By Keith N Fisher
When I was a kid, we had to save money for the fireworks store. They didn’t have stands on every corner like we do now, and when we got our booty we put it away for the big event, Independence Day.
It was hard to wait. Those fuses mocked us in our struggle to control the urge to strike a match. We knew, however, we wouldn’t get anymore, so we controlled our desires.
We live better these days. Even poor people seem to have enough money for fireworks. The selection is more sophisticated, too. There are laws in Utah limiting the number of days on which fireworks can be displayed, but people still succumb. A couple of my close friends make a good profit from selling fireworks, so I make my suggestion tongue-in-cheek.
Still, if I could think of another way for them to pay the mortgage . . .
I admit, this year is not as bad as last, but I work at night and continually get woken by the pop-pop, bangs, and whistles of other people’s fun. Where does all that money come from anyway?
After loosing sleep for the third day this year, I devised a plan. I suggest that everyone save the money spent in home displays (except on the actual holiday). I believe if everyone gave that money to the poor, we would have full food banks. We could pay the debts of many struggling families with what we save on emergency services alone.
If you add the cost of everything over two holidays, (the 4th and the 24th in Utah) the totals are staggering. How much do you think we could add to the pot by eliminating private fireworks displays entirely? We could all get our fix by watching the municipal shows.
Wow, just think about the medical bills we could pay, but then, there is the thrill of striking the match . . .
As I said above, I’m being facetious. I mentioned this plan to a customer the other night and his rebuttal floored me. I suggested the money saved, would eliminate the poor entirely and he said "No it wouldn’t. People choose to be poor."
I’ll leave you to debate that issue on your own. Meanwhile, writing has been good to me this week. I went to a family party and listened to more criticism about my choice to be a writer. I’ll talk about that next time.
Good Luck with your writing—see you next week.