I never knew how fireworks operated until an embarrassingly late age, but I had a seemingly iron-clad theory.
__________
July 4, sitting on a blanket in the front lawn of our Junior High School which is situated directly across from the community park. The darkness creeps in, and I wait, my head resting in my mother’s lap, for the first firework to burst into the air. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine the crew’s final preparations.
I hear the THUNK as Strongman #1 takes a mighty swing of his sledgehammer and strikes the board on the opposite side, catapulting the firework into the sky.
|
Large wooden boards are carefully balanced atop wedges, with one side of the board resting on the ground, the other in the air. The fireworks assigned to each board are lined up, in specific order, beside the crewman. The carnival strongmen, specially recruited for today’s work, stretch their sledgehammers high above their heads and complete a few final warm-up swings.
The moment has arrived. Each strongman takes his place beside his designated board. A crewman places the first firework on Strongman #1’s board, lights it, and gives the signal.
I hear the THUNK as Strongman #1 takes a mighty swing of his sledgehammer and strikes the board on the opposite side, catapulting the firework into the sky. I open my eyes for the impending explosion and witness a beautiful red cascade of light.
Strongman #2, already in position, receives the signal from his crewman and strikes with his sledgehammer. THUNK! His firework is the annoying type. The kind that burst in a flash of white light and produce nothing but a loud BOOM!
… the grand finale approaches. There is the brief twenty second pause where I imagine the strongmen wiping sweat from their brows and preparing for the grueling few minutes ahead.
|
Next, Strongmen #3 & #4 watch the crewmen light the fuses, glance at one another, then count in unison, “3, 2, 1 … ” and simultaneously strike their boards. The result is a dual explosion of colors.
Strongman #5 steps up, but as he swings, his sledgehammer doesn’t catch the entire board, and the firework barely makes it above the tree line before it explodes. Several audience members on nearby blankets boo loudly. I want to tell them it’s not his fault and that I’d like to see them try swinging a sledgehammer perfectly, but I remain silent.
For fifteen minutes, the strongmen and crewmen work seamlessly, until the grand finale approaches. There is the brief twenty second pause where I imagine the strongmen wiping sweat from their brows and preparing for the grueling few minutes ahead. A crewman gives the signal and the first board is struck, followed almost immediately by the next and the next. The strongmen swing and strike, swing and strike, like some windup toy restricted to only this motion. The result in the sky is an array of sights, sounds, and colors that has everyone screaming and cheering.
Smoke billows atop the tree line, and I worry for the strongmen and crewmen. How can they even see where they swing? And have they donned their masks yet, because truly, who wants to breathe that nasty air?
◊♦◊
The final firework explodes in the night sky, and the crowd goes wild. I stand with my family, we fold the blanket, and we begin our walk to the car. I look to the tree line once more before I slip into the backseat and share a silent thank you with those men. “Thank you for taking the time from your carnival travels to visit our town. Yours is a oft-overlooked, behind the scenes job, but know there’s at least one boy who truly appreciates what you do.”
“How’d you like the fireworks?” Dad asks.
“They were awesome!” I say. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever think I could become strong enough to do that?”
Dad looks confused.
______
The role of men is changing in the 21st century. Want to keep up? Get the best stories from The Good Men Project delivered straight to your inbox, here.
—-
Image credit: LOLren/flickr