I hope everyone out there who’s at the beach (well, those who can anyway, especially in New Jersey), a river, a lake, or wherever they’ve chosen to celebrate Independence Day has a great time with their family and/or friends and/or newly acquaintances.

If you’re in the U.S., you know that the 4th of July is also a day of fireworks.  Big…

…large…

fireworks…

Aaaaannnnddddd… here’s where I tell you I don’t care much for fireworks and, frankly, any celebration that involves fire and gunpowder and explosives.

Two reasons, really.

The first happened to me when I was, perhaps, 8 years old or so.  We had a get together and, though it might not have been the 4th of July (it could have been a New Year’s celebration, I really can’t remember all that well), we were invited to celebrate at a friend of the family’s place.  A friend of that friend brought some fireworks to the party and in the process of lighting them up nearly blew his entire thumb off.

By “nearly” I mean it was hanging quite literally by a few bits of skin.

Needless to say, the celebration was cut short as this individual had to be rushed to a hospital.  Don’t recall what became of him but, again, he was a friend of a friend and truly more an acquaintance of my parents than myself.  I never saw him again and can’t recall if they ever told me if his thumb was saved.  Obviously, I hope so for his sake.

The second frightening experience I had with fireworks happened on the Bicentennial, the 4th of July 1976.

I was with my Uncle (a very nice man who recently passed away, may he rest in peace) and his family at the beach and he brought along some fireworks to shoot off in celebration.  Nothing extreme, just some standard sparklers and a few rockets.

So we’re sitting there in the sand and there are people around us but the beach isn’t super crowded.  We’ve got space to do what we want and those around us, likewise, have their space.

We get to the business of lighting up the fireworks we have and the kids -myself included- wave around sparklers and everything is going ok.

Then we get to the few rockets my Uncle brought.

Again, we’re talking pretty wimpy things.  These rockets were the type that go up in the air and light up and that’s about it.  I don’t thing any of them were “exploders”.

I’m anticipating what’s to come when I notice a young woman sitting some ten/fifteen feet away from us.  The lady, I vividly recall, was watching what we were doing and, as I watched her watching us, I had a very bad premonition.

Mind you, I’m very much a skeptic of all things “paranormal”.  Ghosts, bigfoot, UFO’s, psychic abilities…they’re all wonderful to use in works of fiction but that, to me, is what they are: Fiction.

Yet I would be lying if I said at that moment and time I didn’t have the strongest feeling something very bad was about to happen with the lady and the rocket my Uncle was just about to fire off.

I knew it.

I didn’t say anything and perhaps I should have…but what was there to say?  I had a very bad feeling but even in my then 10 year old mind it seemed a silly, though admittedly potent, feeling.

So the rocket is pointed straight up and it should have sailed that way.  My Uncle lights the damn thing and when it ignites, the rocket does go up…

…for maybe six feet.

Once it gets to that height, the damn thing spins around and suddenly flies straight down.  It skips twice off the sand and heads directly at -you guessed it- the young lady sitting nearby.

The rocket slams into her, missing her face by inches and instead burrowing itself into the side of her head and her curly brown hair.  My Uncle instantly shoots up and runs to her and smacks at the rocket, desperately trying to get it off her.

He manages to do so, along with several clumps of the woman’s hair which were burned off by the projectile.  Luckily, and if memory serves, that was the extent of the damage she suffered and other than some lost hair, no part of her was actually burned.

My Uncle apologized profusely to the woman, who was not only horrified but incredibly -and understandably!- pissed at what happened though I suspect even she knew how weird it was that the rocket took off and made such a sharp, completely unexpected turn.

She left, still mighty pissed, and we didn’t bother shooting off the rest of the fireworks we brought along to celebrate the Bicentennial.

So, there you have it my friends.  Have a great 4th of July and enjoy the fireworks…

But don’t mind me if I skip that part, OK?