3 July – 4 July 2001 As expected, the dinner hour found us on the road into Tennessee's oldest town. We managed to find a parking place at the community center. We'll watch the town fireworks from here. There are two folding chairs in the Pathfinder so we can watch in semi-comfort while providing a stationary refueling station for the mosquito populations that live in the grassy area along the creek that runs past the community center toward the library, and then to the downtown area.
I managed to dance the 2nd and 3rd dances with Gloria before opting to return to the gate. As always, dancing with her is a wonderful thing for me. It was good to escape the inevitable door position long enough to actually get the chance to dance with her before my pain meds fall below the optimal therapeutic window and allow my various injuries and arthritic changes to insist that I forgo any further terpsichorean efforts.
It is 2050, and Gloria has been dancing nearly an hour non-stop. We were talking on the way in tonight about missing our ability at younger ages to engage in some activity such as dancing or playing music all night long while retaining the ability to do it all again the next day or week; yet still make it to work on time. (She just dropped out of the lines to rest at 2055)
After the dance, we set up chairs to watch the fireworks. Fireworks are always iffy for me. I returned from VietNam with a dislike of crowds and hatred for things that whistle/scream across the sky before detonating overhead. Even today, there are times when neighbors’ targeting shots cause me to look for the source of danger. I joke about Loki and firearms; I’m equally easily put on guard.
Within two weeks of our marriage, we went to the D.C. fireworks display on the Mall. Crowds and loud explosions on a huge scale. I’d most likely never have ventured into that event but for Gloria. There was a short round that night, one of the propellant charges failed in some manner that put the projectile over us and far too low. She didn’t laugh when I flattened out. It is difficult to describe the extreme level of trust she generated in me in those few seconds. It has grown ever stronger and deeper over the last 19 years. .
The Jonesborough display lasted about 20 minutes. The hollow sound of mortars launching the aerial bombs always takes me back in time. That sound was all too often followed by blast and shrapnel damage. I’ve gradually become accustomed to the sound and can tolerate it at most local shows. The finale last night got a bit intense as we were positioned directly under the detonation area. I got a bit of flashback to a few nights when we were calling in artillery almost on top of our positions. The relatively short finale duration was helpful in maintaining temporal awareness.
I find myself wondering how Iraq and Afghanistan veterans are dealing with the fireworks problem.
Our neighbor, Mike, is back from N. Carolina.
Dinner tonight will be sautéed or grilled scallops, mushrooms, onions, peppers, and quinoa.
We're thinking about some sort of bumper sticker to voice opposition to Roe's re-election. The incident yesterday, with local women telling Gloria that she couldn't yell, “No Roe!” during the parade indicates how poorly local people, and for that matter most American voters, understand that the 1st Amendment provides for the legal protection of political opinion voiced in a public forum. Roe, of course, is all too happy to nourish and encourage that confusion.
I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the 4th of July than to work for the election of someone to replace Roe as congressperson for the 1st Tennessee district. We’re going to have to investigate Democratic Party politics in the district. I find little more to recommend the Democrat’s party politics than that of the GOP. However, the GOP/teavangelist pairing is the most despicable party we have yet to see in mainstream American politics. It must be stopped and it will have to stopped at local levels.
No More Roe!
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