July 4th

The summer I was 22, my parents came to Boston for the 4th of July. Daddy and I were huge tall ships fans, so we all headed out to see the annual turning of the Constitution (the ship, not the document). I heard somewhere ~ this visit perhaps? ~ that the yearly turnaround is what allows her to stay commissioned, as she must travel a nautical mile every year to maintain status. But that might be myth. Digressing... Anyway! During this day, my mom snapped these 3 pictures:

Throughout the years, I held onto them, kept track of them, tried desperately not to lose them, until finally an old roommate gave me this frame for them. Now, they hang prominently in every home I have. Truthfully, they hang near a door, in case I have to grab them as I leave because of a fire (or earthquake, or tsunami, or hurricane more recently).

Yesterday, it dawned on me these pictures were taken exactly half my life ago. I was 22 that 4th of July. I was 44 this 4th of July. I've lived as long since those pictures were taken as I had before them. It was...curious.

As for this year, it was good. Possibly the easiest 4th of July ever. The fireworks were at 9, so about 8 were wandered down to our favorite spot on the river. Plopped down right there, with tons of room around us.

Lithus went to find frosty drinks, and I was (literally) circled by Curtis. In spite of my best "really, dude, don't talk to me" attitude, Curtis asked if he could sit down. My response (again, literally) was the cliched-only-in-the-movies-does-anyone-say-that-why-do-they-keep-having-characters-say-that-when-no-one-actually-says-that "It's a free world." So he sat and prattled on, drunkenly, about how the Mississippi is narrower than the river up near Detroit and how the zebra mussels are destroying the algae and thus the ecosystem and something something something I wasn't really listening. Although I did have occasion to mention my husband and Curtis didn't flinch. It wasn't until said husband materialized and lo and behold actually existed that Curtis decided he was probably barking up the wrong tree and left. We amused ourselves by watching him work the women in the crowd for the rest of the evening, with never more success ~ and often much less success ~ than he'd had with me.

Then it came time for the fireworks. They were fireworks, and if you like fireworks (which I do) they were lovely. 

Then, because dealing with crowds is something neither of us like, so both of us do well, we waited. Let the area clear. But in doing so, we got to see the Gretna and naval base fireworks from across the river, and watch the Creole Queen head out for her evening cruise. 

By the time those shows were over, the crowd had cleared and we could leave comfortably. We headed to our favorite bar ~ the Sazerac, in the Roosevelt Hotel ~ which was almost empty because everyone else was out being 4th of July-y in the Quarter, and finished the night with a toast.

Here's to the next 22 years of celebrating. May they be as good as the first 22 were.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.