American Optimism: Storm? What Storm?
I’m not sure what was more exciting, 45 minutes worth of a fireworks display crammed into 10 minutes, or the mad 4-mile dash back to the car in a desperate attempt to outrun a ferocious thunderstorm.
Like most of the United States, we recently took the girls and our nephew (who is 6) to a nearby 4th of July event. Somehow word had spread to our daughters about the existence of fireworks, possibly the week-long build-up at daycare, so excitement was reaching dangerous levels. For days, the normal response to any question, comment or request was, “When are we going to see fireworks?” and if your answer was anything other than, “Right this instant,” they would reply, “But it’s America’s birthday!”
We decided to take everyone to the festivities in Strasburg, VA. By “decided,” I mean “were forced.” Not that there is anything wrong with Strasburg’s Independence Day celebration. We’ve been going there for years, and it’s always a good time. But this year we had wanted to go to a different event and try something new. We had it all planned out - arrangements had been made for my nephew to be joining us, dinner had been taken care of, and we purposely waited until close to dusk before we left so as to avoid outdoor temperatures that sounded more like they came out of a recipe than a weather forecast.
It was close to 6:45 when we prepared to leave, which was the perfect time for my wife to notice the fine print in the newspaper ad which said that the main gates closed at 6:30. Quickly revising our plans, we thought that maybe there was a fireworks display somewhere in Front Royal. After some quick research, we found out that of course there was...the day before. It seemed Strasburg had been chosen for us.
We arrived, and began the four-mile hike from the public parking lot to the park. Okay, maybe technically it was closer to a half mile. But, as all parents know, the amount of work it takes to get a child under the age of 10 to walk any given distance is at least double the amount of effort it would take to walk it alone.
When we made it to the event, there were dozens of food stands, pony rides, toy booths, and moonbounces (moonbounci? I’m not sure of the plural of that word) scattered around the park. When the kids noticed the moonbounce, it was like one of those cartoons where the characters disappear leaving a kid-shaped dust cloud behind. There was also a flurry of shoes. I somehow found myself childless, holding three pair of shoes with no idea what just happened. My wife had taken all our stuff and gone to claim a spot while I tried to keep track of three overly excited children amongst hundreds of other overly excited children. It seemed that the kids had figured out that it was too much trouble to take shoes off and put them back on every time they went in a new moonbounce. Even if they were wearing flip flops. But you’ve got to love a moonbounce. You can relax while the kids are relatively safely confined and burning off some of their seemingly endless supply of surplus energy. They may be bouncing off the walls (ha!) but at least they aren’t destroying anything.
Once everything was under control (and I use that phrase loosely) the first thing we noticed was how enthusiastically everyone was ignoring the ominous storm clouds and jagged lightning bursts on the horizon. No one ran screaming to their cars. Nothing got cancelled due to the severe thunderstorm warnings. Instead, they decided to start the fireworks early, and apparently all at once. Or at least at a much faster pace than originally planned, to try and beat the storm. Dangerous? Perhaps. Awesome? Absolutely.
Mother nature was not to be outdone that night, however. The lightning was amazing. Strange sideways and upside down lightning, heat lightning, all almost continuously, throughout the whole show. The massive storm was approaching us, in the direction we would have to go to get back to the parking lot, and literally hundreds of people decided not to run from almost certain doom. We instead chose to stay and celebrate our independence. Why? Because this is America! We have American optimism, confidence and faith. The United States didn’t become the greatest nation on earth by running from dangerous and difficult situations. When times look rough and a situation looks hopeless, we don’t run back to our cars like cowards! We stare a storm right in the face and say, “Psht. We can beat that.” It made me very proud of my fellow countrymen. God bless America.
That’s not to say that the minute the fireworks ended we didn’t all make a quick exit to our cars. America didn’t become great by being stupid, either.
I learned a few things this Fourth of July: 1. You know you’re at a fun event when shoes are an inconvenience; 2. Americans are some of the most patriotic people on the planet; and 3. You’d be surprised how much farther a destination seems when you have to walk towards a thunderstorm to get to it.
Like most of the United States, we recently took the girls and our nephew (who is 6) to a nearby 4th of July event. Somehow word had spread to our daughters about the existence of fireworks, possibly the week-long build-up at daycare, so excitement was reaching dangerous levels. For days, the normal response to any question, comment or request was, “When are we going to see fireworks?” and if your answer was anything other than, “Right this instant,” they would reply, “But it’s America’s birthday!”
We decided to take everyone to the festivities in Strasburg, VA. By “decided,” I mean “were forced.” Not that there is anything wrong with Strasburg’s Independence Day celebration. We’ve been going there for years, and it’s always a good time. But this year we had wanted to go to a different event and try something new. We had it all planned out - arrangements had been made for my nephew to be joining us, dinner had been taken care of, and we purposely waited until close to dusk before we left so as to avoid outdoor temperatures that sounded more like they came out of a recipe than a weather forecast.
It was close to 6:45 when we prepared to leave, which was the perfect time for my wife to notice the fine print in the newspaper ad which said that the main gates closed at 6:30. Quickly revising our plans, we thought that maybe there was a fireworks display somewhere in Front Royal. After some quick research, we found out that of course there was...the day before. It seemed Strasburg had been chosen for us.
We arrived, and began the four-mile hike from the public parking lot to the park. Okay, maybe technically it was closer to a half mile. But, as all parents know, the amount of work it takes to get a child under the age of 10 to walk any given distance is at least double the amount of effort it would take to walk it alone.
When we made it to the event, there were dozens of food stands, pony rides, toy booths, and moonbounces (moonbounci? I’m not sure of the plural of that word) scattered around the park. When the kids noticed the moonbounce, it was like one of those cartoons where the characters disappear leaving a kid-shaped dust cloud behind. There was also a flurry of shoes. I somehow found myself childless, holding three pair of shoes with no idea what just happened. My wife had taken all our stuff and gone to claim a spot while I tried to keep track of three overly excited children amongst hundreds of other overly excited children. It seemed that the kids had figured out that it was too much trouble to take shoes off and put them back on every time they went in a new moonbounce. Even if they were wearing flip flops. But you’ve got to love a moonbounce. You can relax while the kids are relatively safely confined and burning off some of their seemingly endless supply of surplus energy. They may be bouncing off the walls (ha!) but at least they aren’t destroying anything.
Once everything was under control (and I use that phrase loosely) the first thing we noticed was how enthusiastically everyone was ignoring the ominous storm clouds and jagged lightning bursts on the horizon. No one ran screaming to their cars. Nothing got cancelled due to the severe thunderstorm warnings. Instead, they decided to start the fireworks early, and apparently all at once. Or at least at a much faster pace than originally planned, to try and beat the storm. Dangerous? Perhaps. Awesome? Absolutely.
Mother nature was not to be outdone that night, however. The lightning was amazing. Strange sideways and upside down lightning, heat lightning, all almost continuously, throughout the whole show. The massive storm was approaching us, in the direction we would have to go to get back to the parking lot, and literally hundreds of people decided not to run from almost certain doom. We instead chose to stay and celebrate our independence. Why? Because this is America! We have American optimism, confidence and faith. The United States didn’t become the greatest nation on earth by running from dangerous and difficult situations. When times look rough and a situation looks hopeless, we don’t run back to our cars like cowards! We stare a storm right in the face and say, “Psht. We can beat that.” It made me very proud of my fellow countrymen. God bless America.
That’s not to say that the minute the fireworks ended we didn’t all make a quick exit to our cars. America didn’t become great by being stupid, either.
I learned a few things this Fourth of July: 1. You know you’re at a fun event when shoes are an inconvenience; 2. Americans are some of the most patriotic people on the planet; and 3. You’d be surprised how much farther a destination seems when you have to walk towards a thunderstorm to get to it.
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