Fourth of July
Shooting fireworks at each other was the whole point. Every Fourth of July the manager of the paper station had us out to his home in the country near Houston for a campout and to shoot fireworks. We shot them at each other.
The manager had a barn under construction and so far only the upper platform that would be the loft was completed. We used ladders to climb up to the platform, probably 20-25 feet from the ground and decided to spend the night there. We had stopped on the way there to buy as many fireworks as we could afford from one of the stands just outside the Houston city limits. We focused on firecrackers, bottle rockets, and Roman candles. A couple of the guys got cherry bombs, too, and other high-sky flying explosives.
There were four of us, including my best friend George, who the manager let me bring along, although this was really an event for the paperboys. Of course my friend Mike, who got me the job as one of the paperboys, was there. He was always the wildcard, he would do just about anything, never needing anyone to dare him to do whatever it was that occurred to him. He was marginally in trouble with someone pretty much all the time. He was handsome and could be very charming so got away with just about everything he did.
The soon to be loft platform was quite large in area with the long side being maybe fifty feet. Rather than shoot at each other randomly with fireworks, we decided to split into two teams of 2 each and wage our war, an Us and Them sort of thing. We went about creating bunkers at either end of the platform, availing ourselves of the barn building materials on the ground. Panels of aluminum made great barriers. There were even metal trash cans with lids that made great shields. We had all we needed to proceed with our plan.
There were pear trees that produced hard, truly inedible fruit. But they are a great vehicle for firecrackers. We carved a small hole in the pear and placed a single firecracker in the hole to create a makeshift hand grenade. The weight of the pear made it possible to throw a great distance.
We lined up bottle rockets to fire across the platform to the opposing side. We actually held roman candles in our hands to aim and fire in the same way. It was not the best idea but it made sense to us.
Few of our ideas were good ones.
We attacked each other for quite a while with no serious injuries. Then my and George’s ammunition supply was hit by a bottle rocket which set off the whole dump. We jumped to the other side of our barrier and held our shields up for protection from the explosions our supplies produced.
It was quite humid and the air around us hung heavy with smoke and the smell of gun powder. When the air cleared the victors celebrated their obvious win as George and I were out of ammunition.
George and I were at our end of the platform while Mike and Calvin were at their end taking inventory of their supplies. Things were suddenly quiet and we heard a rustling down on the ground nearby. Then we heard a familiar voice say “take cover” and then something that sounded like a rock came scattering across the platform toward Mike and Calvin. Sparks from the object told us it was something to avoid and Calvin dashed to our end of the platform. The object stopped a couple of feet from where Mike was standing and then we heard the explosion.
When the smoke cleared, we saw nothing of Mike. At that moment we assumed it was a cherry bomb that had been hurled to the platform and that Mike was no longer with us. We walked slowly to the end of the platform where we last saw him and found no trace. Then we heard a rustling below and there was Mike who had managed to jump safely to a pile of hay bales and avoid the impact of the cherry bomb. He was lying comfortably on the hay and looking quite proud of himself.
At this point, we, except Mike, had lost interest in fireworks. Mike however continued shooting them off the platform until he had used up his supply. Then, there was nothing to do. We were tired and hungry, it never occurred to us to bring food and none was brought to us, so we resolved to just try sleeping as it was quite dark but for the light provided by the stars.
After tossing and turning for a while, George and I decided that we could simply walk home. Being 14 and independently minded young men, we figured that since it had not taken long for us to get there by car that it couldn't be all that far to walk, right? So we packed up our camping gear and some fireworks that George had stashed away in case we needed them and started walking.
It was a simple plan.
The plan was to walk from the farm along a country road until we got to Hempstead highway where we would turn right and walk to 11th street back in the Houston city limits. Then it was a walk down 11th to the street where George lived where I had left my bike. From there I could deliver my route and then go home.
It was a simple plan.
We figured the distance to Hempstead highway was about a mile but it turned out to be a longer mile than we expected. It was quiet along that road, no cars came by and the crickets were active. It was not quite dawn yet.
By the time we got to the highway, it was early dawn. The road was already populated with big trucks and speeding cars. There was of course no sidewalk, only a rocky shoulder for the road upon which we could walk. Beyond that was a deep drainage ditch and then fences and parking lots and factories of various kinds. The humid air was thick with the smell of road tar and factory emissions.
We kept hoping that after Mike and Calvin were picked up at the farm that on the way back they’d see us and give us a ride. But we never saw them and I guess they never saw us.
The sun rose in a cloudless sky and began to beat down on us as we trudged along. Little by little, George tossed away objects he was no longer willing to carry. I kept all mine, as objects were hard to get and were rarely replaced.
For some reason it did not occur to us to try hitchhiking. At one point a police car stopped to find out what we were up to. We were quite nervous because we had fireworks in our possession. The policemen offered us a ride but we declined being fearful that we’d be caught with the contraband. They didn’t insist because we weren’t doing anything wrong from their point of view. They drove away and we continued stumbling along the busy highway.
At some point it became counterproductive to stop and rest as it was harder each time to start again. Our feet were swollen and blistered and stopping only called attention to that problem. As slow as we were going, I was faster than George and gradually there was over 50 feet between us.
It must’ve been high noon by the time I reached 11th street. George was about ten minutes behind and I waited. Then it occurred to him that a bus ran down 11th and he caught one that would take him to a stop on his street. I did not have any money and did not understand how the bus worked so I watched George ride away and kept walking by myself.
My walk along 11th street was painful, yet peaceful. I walked past all the places that I’d been in or passed while riding in the car with my grandmother. The grocery stores, trading stamp redemption centers, hamburger stand, BBQ place, beer joints, plant nursery, five and dime store, real estate office, churches, and Victorian mansion I was sure was haunted. The sun was high in the blue sky. My feet were about as swollen as I could imagine them being and every step reminded me of the blisters on my feet.
By the time I turned the corner at the street to George’s house I was about as exhausted as I could ever remember being. I got to the house and there was my bike still locked to the fence and there was George sitting in a lawn chair in the shade with a cold drink in his hand. The bus had gotten him home soon enough to clean up and get comfortable. He had a sandwich ready for me that I don’t remember tasting as I ate it and I drank something that was cold that I couldn’t recognize.
I cleaned up a little and sat in the shade with him trying to get myself ready to go to the paperstation, wrap my papers and deliver my route. Only then could I go home and get some real rest.
We sat there in the yard not talking about anything. We just had our cold drinks and felt the thick warm breezes across our faces. Then a loud explosion made us dive from our seats to the ground for cover.
A passing car had just backfired.