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Today's blog submitted by guest writer Robin Thomas:
I’m thankful that I live in a country where we each have the
freedom to celebrate our patriotism with family and friends on the 4th
of July. We’re free to eat Aunt Kay’s homemade banana nut ice cream then go sit
on a lawn chair in front of the courthouse square and watch our kids wave a red,
white and blue symbol of American pride at passing homemade parade floats and
synchronized Shriner’s go-karts. Yes, I love America and I love folks who love America,
too. It’s a day to honor our veterans and those who paid the price for precious
freedom. It’s a day of celebration traditionally capped off by detonating fireworks!
That awesome burning sulfur smell from a freshly popped
Blackcat takes me back to the summers of my youth when I “helped” my uncles operate
their little firework stand. Firework City, USA was on the edge of their farm
on an old dirt road just a mile south of the traffic loop in Lubbock, Tx. Firework City, USA was a 6 ft by 20 ft metal
shack which housed the entrepreneurial dreams of my then 15 year old twin
uncles. I loved going to visit them at my Grandmother and Granddaddy Thomas’
farm. We’d take off our shoes when we got to the back porch steps of my
grandparent’s ‘57 Chevy blue farmhouse and not put them back on until we left
in a few weeks. My grandparents made magic happen for us grandkids on their
farm and they did it by giving us 110% more freedom than we deserved. As long
as I didn’t drive into Granddaddy’s blackeyed pea patch, I was allowed to drive
his old farm truck all over the farm. For a nine year old, that is FREEEEEDOM! We worked and were rewarded with non-monetary
rewards. My kids have never been swimming
in an irrigation ditch after chopping weeds out of dryland cotton all day, but
if they had, they’d know there was no better experience, time or place in the
world. This is stuff you can’t experience on
Wii or X-Box.
One particular summer night right after a strategic dirt
clod fight, “someone” double dared my younger cousin, Kurtis, to stomp out the
fire of a still burning 18 shot medium barrage firework. I wonder why that
firework stand seldom turned a profit? Anyway, Kurtis took the dare. He had no
choice as it was a double dog dare. Kurtis soon learned the sulfur flame insulating
value of the sole of his PF Flyer’s sneakers, which, as I mentioned earlier,
were not presently on his bare feet, but instead were lying in a neat pile of muddy
shoes by the screen door of my grandparent’s ‘57 Chevy blue farmhouse. After a
lot of howling and tattling to Grandmother about what I double dog dared him to
do (he was such a crybaby) I learned I have the freedom to tell the truth that
“blue flames are not really ice cold” and also not play mean-spirited pranks on my
cousin. I then experienced forgiveness by way of peach tree switch. And guess
what? I still loved Grandmother nonetheless for it. And all of us grandkids
still chased fireflies that night after eating watermelon cooled by an
irrigation ditch full of cold West Texas well water. Freedom. Granddaddy still whittled
scary watermelon rind monster teeth for each of us out of some of the few watermelons
that his nine year old grandson hadn’t crushed with his old farm truck. Freedom.
And we still shot roman candles at each other after snipe hunting armed with
nothing but an old burlap tow sack and a lot of courage. Freedom. Happy Independence Day, PromiseLand
West. I hope each of you remember your first taste of freedom this 4th
of July!
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