but make popping noises, but the Roman candles gave us the real show. Big noise and showers of colorful sparks which delighted us. And finally, Dad lit sparklers we held. I loved whirling them round and round, watching the designs the sparks made. All too soon, they burned down to the end and we rushed to get another until the boxes were emptied.  We knew why we decorated our bikes, why people went on picnics and why we had fireworks on the Fourth of July. Our parents talked to us every year about what it meant to have Independence and how a war years before was fought and won to ensure that we lived with freedoms like few other nations. We grew up knowing there was a serious side to the holiday. The Fourth of July was a special day we looked forward to every summer.