Last night our town had its annual Fourth of July fireworks display. Sam and I didn’t go. Truth is, I’m not a fan of fireworks. The only way to make them even remotely interesting is to watch them while drunk. This also applies to parades not including the Rose Bowl palominos (they are the divine union of my top two girlhood fantasies: a super-long silky tail of hair and a horse). Majorettes are okay, too, because of the dramatic tension created by the possibility they might drop the baton and humiliate themselves.

          Anyway, last night I was thinking about fireworks and parades and it occurred to me that both are symbolic of military might (fireworks = bombs, parades = marching into battle). This started me wondering if being a pacifist has anything to do with my aversion to these activities. I finally decided that I was giving the subject too much weight, and myself too much credit. I’m pretty positive the reason I don’t like fireworks and parades has nothing to do with what they symbolize and everything to do with what they actually are: boring.