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About Us
A July 4th Story with a BANG!
Back in the late 1970's, Amy and I were at a July 4th party at an
enormous wooden barracks of a beach house on the ocean in Westhampton
Beach. The house had been rented by “groupers,” not the species of fish,
but a group of people, usually young and single, who rent a big house
together and turn it into a non-stop party, at least on the weekends
when they are not working at the high-pressure jobs that enable them to
pay the exorbitant Hamptons summer rentals.
The owners of the
house must have either hated sand or loved boardwalks because the house
had an enormous deck that was about as wide as a four lane highway on
the side that faced the ocean and ran the entire length of the house. We
had just arrived, but through the sliding glass doors we could see that
there were about twenty or thirty people outside shooting off
fireworks, not little firecrackers or roman candles, but the biggest
rockets I had ever seen up close. Each one looked like a star-spangled
coffee can mounted at the top of a wooden yardstick and must have
contained at least five pounds of explosives.
Fireworks are
illegal in New York State, but these were not fireworks, they were
explosive devises and would have been illegal anywhere in the world
except in a war zone. There were over a dozen of them somehow stuck into
the cracks between the boards of the deck, looking like a fence of
noon-whistles, except that when they blew, a trail of sparks shot out
and they went straight up, making huge bangs and impressive explosions
of color. Some even had smaller fireworks that would rain down in
ever-changing patterns. Like most men I know, the sight and sound and
the smell hypnotized me.
As I put up my hand to open the sliding
door between the fun and me, Amy suddenly cried out "Don't go out
there!" It brought me out of my latest trance but back into the primeval
male trance that happens when we are told not to do something because
it might be a tad risky. I sternly pointed out that there was a crowd
out there already, men and women, and that it appeared that basic safety
rules were being obeyed, meaning that no one was spinning themselves
around with a lit blowtorch in their hands, but Amy would have none of
it. She actually stood in front of the door to stop me, saying that she
had a bad feeling about my going out there. She had never acted like
that before and I was not secure enough to just say the two words that
every woman wants to hear more than any other words, "Yes, dear." I have
since learned my lesson and become a leading spokesman for "The Very
Loyal Order of Yes, Dear," though she tells me I am anything but
obedient.
Back then, there was still some sanity left in me,
though not much, and I did stop my forward progress toward the door.
However, after a few minutes of puzzled stares and calls to come
outside, we resumed our heated debate. I made the manly decision to do
the manly (read "stupid") thing, and out I went, followed by my worried
wife still trying to get me to come back inside the empty house, but I
was not having any of it. I was too transfixed watching the next rocket
get lit. Up it went until it arched off its course ever so slightly and
exploded into fiery dandelion heads.
When I looked down, they
were lighting the next one, but this one was apparently the most
powerful of the lot. It seemed to go up and up and it was still going up
when it should have exploded, or so I thought. Actually, it had gone
straight up to the proper height but the fuse for the explosive part of
the rocket was too long and the fireworks had not been ignited when the
part of the rocket designed to propel it high into the air had burned
itself out.
Suddenly, we all realized to our horror that the rocket had started
falling straight down and pointed at the deck we were standing on! It
shot right down the back of my head missing me by an inch, if that, and
down my back showering sparks from the mercifully partial ignition of
the main explosive, making me seem to be wearing a Native American
Chief's headdress made of flying fire, not feathers, and the yardstick
tail stuck straight up in the deck.
I happen to be an incredibly
lucky person and I truly believe that I am protected from harm by
others and from my own stupidity by forces that I can only assume want
me to continue to teach people how to get in touch with their own power.
I can't think of any other reason that my life has been spared so many
times. This rocket could have been the last thing I ever saw, but a miss
is as good as a mile and it missed. The only thing hurt was my pride
because needless to say, Amy’s first words were "I told you not to go
out." However, she was right and I learned my lesson and I have never
not listened to her intuitions about dangerous situations again. |
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