Pair-A-Dice Lost

There's more to Fourth of July celebrations here in Minnesota than just fireworks.

There are flags displayed in front yards, grills set up for traditional cookouts, and mosquitoes. Lots of mosquitoes. The little bloodsuckers aren't good fliers, so the windy weather we had this week keeps them grounded. Except in sheltered spots.

I spent a Fourth of July weekend with friends at a place like that once, a few years back. It was a little patch of water and weeds that might be called a lake in dryer states.

We were staying at a secluded place someone had called "Pair-A-Dice." The owner had set a couple of concrete cubes at the end of the drive. One had five indentations on all five of its visible faces, the other had two on each.

We'd have had more fun, I think, if there had been some wind. Any wind. A light breeze would have helped.

It wasn't particularly hot, maybe 85, but it was humid. Thick. Near-ideal flying conditions for mosquitoes. By late afternoon we'd gone through our supply of insect repellant, and the mosquitoes were closing in.

Someone - we couldn't decide, later, whose bright idea it was - said that mosquitoes don't like smoke. So we should build a fire, and put wet wood on it. The smoke discouraged the mosquitoes: but it wasn't doing us any good, either. With a couple hours left before sunset, eyes bloodshot and skin itching, we conceded defeat and surrendered Pair-A-Dice to the mosquitoes.

July Fourth Memories

It's good to be back. I spent a few days last week at the 'vacation' house of a friend of mine, and did a bit of mowing and fixing while I was there.

While I was not watching television or surfing the Web, I started thinking about July Fourth celebrations I'd been at, or heard about.

Oakwood, just down the road, puts on a fine Independence Day fireworks display. When I was growing up, the family would go there every year, say 'OOH,' 'AAH,' swat mosquitoes and, sometimes, listen to my father tell about his teen years and the Foggton July Fourth fireworks show that ended early.

As he told it, that Independence Day had started with a heavy overcast, so that by the time the display was supposed to start, around local sunset, it was already quite dark. Then it started to drizzle on the people in River Park.

The organizers should probably have canceled right then. The drizzle hadn't dampened people's spirits (sorry: I couldn't resist that), but it had a bad effect on the fireworks. The mortars should have been lobbing shells high above the crowd. Instead, fiery flowers were going off so low that hot, glowing pieces were hitting the ground.

Then one of those flash-and-bang shells shot up, fell back, hit the ground and exploded.

My father says the people in front of him stood out like black cutouts for a moment. It was as if a lightning bolt had struck.

That ended the show.