The Fireworks That Weren’t
How a lackluster fireworks show turned into the time of our lives.
“Grab a sweatshirt. We’re going to be on the beach, so it may get cold.”
It’s 7:30 p.m. on the Fourth of July. The day has been warm, with scattered clouds providing just enough cover to require an extra layer of clothing.
Both my daughters and niece are ready to stay up past their bedtime in anticipation of finally watching the sun sink into the ocean but, most importantly, to watch explosions in the sky lead to vibrant colors often reserved for pieces of construction paper at home.
We grab our coats, blankets, a bag of popcorn, and beach-ready shoes, and our family hops in the car to embark on the five-minute journey from my brother-in-law's place in Montecito to East Beach in Santa Barbara. Like roses to sunflowers.
“How much time until the fireworks start?”
We’ve got about 45 minutes to kill time. After finding a prime parking spot located feet from the sand, we were ready for the show. Last year, we were far less prepared, arriving at East Beach mere minutes before the show. The hurried walk from our car, which felt like a mile away, to the beach and back felt like a whirlwind, hardly worth the 15-minute show. This year, we had snacks, we had parking, we had time, and we had a park!
As we put our blanket down beside a well-used volleyball court, the kids ran to the park, playing hide and seek and tag and getting their money’s worth out of the swings. As my wife and I kept our eyes on the kids, we took a moment to enjoy an evening on the beach during a summer that felt like anything but a break.
Just then, a firework went off.
“Are they starting?!” my daughter yelled.
“No, those aren’t the real fireworks,” my wife responded.
“What are they then?”
“Those are the illegal ones.”
My kids are well aware of illegal fireworks. During the lead-up to July 4th, our city had plastered our neighborhood with signs that read “Fireworks are illegal in California.” For weeks, this led to questions about the legality of fireworks and the concern over fireworks shows.
I thought I would simplify the conversation by stating that fireworks shows put on by the city were legal and fireworks not put on by the city were illegal. That should put the issue to rest, right?
Well, as more and more “illegal” fireworks kept popping up all around the beach, the questions continued.
“Are those the illegal ones?”
“Are they allowed to do that?”
“Are they going to be arrested?”
Their questions were out of sheer curiosity, but not even Google could help me. Maybe I should have done a deep dive to answer the questions of seven and two five-year-old kids, but we were sitting on the beach. The weather was great. We were on vacation, and a Google deep dive into the legality of certain fireworks was not something I had the capacity to do while taking in the ocean.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Not my finest Dad moment, but it was all I could muster at the time.
It was now 8:50 pm, and we were ten minutes from the show. “Illegal” fireworks kept shooting from the beach, and Katy Perry’s “Fireworks” was playing from the radio behind us.
The girls were wrapped up in blankets with me, my wife, and my mother-in-law. The popcorn that had missed their mouths was spilling on our blankets, and the anticipation for late-night loud explosions was building.
The countdown began.
“10, 9, 8… 3, 2, 1. Let the fireworks begin!”
…
“When are they going to start?” the kids asked.
The three of us adults were just as confused as the kids. We could hear fireworks shooting, and we saw some faint colors in the distance, but a few minutes into the show, the grumbles were starting around us from people who had camped out all day, only to find that the clouds were going to alter their 4th of July plans.
“There’s one!”
A ruby red explosion just above us gave the kids hope that the show was about to begin, but during my decades of experience watching fireworks shows, I knew this wasn’t the real thing. The cadence of time between fireworks was off, while the vivid colors off in the distance mimicked those of an actual fireworks show. We had been bamboozled by the fog!
We picked a bad spot. But how? We planned it so well!
Pointing to the nearby fireworks, my wife told the kids, “Those aren’t the real fireworks.”
“Wait… who is setting them off?” the kids responded.
“Just some Joe Shmoe.”
Joe Shmoe, the fireworks King. Classic. Just then, another firework was set off behind us.
“Joe Shmoe!” the kids yelled.
And then another firework was set off in front of us.
“Joe Shmoe!” the kids yelled again.
As the crowd grew restless with the dud of a real fireworks show, people took matters into their own hands, setting off fireworks left and right, creating a bootleg firework show on the beach for all to see.
My wife and I couldn’t help but feel that all of our planning had gone down the drain for a lackluster fireworks show that would soon be forgotten. The kids, on the other hand, did not feel the same.
“Joe Shmoe! Joe Shmore! Joe Shmoe!” The girls chanted this fictional man’s name as if Mr. Shmoe was America’s Founding Father.
The people around us looked as if our kids had lost their minds, which was probably true as it was way past their bedtime, but as we packed our blankets and walked toward the car, the kids made it clear that the evening was anything but a wash.
“Best fireworks show ever!” the kids said as they hopped into the car. Who am I to disagree?
Parenting is funny because there are times when you put genuine effort into plans, hoping to create a memorable event that your family will reflect on for years to come, and then life happens. And as you sulk over wasted time, kids find a way to make an even more memorable moment than we could have planned in the first place.
The following morning, as we sat for breakfast, all the kids could talk about was Joe Shmoe’s fireworks show. Sure, they were sporadic. Sure, they were illegal, but as the kid’s eyes lit up like the previous night's fireworks, talking about the fireworks that weren’t, it was clear that the evening was anything but a dud.
Our girls created lifelong memories that will be told at family functions for years to come. The joke likely won’t be as funny to anyone outside the six of us, but that’s okay; family bonds are built over tiny, little moments over the course of a lifetime.
As I approach this season, I’m reminded to take a step back and make room for the ordinary moments, as this is where life thrives.