Litte Yandi,
This next story is about your Uncle Jordan and the time he planned a Fourth of July get together. It includes your dad and all of the rest of us, fireworks and chaos. Pretty much like our Fourth of July get togethers now, but with a little more pandemonium (if that’s even possible)…….
Enjoy! Mimi
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The year is 1994. The place is our backyard. This is a place where many of our stories originate from. And this story is no different in that it involves my entire family including my dad and brothers along with their families as well my husband, kids, and chaos.
It’s the 4th of July which means somebody is probably going to get hurt. Now if you are a member of our family and it’s a family gathering it doesn’t take fireworks to mean that somebody’s going to get hurt because it’s pretty much a constant in our family get-togethers.
Our family characters (apt description there) are as follows:
- My husband and kids:
- Jordan (6) – our youngest son and the main character in the story
- Jason (11) – our oldest son
- Chris – my husband
- Allison – me
- My dad, brothers, and their families:
- Ed (also known as Papa) – my dad
- Peggy – my Stepmom
- Matt – the middle brother
- Mark – our oldest brother
- Monica – Mark’s wife
- Megan (3) – Mark’s oldest daughter
For the first time ever, our youngest son, little Jordan, wants to be the organizer of this event. He’s too young and too innocent to understand that there is very little appreciation or credit for being the organizer. He just knows he has a few ideas, he loves our family, and he most especially loves it when everybody is together. And in simple words, he is a complete sweetheart.
He is a sweetheart living with a family who are real rascals. But he is also in a family that can laugh at itself (kind of) as well as laugh at each other (absolutely). So, little Jordan has prepared for this event. He has even drawn out a diagram of how this is going to go down. He has…a plan.
We have a basketball court on one side of our backyard that has goals on both ends. I’m sure it’ll show up in other stories at some point or another because a lot of fun times and injuries have been recorded on said basketball court. It’s where my dad earned the nickname ‘Cannonball Eddie,’ but that’s a story for another day.
This court was a gift to our oldest son Jason from his Grandpa Bill and Grandma Marge. Jason loved basketball and Grandpa Bill and Grandma Marge loved Jason. Mix that all together and basketball court is in the cards.
Why a court you ask? Why not a new basketball or some named brand shoes or something like that? Well, Grandpa Bill was in concrete, so a court was the only answer. He had that concrete truck pouring concrete on the exact day and at the exact time, he said he would. He was a giving, funny yet intense fellow. And his guys poured when he told them to pour. And through that gift, he and Grandma Marge ended up giving all of us, not only a court to play basketball on, but a great spot to hold family events for years to come. Make no mistake, without Grandpa Bill and Grandma Marge, there is no court because, at this point in our lives, Chris and I are young, broke, as well as lacking in the discipline and handling skills of finances. To this day I am still grateful for their generosity and the memories that have were created as a result.
So back to our current story. Jordan is planning this Fourth of July family get-together and has gone as far as to have drawn out where everybody is going to sit. That’s right. Seating assignments. He is very precise. He’s also drawn out where the fireworks will be shot off from for a minimum safe distance, not yet understanding that safety has never been a priority for this family. Not even a thought. But he loves us, and he wants to keep us safe, and he doesn’t want injuries on his own little body. Corporate America would love Jordan. Safety first!
This safety plan includes a water hose assignment for someone who will be appointed to hold/manage the hose. I kid you not. If something should go terribly awry, the hose would be running throughout the evening for the safety of all the participants. One flick of a wrist and water would be flowing freely. Again, Jordan took safety seriously.
Now you must realize that Jordan is living in a family with Ed (introduced earlier and known to Jordan as Papa), who in 1971 had his seven-year-old daughter climb onto the top of a train car (yes, a real train) as we were walking home from visiting my grandmother one day. His truck wouldn’t start but we were only about five miles away from home. So, he decided a nice walk home was in order. And as you can likely tell, I’m the seven-year-old daughter here.
Now there is a train track that traverses a lot of the route from Grandma’s house to home. Since Ed (again, my dad and Jordan’s grandpa) is a long-time train lover and he once worked on the railroad as a young man, this is an added bonus. This particular track crosses the Arkansas River at one point. To a seven-year-old, this was extremely exciting to take the track across the river. I mean what if a train is coming? Crazy exciting!
But to make it even more exciting, after we were across the river, we climbed on top of a stationary train. We walked the length of the first car (again, on TOP of the train car) and came to its end. So, my dad, whose unspoken motto was “Excitement over Safety,” asked if I wanted to try to jump from the top of one train car to another train car. This particular stationary train was a really long train with lots and lots of train cars. The kind you’ve been caught by when you’re late to work. That one.
If I can make the jump, then we will be able to walk a good portion of the trip home, on top of the train and who doesn’t want to do that? Exciting? YES! Safe? Not even close.
Now, I don’t know what the distance is between those train cars, but I can remember at seven years old it seemed enormous. Google tells me it’s around 4 feet 8-1/2 inches. Then the comment, on Google says something like, ‘an exceedingly odd number.’
You got that right Google. Exceedingly odd and as wide as the Grand Canyon to a seven-year-old. And I, like six-year-old Jordan, understood that my safety was at stake and declined the invitation from my dad, who would have let me try. He accepted my decision easily enough, and we climbed down and walked the rest of the way beside the train while Dad talked about his days of old, working for the railroad. Cool memory.
Understand this, he was a GREAT Dad. Did he want me to try? Probably. Would he have let me? I think so, though honestly, I’m not really sure. But there was no pressure at all. He put the proposal out there and let me make the call. When I decided not to, no disappointment or pushing. Just a laugh and a quick hug, and we climbed back down. Easy and fun. That was my dad.
So, back to this day, in 1994, our little Jordan doesn’t realize yet that this guy named Ed is part of the family and does not really concern himself with safety. Safety? Where are the fireworks and the lighter?
A few years after this, the newest addition to our family, Morgan would fully grasp our family’s complete lack of concern for safety. When she would come to our house for fireworks, she would take herself indoors and cuddle with our dog, Katie. They both knew our family and fireworks, well, that’s not a combination you want to be around. Way smarter than their ages.
However, on this day, as mentioned earlier, joining this get-together is Little Jordan’s big brother Jason, who is eleven years old. Like most at that age, he is completely fascinated with anything that involves fire and fireworks. He’s a lot like his Papa (Ed). Then you throw in my husband Chris who, when it comes to fireworks, has no fear. Along for the ride may have been his cousin Megan who was game for anything and who is also likely missing the safety DNA sequence that all family members lack. And finally, his uncles, Mark, and Matt (my brothers). All of us have a history of many chaotic Fourth of Julys.
For example, growing up my dad used to sometimes take the three of us (Mark, Matt, and Allison) down to Campus High School in Haysville KS., on the Fourth of July. We all had these huge packages of fireworks. My dad and mom knew how to do fireworks. They would buy each one of us our own big family pack. Let me say that again – one for each of the kids. Family. Pack. And then they’d buy extra bottle rockets. A lot of bottle rocks. Only the greatest firework ever invented in my opinion.
So, Dad would take us down to Campus High School every fourth of July and we’d shoot off all our fireworks and that was an event. But then we’d get out the bottle rockets and that was our grand finale. That was IT! We would shoot bottle rockets at each other without reprimanding from our parents. Well, Mom may not have completely approved but as I recall she would sometimes get into the mix, and it was game on! When Mom was in, it was to win. Her and my dad played intense scrabble games and it was always something to watch. She taught me how to play when I was six and I did not win even one game against her until I was fifteen years old! There was no Y-ball with Eloise (which I loved about her). When you beat her, you knew you earned it. I still remember that day and knowing that I was the bomb now! I had beat my mom! And even after that, it never came easy when I won (which admittedly wasn’t often). She was an amazing Mom and not afraid to jump into all kinds of situations.
Concerning fireworks, she might have preferred going to the big firework shows but the rest of us, well, not so much. We would because Mom liked it, but our preference was the good stuff. By good stuff I mean, fireworks we could shoot at each other. I cannot tell you how much chaos, danger, and wonderful memories were experienced and created in those days. I don’t know how many times bottle rockets landed in entire boxes of fireworks and BOOM; the whole thing exploded. At least once and probably twice. And to this day I am a believer in THAT is what the Fourth of July is about.
I can also remember my dad taking us down to the Ninnescah River where we would shoot off fireworks and swim. Great, great times with a great Mom and Dad.
But I digress as I often do. We’re talking about little Jordan trying to keep safe a family who lacks complete common sense when it comes to those things.
On this day, however, not only has Jordan assigned us seating and safety protocols but he’s also put together the menu. We had hamburgers and hot dogs and all those things that are always fun on the Fourth of July. We also had ice cream and sprinkles and cherries so everyone could have an ice cream sundae. I think we might have even bought some of those glass ice cream cups that are angled so you can make ice cream sundaes in them. Jordan was serious about not only the safety but the food. What’s not to like in that kid?
So, everybody arrives and the fun begins. Uncles, Aunts, Grandma’s, Grandpa’s, Cousins. And everyone is a really good sport about sitting in their assigned seats and performing assigned duties.
Again, to help the family confusion, the breakdown is this:
Our Family: Chris (My husband), Me (Allison), eleven-year-old Jason, and six-year-old Jordan.
Dad’s Family: Ed (My dad and Jordan’s Grandpa), Peggy (My wonderful stepmom)
My Oldest Brother’s Family: Mark (my brother), Monica (My sister-in-law), four-year-old Megan (My niece)
The Next Oldest Brother: Matt (My brother)
So, we shoot off fireworks, eat food, and have a wonderful time. We do the usual fireworks, something like parachutes, snakes, smoke bombs, and some Saturn missiles while it’s still light outside. Patiently, we all wait for the dark in which we can embrace the chaos. It’s actually more organized than normal because Jordan is commanding this ship with the aforementioned plan. And everyone loves Jordan enough not to want to blow up his hard work (pun absolutely intended). So, we take turns shooting off fireworks so everybody can watch and follow Jordan’s agenda.
But the dark finally comes. All the daytime and nighttime fireworks have been set off except for a few of the grand finales. We’re all in our seats at the back of the basketball court as assigned. Uncle Matt gets to hold the hose in case of fire, which to be honest is a sharp contrast to our life growing up. For whatever reason, growing up, only Mark (our oldest brother) got to hold the hose. We were never able to figure out why. When you look at pictures from back then you see:
- Mark holding hose (Mark and hose clearly in the picture)
- Mark holding the hose (Matt and I standing next to him)
- Mark holding the hose (Matt is clearly in the picture, half of me is cut off in the picture)
- Mark holding the hose (Matt is half in the picture, I’m nowhere in the picture)
- Mark holding the hose (Matt’s arm or leg blurry in the picture)
- Mark holding the hose (Matt and I are halfway in the picture in the back and very blurry)
Like that. But anyway, Mark is always holding the hose. It’s been a family controversy for years as to why Matt and I never got to hold the hose. My Dad assured us we did get to hold the hose but there are no memories or pictures of it. Not one. So, Matt and I both agree it’s suspect. But again, back to the story.
We’re all in our seats and Matt is holding the hose (take that Mark!). Apparently, Jordan had confidence in assigning this duty to his Uncle Matt. Very bold. Sitting at the back of the court is Dad who is right in the middle and the rest of us, again in assigned seating, are spread out next to Dad on both sides of him. If memory serves, Jason is lighting this grand finale. If it was big and went boom, it’s always a safe bet that Jason is in the middle of it. Jason brings the fun. He always has.
Now, with our type of fun, stress is sometimes riding shotgun, but that’s how we roll and Jason embraces both aspects of that.
We are all overly excited as a good bit of money has gone into this grand finale. And you must understand this is a cheap, cheap family. The word frugal is a little too light to explain many in this family. But when it comes to fireworks all bets are off. A good bit of money actually is spent. That should tell you how excited we are, as we’ve invested money that we usually hold on to very tightly, and it’s in fireworks, which we love, and it’s the grand finale, which we eagerly anticipate as we sit in our assigned seating.
So, Jason is lighting the grand finale which in and of itself should have been a sign. Again, as I’ve mentioned, Jason lived life on his own terms and usually, those were wild and chaotic and fun terms. Anything goes. But Jason did nothing wrong this day. The firework had been set up by Chris, Jason had the lit punk and he was ready to go. Now this was one of those 8 or 10 or 12 shot grand finales. So, we were anticipating Nirvana.
The time has come. Jason, holding his punk with a steady hand of confidence, lights the grand finale. As we watch from our assigned seating at the back of the basketball court, the first volley is away. Sharp light. Color. Lots and lots of color. A strong gun powder smell fills the air instantly. Noise. BOOM! Crack, BOOM! God bless America, this was what it was about. I’m amazed we didn’t all stand up and salute.
However, what we don’t realize as we’re watching the first grand finale firework explode in the sky, is that when the first one went off, the entire firework fell over on its side or part of the side blew out. Not sure which. So instead of pointing skyward, it’s now pointing at all of us who are sitting and screaming and yelling and clapping in our assigned seats, our faces stretched toward the stars.
And what’s more, is, I guess since it was on its side it was lighting more than one at a time. As in the fire is spreading rapidly. Too rapidly and not as planned by:
- The Manufacturer of the fireworks
- The group watching the fireworks
- The Safety Director and Event Coordinator, six-year-old Jordan.
Did I mention it is now pointing at us? But we don’t know this because we’re looking at the sky. However, after a bit of a pause, we look again at the firework, and because it’s dark we still do not realize it’s laying on its side. So, we are waiting for the next one with pure anticipation, still clapping and yelling for the show to continue.
We are not disappointed as what a spectacular show it is.
I suspect it shot off two or three at a time for the next few presentations. Right. At. Us. It exploded right by our heads, right by our feet, right by our arms and legs, and the word frenzy comes to mind. We all barreled out of our chairs, climbing over each other, pushing each other out of the way, running over children, tripping over dogs who also were scurrying, all of us trying to get to safety. I don’t think Matt did much with the hose as he dropped it and like the rest of us, ran over anyone in his way to get to safety.
Fireworks are going, smoke is everywhere, the grass is on fire, people are screaming, people are running, children are yelling, plates and drinks are strewn everywhere as people dropped those items in their haste to vacate their seating assignments, dogs are barking, and lawn chairs litter the back of the yard resting on their sides and skewed everywhere.
We all get to safety on the other side of the yard and look back at what is left. There are still a few more volleys of fireworks to go and sitting calmly in his lawn chair at the back of the yard is Ed. My dad. He never moves.
Now I don’t know if it was just because he had nerves of steel or if it was the comfort, he took in the hose that was lying next to him that had been dropped by Matt in his haste to get to safety. But his hair is standing on end, and we later see he has a few black marks on his face. I don’t know if he was hit by a firework or how his face got those black marks, but he is a sight to see and he is perfectly calm as the rest of us stand in safety and watch the final volleys of the grand finale.
But watching the show is difficult because we are laughing. The bent over and try not to wet your pants type of laughter. We are talking over each other (admittedly nothing new in that) and watching Dad, who still sits calmly in his seat, even with his hair standing straight up.
Everyone is laughing, except for little Jordan.
Little Jordan, who is visibly upset by the chaos that has ensued from the party he has planned. Crushed by the unplanned disaster.
Six-year-old Jordan who is much too young to yet understand that he had provided us with one of the absolute best evenings of our lives.
Little Jordan who ended the evening in his little six-year-old voice saying, ‘he didn’t even use the hose!’ in outrage over Matt who never even thought about the water hose while fleeing to safety.
Perhaps Dad knew exactly what he was about all those decades ago in letting only Mark hold the water hose. Mark had a specific set of skills and the experience. And on this night, in the Siler backyard, if only Matt had remembered the hose. If only.
