I must admit the Fourth of July festivities have caused us to address burning debris on roofs and anxiety for pets. But noise? It’s a celebration for our freedom.
Every time I hear a firecracker or a bottle rocket or some sky-screaming burst of lights, it reminds me of those who experienced that “noise” in a different environment. Of those who were on the receiving end of a cannon or musket blast in 1776; or 1812; or 1847; or 1863. Or from the cracking rifles, bombs and tanks in 1917 or 1942. And, in addition to the usual fireworks of war, what about the blasts of ridicule heaped on our finest in 1971?
When I hear that firecracker at midnight from my bed, I don’t think nuisance, I think appreciation.
Appreciation that it’s not live shells and mortars.
Appreciation for that individual somewhere in Afghanistan right now who just heard a louder pop.
And I offer a prayer that they’re still alive to come home and have the opportunity to light a firecracker at midnight. And a special prayer for the families of those who will never again celebrate the freedom they just died to protect.
I think I can sacrifice a couple hours of sleep.