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Over the Back Fence By HANK HENRY '36 Fourth was one to cherish By HANK HENRY I was 13 years old and in junior high back in my hometown when I had the most exciting Independence Day of my life. The year was 1936. The Depression had been going for seven years. There were few good surprises for most people in those Depression years, so the 25 kids in my junior high home room were thrilled when one of the students invited all of us to come to his home for an old-fashioned celebration on the night of July the Fourth. The kid's father bottled Coca-Cola in my hometown of Austin, and was thus not really affected by the Depression. We knew the family through our church, so my parents gave me permission to attend the party. It was the first time I had been invited to an event involving the whole class. I always sat in the back row and never volunteered to answer the teacher's questions. The home was near the top of a hill, a rambling Elizabethan-style house with five or six bedrooms. It was not as ornate as you might have expected the house of a rich man to be. Our host directed us to the huge back yard, where we found a mound of fireworks on a table and buckets of water placed in strategic areas. "Kids," he said, "I want this to be a night you will remember for a long time." Then he had his son give each guest three skyrockets -- tubes about two feet long with fuses at one end. Each contained half a dozen charges that would fly 100 feet into the sky and then explode in a rush of sound and color. All of us took our fireworks through the back yard and into a plowed field. "Always aim your skyrockets away from the house," the father said. "Remember that the buckets of water are there to be used in case something catches fire, although there isn't much to burn out in this field." It was an exhilarating evening. Soon many of the residents from blocks around joined us in the field, as skyrockets were not a normal sight in a residential area. Looking back some 63 years, I probably remember that evening with a brighter glow than it may have had. But there were few enchanting events in most people's lives then. Can you imagine something like that happening these days -- 25 kids, each with three skyrockets! Police and firefighters and who knows who else would stream to the scene after the first ball of fire lit up the sky. Fireworks are far more tightly controlled than they were 60 years ago. But even with all the regulations, fireworks caused 152 fires in 1998 in Oregon alone. Eighty-one people were injured in the fires, which caused damages valued at $257,000. Decades ago many of the injuries were caused by heavy-duty fireworks. Today most injuries are burns from sparklers. Some fireworks wholesalers have joined a voluntary ban against sparklers in Oregon. Next Sunday we will celebrate America's Declaration of Independence. Since July 4, 1776, Americans have marked the day with parades, band concerts, ringing political speeches, family picnics and fireworks. I have read that more fireworks are exploded on that day than all the rest of the days of the year. Many cities in Oregon, including Medford, have banned all fireworks outright. Within the city limits nary an exploding device can be found, (at least not legally). But just outside the city limits, fireworks stands blossom like wildflowers around the end of June. People "import" fireworks, too. Many years ago, we knew a man who would return from every vacation in the Eastern states with a sackful of explosive devices that weren't sold here. Among the things he brought back for his children were large pinwheels -- cardboard circles that sported several small flame-spewing rockets. They made enough noise to sound like a jet plane roaring down the runway, and the little rockets spun the wheel 'round and 'round until it seemed that the whole tree would leave the ground. A few decades ago, people began to lobby their state legislators and city councils and laws were eventually written to ban the most dangerous devices. That's why few kids now will have the thrill of shooting off powerful skyrockets, which is a good thing. But as that boy's father said so many years ago, it was a night to remember. (Hank Henry is a retired Jackson County commissioner and a former radio and television announcer. Call him at 772-9055.) Prime Times front page Mail Tribune front page Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA