Some Get a Kick From Champagne.
I do not care for fireworks—nay, they terrify me. Partly this is due to an episode of Lassie I saw as an impressionable youth in which Timmy befriended a little boy who had been blinded by fireworks, and partly this is merely due, in my opinion, to common sense. One cannot control whether one is blown to smithereens by a bomb, land-mine, or similar, but surely refraining from detonating explosives and/or willingly being present when others detonate explosives for sport is a small, sensible measure we can all take to prolong our time on earth.
Yesterday, a colleague of mine regaled me with stories of girlhood summers spent setting off bottle rockets and otherwise inviting bodily harm in honor of Independence Day. She seemed surprised to hear that I had never played with fireworks. And actually, that is not entirely true—I once held a sparkler for a moment, until the sparkling really got under way and I handed it to someone else to avoid pesky burns.
Scott is always taunting me about having been a “bizarre child,” merely because my seven-year-old self didn’t enjoy fireworks, parades, amusement parks, diving, handsprings, baseball, Pop Rocks, or other dangerous endeavors.
“I had fun as a kid,” I insist huffily during one such conversation, “We used to have a marvelous time, my brother and I!” Scott asks what we used to do that was so diverting, and I say “Oh, lots of things! We pulled taffy, and picked apples, and once we went to a sort of quarry where you could look for amethyst!
Pulling taffy, picking apples, and working in an amethyst mine do not impress him as the hallmarks of a carefree childhood—or at least that is what I deduce from the tears of laughter sliding down his cheeks as he hoots unattractively and clutches his sides. I am glad I didn’t tell him about my favorite pastime of all, which was building my rock collection by chipping rocks out of the blacktop with a crochet hook.
I was in day care all day every summer until I was twelve, and found myself on a number of field trips to fairs and theme parks, where I endured the derisive cajoling of my contemporaries until they gave up on convincing me to try the Plunge of Death, Vomit Peak, etc., leaving me to enjoy the one ride I really loved: the carousel.
Roller coasters are against the code I live by: Don’t Borrow Trouble. Surely there is enough that can go wrong in a person’s life without the addition of needless thrill-seeking. Why not just read a nice book? Unlike roller coasters, books do not require a protective harness, and you will avoid having to say “Well, of course I’m disappointed by my newfound paraplegia, but those seven minutes of exhilaration and mild nausea sure were worth it!”
Life is full of routine risks and gambles—air travel, for instance, or infertility treatment, or love—and the compulsion to add more is one I have never understood. Maybe I am missing the gene that would cause me to enjoy bungee jumping or the Tilt-A-Whirl, but I don’t mind. Have you ever pulled taffy? It’s a good time, I promise.
10 Comments
Taffy-pulling IS a good time! Of course you’re talking to a girl who went digging for her own diamonds in a mine in Arkansas. Yep, no pithy amethysts for me!
However, I must disagree with you on one point: some books do indeed require a harness…a mental one. Mila 18 comes to mind. Some books are so painful or so emotional that sometimes I have to put them down and go do something else. Knowledge can be dangerous; I have to be careful to know whether or not I can live with what I’ve read.
Did we have the same childhood? I’m exactly the same way, and the hallmarks of my upbringing are centered around The Laura Ingalls Wilder series, and getting to know Trixie Belden (Nancy Drew was too white-bread for me!). Adam finds all of this HILARIOUS, of course, because apparently he walked much more on the wild side than I did.
I also have some particularly fond memories of baking cookies and visiting quarries and planting gardens! And um, those are still my favorite things to do.
Long live the risk-averse lifestyle.
I’m with you! No sense inviting trouble!
I have my hesitations about fireworks too, albeit for a different reason. As I recently explained to my baffled husband, growing up during the Cold War left me nervous about explosions, and ever since I was a kid, I have thought that if I wanted to start a war all sneaky-like, I would totally bomb the bejesus out of the USA during a fireworks displays, because by the time the audience figured out what was happening, they would be vaporized. Nowadays, I guess it would be terrorists doing that. And yes, I am morbid and paranoid, why do you ask?
I have to admit I love fireworks. We go to the county fireworks in the park and enjoy them every year with a picnic. But we sit “far from the madding crowd” up on a little hill, so we can easily see the fireworks in the sky but are not close enough to risk life and limb. More because we don’t like madding crowds than for safety, but it also is safer. I remember once a firework got loose at my town fireworks and went right into the crowd. That put a damper on things.
I am with you, however, on eschewing scary rides. I like the carousel as well!
I remember that Lassie episode quite well and 40+ years later I too am dubious about playing with explosives… I mean fireworks.
I agree! Esp about the tilt a whirl (or gag-o-matic as I like to think of it). Why is getting so sick you *almost* puke something fun to do, something worth paying money and waiting in line for? Rollar coasters I at least understand the thrill, but circular puke machines? Not so much. (Don’t even ask me about the Tea Cup ride at Disney!). Re exploding things for fun, doesn’t help that I grew up around a boy who lost an ENTIRE ARM to a homemade explosive thingamajig he was trying to build in his garage! I *did* do sparklers as a kid, but I had to hold the very end at arm’s length, which gets old FAST.
Reading, splashing in a pool (which was shorter than I so no real nead to *swim*), watching countless reruns on TV, and ocassional road-trips (doing activities that even senior citizens would approve of….)with the folks were how I spent summer breaks!
Yellowgirl
I’m with you. Scary upsidedown rollercoasters? Jumping from airplanes? Lighting roman candles and exploding blockbusters in garbage cans? Not so much. I’ve never pulled taffy, but I did have a humdinger of a rock collection. (For the record, colorful fireworks never bothered me–as long as they were far, far off in the distance. Like on the other side of the river.) Fortunately, however, Vikingboy is sort of a danger-nerd too, so I don’t get too much abuse about my not-so-exciting childhood.
i used to be waaaayyy more daring. i love your blog…but you and i would not have been friends as little ones. i was always jumping off of some high place or riding a horse or climbing up something. everyday.
now, i am afraid of all things risky. when did that happen? in fact, i spend a significant amount of time planning my escape from where ever i am. (hey, you never know when a gun-toting mad man will come running!) but this is probably something i should share with my therapist.
you aren’t as risk adverse as you might think….IVF is tres risky!
Complete opposite here too. I don’t think fireworks did too much for me because um, whoo, colors and all that but more things like bad boys and motorcycles and yes, rollercoasters (hey - ivf 8 times, y’know?) - yep - I think I actually asked risk out for a drink and got turned down. Had no fear, because I didn’t care. Nice, huh?
Anyhoo - loooooovvveeeeellllyyyyy apartment - just gorgeous.