Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

"I most certainly understand that we are at war. I also understand that the freedoms afforded to all of us in the Constitution were meant specifically for times like these. Our freedoms were carved out during times of strife by people who were facing brutal injustices, and were intended specifically so that this nation would behave differently in such times. If our freedoms crumble exactly when they are needed most, then they were really never freedoms at all." (Jason Halperin, describing a mistaken raid under the PATRIOT act.)

Once again I watched fireworks from a third-floor window instead of trying to get out early to get a seat closer to a show at one gathering or another. Though the weather was rather less muggy than I'd expected, a bout of insomnia last night that left me feeling like I needed Sleep Above All Else late this afternoon when I finally could sleep (for a whopping two hours *grumble*) dictated my plans.

I didn't attempt to photograph any of the fireworks this year, mostly because I never got around to fabricating a window-bracket for my camera and still don't have a good way to get out onto my roof (where I could've used a conventional tripod). But if I'd realized they were going to set off some low-altitude stuff that perfectly framed the cupola of the B&O Railroad Museum (yes, the one where 2/3 of the roof fell in during a snowstorm a few months ago) from my angle, it would've been worth trying to jury-rig something at the last minute so that I could shoot that with a long lens.

I still think while not the most impressive way to compose a fireworks photo, the view from my roof, with a church steeple and trees in the foreground and the railroad museum roof in the middle distance, would be a rather attractive way to frame the fireworks at Baltimore's Inner Harbor (a few miles away). And I still want to borrow a fisheye lens some year to show the several displays simultaneously visible from that window. But this time I contented myself with perching in the open window and watching the shows.

I didn't even try to count the number of distinct displays this time, but I did note that it was fewer than last year (which I pretty much expected). Between that and the added growth of the trees ESE and SE of my house, I didn't get to see quite as much. (I only saw one display visible from the front of the house, but I didn't spend much time looking.) The big display at the harbour was just barely South of East from me. I could see flickers of light through the trees from displays East-Southeast and Southeast, but couldn't tell how many different displays, nor their distances. There was a smallish but long display just barely South of West and not very far away -- it was still going when I closed the window after the end of the main display. And there were a few shows South and South-Southwest of me, at various distances between here and the horizon. Nothing directly Southwest though. And the one small launch nearby to the Northwest. None of the other shows were anywhere near as big or spectacular as the one at the harbour, though some of the ones at the horizon to the South were probably a whole lot more impressive to folks at a reasonable viewing distance to them.

So I perched naked in the window (no neighbours in a direction I had to worry about being seen from) in the warm-but-no-longer-hot, somewhat humid post-rain air, thought about how I should photograph things if I watch from home next year, and mostly just enjoyed the show(s). Watched the city display most of the time, with occasional peeks to see what the folks in other directions were putting up. Very softly sang the one verse I know of "The Star Spangled Banner" ( trivia most Americans know about our national anthem, included in case any of my foreign readers don't know it )

I still hear the occasional report of fireworks/firecrackers in the city -- it's tapered off during the time I've been writing this (I started at 22:00, shortly after the harbour fireworks ended), and some folks probably coming from the harbour have driven by with their car stereos extra loud. (That is, even louder than the usual make-me-want-to-smash-their-cars loud.) But as long as it doesn't go on too terribly long, I'll just chalk it up to a needed release of the all-fired-up feeling they've gotten from the festivities. I'm not feeling all pumped up, 'cause I missed out on the whole crowd-energy thing (one drawback of watching from home, with no company but the cat); I'm feeling more contemplative. And appreciating the Pretty Pretty Fireworks I watched. (I like skyrockets. Always have.)

(I'm not the only one who still uses that definition of "report", am I? The last time I used "report" in a sentence to describe a sound, I confused the Hell out of the 911 operator I was talking to.)

I'm not sure which is the better way for me -- I'm sure I don't need to do the whole mob-scene concerts-and-picnic crowded public gathering thing more than once every several years (though it may be good to be reminded of how it feels to be connected to a large group feeling rah-rah about it once in a while ... as long as the flavour of patriotism being served up doesn't turn jingoistic), but there's a lot to be said for spending the holiday with a small group of friends and dashing out to a fringe viewing spot for a town display (i.e. not Baltimore or Washington -- maybe College Park, Silver Spring, Bowie, Columbia, or maybe even Annapolis) late in the day to watch the fireworks together. I haven't done that in a few years. Or finding a quiet spot to watch the show with a lover (which I've attempted with lovers in the past but never quite pulled of exactly right, timing-wise or finding a good place from which to watch). If I had an easy way onto the roof, so that I wouldn't be trying to crowd a bunch of people into a tiny window, having a few folks over to eat dinner and chat and then watch the fireworks from my house sounds rather pleasant someday. All of those are more fun that just perching in my window alone, but this way gives me more time to think about the holiday, about the spirit and ideals of my nation, about what I love about it and what I wish I could fix.

That kind of quiet contemplation is something I think about more in regard to religious holidays, but in a time when my government is making what I consider to be major -- dangerous -- mistakes at home and abroad (though there was that encouraging Supreme Court decision...), some time to really ponder what's great and what's wrong with my country, is probably a good thing.

And there's the rub: while I don't think my nation is Intrinsically Superior To All Others, nor always automagically right, and lately it's kind of difficult to trust, I do love my country. It's mine. It's my home. It's the culture that shaped me. And more than that, there are a lot of really great things about this land, this people, and this system of government. I remember when I used to see "America: Love It Or Leave It" bumper stickers a lot more often, and my reaction then, as now, was, "America: Love It Enough To Want To Make It Better".

Now to figure out how to do that.

Sounds like we're mostly down to ladyfingers and bottle rockets now, with the occasional screamer, but I still hear the rare deep-voiced boom or pop of something larger and further away.