Dearest Rachel –
The plan was for all of us to assemble at Recreation Park for last night’s festivities; it would seem our town was putting on a drone display in lieu of fireworks this year. And honestly, it’s to be expected; we don’t have a venue big enough (and empty enough) for fireworks, now that Arlington Park is gone. Moreover, it looks like it will never be used for anything for the foreseeable future; the McCaskey family may have purchased the land, but given the incentives offered by the city of Hammond, it looks like they’re willing to send their Bears across the state line, rather than continue to be taken advantage of by the state and county, who are no better than the city they were already trying to escape. So for now, drone shows it is.
I suppose it’s the wave of the future; they’re certainly cleaner than gunpowder, and there aren’t any pauses between formations like there are between one barrage of rockets and the next. I was surprised to note that they don’t last as long, though; the best that can be managed with a single fleet is about ten to twelve minutes, at which point their batteries begin to run low (and while drones can run indefinitely when plugged into a power source, can you imagine the tangle of cords caused by an entire fleet of these things?) I understand it, but having been spoiled by fireworks displays lasting upwards of thirty minutes to an hour, it feels like being gypped of entertainment value.
Worse yet – although this is of no personal concern at present, but you never know – they just lack the romance of fireworks. From the American perspective, it’s supposed to represent the battles from which we were born as a nation; complete with “the rockets’ red glare / the bombs bursting in air” as described by Francis Scott Key. As an otaku (and you would agree with me on this), there’s a more literal sense of romance to the explosive sound and the burst into chrysanthemum beauty that is conducive to that first kiss or popping the question. There’s a reason old movies would shift the camera to the fireworks just as the lovers go for a clinch, and not just because of the Hays Code.
But the activity in the group chat suggested that this would be an ideal chance to get together and celebrate the Fourth, even if it was on the Second instead.
Granted, Erin spoke of her schedule being crowded (and already lacking in opportunities for her to get any sleep), so she wouldn’t be a likely show, but that wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary. Ellen wasn’t saying much, but she’s been having difficulty with her phone plan in terms of getting – and contributing to – the group chats, but the subject was broached days in advance (by Kerstin, who first had the idea, despite living two towns over from it and us), so the rest of us assumed she was more or less up to date, and just didn’t feel the need to add to the conversation.
Then, on my walk back home from the ‘office’ yesterday, Kerstin called about an offer she’d gotten from a gentleman friend for the evening. The upshot of her call was that, given the option, rare as it was, she might go with him rather than join us for the drones. Suddenly, it was down to us boys. Well, at least we didn’t have the same logistical nightmares of trying to get ourselves together, I guess.
I mean, we did have a few logistics to work around. Since it was Thursday, we were resuming our weekly meals at Mom’s – only these days, it was the two of us bringing food over, rather than expecting her to cook after all she’s been through, with losing Dad and all that. Besides, this introduces her to certain local spots she hasn’t had the opportunity to check out; last night was a local barbeque joint that is so inconspicuous, you wouldn’t be able to find it unless you were looking for it. Combined with the place on Euclid that we discovered barely a few weeks after your accident, our village is growing quite the barbeque culture these days. We brought way too much food over (and feel free to sing Cinderella’s line from Into the Woods here), but we wanted to give her plenty to taste and enjoy.
Even with all that, we still had plenty of daylight once we were done with dinner. We even offered to invite her along, but she declined; if nothing else, the past few days have been absolute scorchers, and the cool of the evening would likely only come across as uncomfortably muggy. We accepted this – indeed, we were rather expecting it, but we wanted to extend the offer, especially since the other girls seemed to have all dropped out – and headed home to wait for the appointed hour.
Back from Meema’s, watching videos and waiting for the time when we would head off to the park, Logan came home. We have our Thursday evening custom with family; he’s developed a similar one of his own (although it’s slightly less enjoyable, as it includes a weigh-in to see if he’s made progress on his own weight-loss journey). He poked his head into the open bedroom door:
“So, ah… when do we expect to leave?”
“Well, the schedule says that the display starts at 9:30, so I figured we ought to leave between 8:15 and 8:30,” I replied. “That’ll give us time to catch the shuttle, and ride over to the park, where we can get ourselves a good spot to view the display from.”
“I dunno,” he responded with a bit of concern. “My app says it’s gonna rain by nine tonight. Thunderstorms, even. I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“Really?” I checked my weather app. “Mine says it’s gonna rain, sure, but not until one in the morning. Here, let’s take a look at Google.” I pulled up the site on the computer Daniel and I were using. “See? Here, it says the rain will hit by eleven. We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s only going to be an hour or so; the display isn’t going to be more than ten to twelve minutes long.” He seemed to accept this, and headed to the family room to kill the next half hour or so in his own way while we did so in ours.
Once the moment came and nearly went – sometimes, you’ve just got to watch the whole video all the way through – Daniel and I got up and called for Logan to join us. After a moment or two of wrangling, we drove over to the middle school, where we pulled in behind the bus being used as a shuttle, inadvertently missing the actual parking lot on the first pass. I suggested that the boys hop out of the car and get seats; maybe they could hold it until I had the car parked and I could join them. They refused, and by the time I made my way into the lot and found a parking spot, it had pulled out.
As we stood there waiting in the small queue for the shuttle to take us from the middle school on our side of town to the park closer to the other side of town, we noticed a flash of light across the sky. It seemed to be emanating from behind us, but it lit up the whole of the sky for an unmistakable moment.
“Was that lightning?” I don’t know if that was one of the boys, or someone else in the line, but it was a moot point in short order, as a distinct rumble filled us all with concern.
“Yup; that was lightning.”
“They’re gonna cancel the display at the slightest hint of thunderstorms,” another person called out, and maybe about half the assembled group made their way to their cars. I looked at the boys.
“Well, do we want to take the chance?” Logan wore a quirky, smug grin; he knew he’d been right, and I knew what his choice would be. Daniel’s expression was more non-committal; the personification of the shrug emoji. I won’t say I was overruled – I didn’t exactly have my heart set on watching this thing, especially since the odds of it even happening had dropped like a pebble off a cliff – but it was clear that, even if I insisted on going at this point, I’d likely be going alone. We made our way back to the car, and drove the mile home.
In that short span of time, we were already getting spots on the windscreen, and by the time nine o’clock rolled around, rain was already coming down in sheets against the bedroom roof. True, we live a mile or two to the east of the park, so we would have gotten the weather slightly before they would, but only slightly. There was no way that it wouldn’t arrive there shortly, if it wasn’t already there. Odds are, even without the thunder and lightning, the wind would have been more than sufficient to require a cancellation. Then again, it probably would have been the same result for a firework show, too.
“I’ll bet you’re glad we didn’t get out and get ourselves a spot on that bus,” Daniel grinned. And I couldn’t argue with either of them; had we done that, we would have been there to be caught in the deluge, with very little in the way of cover. As it was, it was a simple matter for us to turn back and settle in at home. And for my part, I could at least say we made the effort, rather than to simply rely on Logan’s information and just give up. In the worst of all situations for the occasion, we had the best option we could have to deal with it.
So thanks for the well-wishes, honey, in keeping us safe and (mostly) dry. Still, if you could continue to do so, we’d certainly appreciate it. As you can tell, we still need it.
Letters to Rachel 