Fourmother and I are thinking some of the same thoughts today. She has posted a blog about patriotism at it's most ironic.

Yesterday afternoon the kids asked me about the difference between firecrackers and fireworks. We got invited to a small celebration at a small private pond for firecrackers and pie. I was so thrilled to accept. I loath the Fourth of July. It is too hot. It is too loud. It is too drunk. All that trapped in way too much traffic. No thanks. I was very pleased to forgo all that and spend a quiet evening among friends. The kids were suspicious. They would in fact get to participate in the thrill of fireworks, right?

So we were talking about fireworks and the kids asked why people use them to celebrate. I gave them my honest opinion, which upon reflection, often turns out to be a poor choice. I told them the fireworks symbolise the bombs of war. They asked if bombs were beautiful in the sky. Aren't kids just marvelous? So directly connected to the heart of the matter. Flatly I said, "No, they are hideous tools of pain and death." Happy Fourth!

To us children, there were a few key truths my parents managed to convey. Motorcycles can take the whole face right off of your head. Water running high in a river will take the living breath of even the very strongest grown ups. (Note, ducks don't even mess with high water.) And firecrackers can take off your hand in such a way that all the kings horses and all the kings men will never be able to reconstruct it for you. (Also, if you smack your lips you will be killed. But that was a private, and I learned as I grew, not a universal truth.)

My son reads well and he has a cautious temperament. He was given some sparklers yesterday. I feel certain he took a few private minutes to carefully read every word of caution on the box. Surely he meditated in his way, on the issue of sparklers and safety. This synthesized with our happy little chat must have worked inside him. Last night he was also, unfortunately, chased by a kid with lit sparklers. Even as he said so clearly we all heard him, "Hey man, I'm serious, stop it!" Over schooled over competitive over gifted obnoxious boy chose not to stop. Such a strangely American image....

Why is it that even the best educated parents often fail to see bad behavior in their children? And why is it that even the most ferociously protective parents occasionally fail to intervene when they so clearly should? For some mysterious reason we all let this go.

As the fireworks began we noticed our son moving ever farther away. Queried, he said he'd just like to watch from a distance in the company of his "fire friends," the fire flies. But 15 minutes after that he disappeared. His father found him curled in a ball sobbing on the soft mossy forest floor. We left.

I felt a strange pride walking the path back home. Days ago a friend asked if I thought it might be hard to be German. He was referring to all that nasty Nazi business. German? I said, "I think it is harder to be a US citizen. At least the Germans aren't currently killing anyone for selfish reasons, not to mention slavery and Native American genocide." My boy was exhausted when we got to the party last night. I am sure that contributed more to his melt down than fire fear or deeply ironic feelings of patriotism. But I like to think we might be raising children who can at least feel, who are not numb, and who maybe won't turn a blind and unresponsive eye to our government of over competitive war mongering jackals.