Bang, You're a Grown-Up

When I was a teenager growing up in Arkansas, we had a fireworks stand for a few summers.  It was an interesting experience, particularly because I got to keep a substantial part of the profits in return for my work managing the enterprise.  To stock the hut required a 5-hour drive round-trip across the Oklahoma border to a warehouse in Tulsa.  I would sit in an aluminum, webbed lawn chair in the back of our '76 gold, snub-nose Dodge cargo van, the floor of which was lined with green astro-turf, while Dad drove and his first cousin sat in the passenger seat.  No seatbelts, no stability.  Those were the days. 

Despite the present dangers, I'll never forget the smell of the fireworks, a mix of sulfur and cheap paper, as they surrounded me in the back of the van during the ride back to Springdale.  To this day, a mere whiff of a brick of Black Cat firecrackers instantly snaps me back to 1979, the humid Arkansas summers, the Izod polo shirts, Ocean Pacific jeans and hair.  Lots of it, hair that is, in natural golden curls that were the celebrated envy of every female member of my large family.  Mostly, though, I'll always remember how mature I felt.  My status as the geeky kid, for whom there was never enough "room in the boat" to go with Dad and his cousin on fishing excursions, was changing to that of colleague. 

In the months following the final summer that we had a fireworks stand, just before my senior year in high school, I was handed the keys to the cargo van and told it was mine.  It certainly came in handy during my role as drum major to cart around instruments and various marching-band paraphernalia.  Affectionately called the "Wayne-mobile"--I used my given name when in school, for I was picked on enough and didn't need my gender-neutral, family assigned nickname to provide further ammo to the bullies--the van became part of my identity.  Yes, indeed, we had joy; we had fun; we had seasons in the sun.  And although I've completely lost touch with her, I have no doubt that my high-school girlfriend still hasn't forgiven me for refusing to carry a blanket in the van.  Ouch.

Comments

[John]

Thanks for sharing the interesting fireworks memory! Are you back to AZ? Should we switch to other blog?

[The Mutant]

Would you beleive I've never had the chance to experience a home-made fireworks show.

I plan to remedy that soon though... Canberra: Here I come!

And what possible need would you have for a blamket in a van? Was that in case you had furniture to shift that you didn't want to get damaged???

[Pam]

Honey child, you missed it last night! Good God. These Arkies are nuts w/ their 'crac-uhs'. I crashed at 10pm and it was still going strong. Can anyone say "City Ordinance"? Guess not.

Kisses,
Mama

[urspo]

I miss sparklers
I know they were inane but I rather enjoyed them.