Dave Richards: Fireworks lit my imagination

Erie Times-News features writer Dave Richards.ERIE TIMES-NEWS

Food, family and fireworks equal the Fourth of July, right? It's been that way for as long as I can remember, which is a sadly sizable slice of American history that dates back to the Eisenhower administration.

I wasn't born on the Fourth, but I was born on the day my mom pulled the lever to vote for Ike a second time around. She told me that in high school, and all I could say was, "You voted for a Republican?"

She managed to vote, even when about to give birth. Voting, she impressed on me, is an important American right, and even though she never learned how to drive a car, she got to the voting booth each year.

The Fourth and what it represented to her and my father -- a veteran, who served during the Korean War -- made that a big day in the Richards household.

Of course, it didn't hurt that our home in Waukegan, Ill., faced the direction from where the fireworks erupted. An empty field lay between us and the site; the view was unobstructed.

That meant relatives came by -- a big deal because our home was roughly the size of a toll booth. How six kids and two parents fit into that place boggles my mind.

In summer, it didn't matter because we kids lived outdoors and the backyard was large enough to play tag, statuemaker, 1-2-3 Red Light and other games for which you didn't need controllers. At the risk of sounding like Andy Rooney, I wonder: Does anyone play neighborhood games anymore?

Mom was not adept at cooking; this was a person who boiled steaks. The Fourth was a reprieve because relatives brought chips and potato salad, and we fired up the grill for dogs and burgers.

The pinnacle came at night, when the kids spread out on blankets and the grown-ups sat in lawn chairs and the fireworks began.

They were not, I realize now, spectacular. Not by today's standards. But we oohed, we ahhed and when one was a dud -- no flash, just a spectacular boom -- the boys would cheer and the girls would moan.

When the fireworks ended, so did the party. Cousins piled into cars driven by adults who shouldn't have been driving, but always made it home.

Those Fourths are etched into my memory; time has not dulled them. That was the "Mad Men" era, when the Beatles, Doors, Jackson Five and more blasted over WLS and WCFL. Am I the only one who fondly recalls "In the Year 2525?"

So, here we are, in the year 2014, another Fourth of July. I'll be with my family at a music fest where everyone feels like family. This is our Fourth, our tradition, and we love it.

But when laser lights dance above the stage, I will remember those fireworks in Waukegan. They meant the world to me.
