Independence Day, or not

July 5, the day after Independence Day.

It was relatively calm night, here, last night. There were some fireworks in the park east of us, and not a few loud bangs. Oh, and the air was redolent with sulfur. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn you were in the third act of Faust.

But, surprisingly, it was limited. It didn't have that artillery barrage feeling that 4 July sometimes gets. And there were only a few sirens…meaning, I hope, that there were few injuries. Though, sadly, there are always some. And, in a dry climate like this one, there are always fires where the rockets or sparks fall to earth, in the grass or on the mesa, or on peoples' roofs.

Sometimes…well, many times…there are also deaths. Someone elects to hold a firework in his teeth. Or to throw a smoke bomb through the open window of a house or a passing car. Or, whatever. And someone dies.

Alas, one wonders how long we can continue to celebrate the fourth in the way that we do. I mean, with fireworks. We have already made fire crackers (the loud explosive sort) illegal and done our best to replace them with various, less dangerous alternatives—fire fountains, whistlers, smoke bombs, and so on. But, ultimately, you cannot escape the fact that we have a holiday that involves the ignition of low-level explosives by people who are not trained to handle pyrotechnics…and who are often under-aged and/or drunk at the time.

I wonder if, in the end, we will have to stop it entirely, the way that many communities now make trick-or-treating illegal on Halloween.

There is something very sad about that. Yet, sometimes, it seems that as a people we lack the discipline, self-control, and, well, simple wisdom to be trusted with these particular toys, with their unique capacity for injury. It seems that, maybe, we need keepers.

As I say, a thought terribly sad…

And, worse, perhaps metaphoric.

For so much that is going on, now, in our politics and our place in the world.