Fourth of July

I went for my am constitutional, and saw a few American flags flying around my neighborhood. Sure enough --July 4 is 3 days away. As I walked, I went back in time in my mind, something I've been doing more and more lately.

July 4 was one of my favorite holidays. Some of my earlier memories are lying on a blanket at Salsibury Park, watching the fireworks. My parents loved them, too, and we would always watch a display somewhere.

1976 was, of course, the Bicentennial, and July 4 was going to be a really big deal. In retrospect, my friends and I should have gone to NYC to watch the Tall Ships, but we were suburban kids, and had simpler plans. We dressed up in nice shirts and dress jeans and went over to our local Beefsteak Charlies.

Beefsteak Charlies was famous for giving you "all the wine, beer, or sangria" you wanted with your meal. Since it was a restaurant and not a bar, older teens like us, if we acted "mature," could get away with drinking there. We were 16 or about to turn that age, and some of us had some facial fuzz. We thought we'd give it a chance that July 4, 1976.

As I recall, it was Mike, Mark, Fitz, John, Eric and me. The waitress took our order (I wanted sangria), and brought us our drinks! We were stunned and excited, trying to conceal our teenaged ecstasy. The steaks we had that night were the most delicious of our lives.

We had our fill, but didn't get drunk, as I recall. We decided to watch the fireworks at Eisenhower PArk, the new name for our beloved Salisbury (the Republicans had won in Nassau County in the late 60s and named schools and parks after their heroes. My high school was Gen MacArthur. The Junior High School, finished a few years earlier when the Dems were in power, was named after Jonas Salk).

We strolled the 7 or 8 miles to the park, in the evening breeze. I still remember how grown up I felt --I had ordered, been served, and paid for a meal with alcohol!

At the park, we flopped to the grass and tried to make time with some LI girls sitting nearby. I don't remember anything succesful, even though my friend Mark was a dead ringer for Peter Frampton, the heartthrob of the time.

I guess Mike had consumed more than the rest of us, as he loudly and proudly vomited up his dinner. Fittingly, he became our group's only bona fide alcoholic in later years.

We walked all the way home, past the evening trees, as Springsteen calls them.

We showed our true level of maturity the next year, when we set off homemade firecrackers. We had spent the better part of June painstakingly removing gunpowder from hundreds of firecrackers, with a razor blade. This was pre 9/11 and pre Colombine, of course. These days, our antics would have landed us in jail.

We came up with a bomb probably about as powerful as 1/4 stick of dynamite, and set it off in Mark's back yard. Eric was too close, and still suffers hearing loss today. The police came, but we ran, and escaped prosecution. We're lucky we didn't kill ourselves, of course.

I have 2 daughters, and hopefully they don't crave the destructive excitement I know teenaged boys do.

It was all part of growing up, I guess, and it's funny how a small flag hanging from a pole can bring me back over 30 years.

This July 4, D2 is going up to Gainesville to visit her sister. I can only hope there will be no explosives involved.

Wifey and I are heading to a house party, and then, of course, fireworks! Our usual venue, the Biltmore Hotel, has cancelled them for lack of Coral Gables funding, so we'll go to Baptist Hospital instead.

All these years later, I still love fireworks.