Dogs, Fireworks . . .
And loving our neighbors
I have a complicated relationship with Independence Day—July 4.
Without a doubt, I am humbled and honored to be an American. My ancestors came here on the Mayflower, according to a family Bible, at least. Our Bible could be way off, but I’m claiming it, so there.
On Independence Day, I’ll pull out my phone and call up various Armed Forces hymns, the late Toby Keith’s American Soldier—more. Even Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the USA.
Memories of past celebrations flood over me. Of watching fireworks as a kid. Playing in the “July 4 Firecracker Scramble” golf tournament at our golf club when I was in my teens and twenties. Our neighborhood get togethers in Alabama, where our home was within shouting distance of where the city of Opelika shot off fireworks at Opelika High School.
And now, more memories. Our July 3 Freedom Fest in Hendersonville, TN. Buying fireworks at one of 184 makeshift tents which pop up around us in late June.
I love it all (except finding a good parking spot at Freedom Fest. Another column for another day.).
And yet . . .
Our beloved dachshund Aubie is not a fan. Perhaps it is because he’s German. He cannot grasp John Adams’ letter to his wife Abigail on July 3, 1776, when the future president hoped that July 4 would be celebrated “With Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.”
The “illuminations” part is where Aubie struggles. He does not like fireworks—at all.
Our neighborhood apparently believes July 4 begins at the end of June. At that point, blasts start after dark each night. Not many, but enough to make Aubie decide he will not venture out for his evening constitutionals after dark. No way. No how.
On July 3, after our return from Freedom Fest, four of us had to take Aubie out in solidarity to encourage him to release his water intake for the day.
Boom boom on the big day
On July 4, at 8:30 p.m. the first explosions began. Honestly, they were amazing. From our driveway, we could sit in our chairs and view five—count ‘em, five—separate neighborhood fireworks displays.
And these weren’t just cheap, pop-up and fizzle out on the grass fireworks. These were high in the sky, awe-inspiring, illuminations. Just as John Adams prophesied would take place in the quiet, unincorporated hollow of Shackle Island, TN. It was glorious.
Oh, and if you think we only watched, you would be mistaken. Our sons went out into the street and fired their rockets, too. We’re not commies.
But Aubie? He shuffled into my closet and hunkered down under my golf shirts. When all was completed for the night, we didn’t even try to take him out. He could hold it. Thankfully, he did.
So yes, I have a complicated relationship with this special day. I love the celebrations. And yet, I watch my pup shiver in fear and part of me wants to say, “Hey, one day is enough, people!”
We need a law. Or, do we?
Aubie is not alone in his loathing of fireworks. I know this because of the NextDoor App. Every year, I read commenters begging everyone to limit their firework extravaganzas—because of their dogs.
The commenters proclaim that one day is enough—like I did a couple of paragraphs above. Somewhere in all the Next Door frustration, someone decides we need a new law. One which limits the firework window to 9 PM to 10 PM, one day of the year.
Look, I get it. And maybe we need an ordinance which cuts down the booms to just a few days, and tells us not to blast off after 10 or so. Who knows?
But all this reminds me of one law I overlook so easily when I’m not careful: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. And this law cuts both ways.
Sure, those who decide it is hilarious to shatter our eardrums at midnight may need to rethink their life decisions. But before I stomp out of my home and tell them to “Knock it off, people are sleeping and my dog just peed on the floor,” I need to think about loving my neighbor, even when I’m trying to get some sleep.
My place in this world
Fireworks at odd hours isn’t a big thing—at least to me. And to be honest, the neighbors around our home aren’t a problem when it comes to fireworks. While I hear the booms from far off, we look out for each other on our street.
But this whole thing got me thinking about loving my neighbor, whether it is over fireworks or anything else. And Independence Weekend was a reminder of what my faith requires of me in those times when the world doesn’t line up as I wish.
Yes, I am aware that Jesus overturned tables when religious leaders were scamming good-hearted people at the temple. I also know Jesus used bad words against those same people. And I also know he was willing to have crucial conversations when needed.
But I’m talking about fireworks at odd hours. Or someone cutting me off at a light. Or that person who is just . . . rude.
So, if I’m simply frustrated that someone didn’t act like I wanted, I don’t get to post scathing screeds on NextDoor. It is never my place to go on Facebook and rage about “Some people . . . !”
Gosh, it’s easy for me to go off when something ticks me off. Painfully easy. But faith calls me to those weird characteristics like peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self control.
Dang.
So, if someone goes a little too far next year when we celebrate, America’s 250th, I’ll need this column to remind me of my commitment. Of course, Aubie won’t be amused. Does anyone know if they make Dachshund-size earphones?