The 4th of July!

The 4th of July is my favorite holiday.

Every town has their special “day” or event. In Salina it’s the River Festival. In Todd’s hometown it’s Satanta Day. In Tribune it’s the Greeley County Fair. But in Hugoton it is the 4th of July.

The morning of Independence Day starts early in Hugoton with events at the park and a parade. As a child, I remember eagerly anticipating this morning each summer. Our park was beautiful—full of large trees which provided lots of shade, playground equipment, and the pool. There was always a dunking booth, cake walk, three-legged race, face painting, sack race, turtle race, egg toss, sawing contest, ring toss, and bingo. But some years brought interesting new ideas. I remember one year when two people took turns sitting on a horizontal pole over a Port-a-Pit and pelted each other with padded sticks until one fell off.

The morning always ended with a swimsuit beauty contest. Don’t get too excited—the participants were all under the age of 6! Dressed in their cutest swimsuit, little boys and girls would parade around the pool getting introduced over a loud speaker as spectators crowded around the chain link fence to get a good view and take pictures. Although I remember participating in this event, I certainly didn’t win.

When Domino’s opened (not the Pizza chain but a tasty little burger joint owned by great guy that had this for a nickname), my family began the annual tradition of walking there from the park and eating lunch together. Nowadays, this requires a pretty big table—not to mention a race with the Stegman’s, who at some point started the same tradition!

Somewhere along the way, the boys quit coming to the park with us and began their own little tradition of golfing with Dad all morning while Mom, my sisters, and I chase the kids around the park and have fun catching up with old friends who have returned for the annual festivities.

By this date each year, wheat harvest was complete and my folks and their friends were ready to unwind. We often got together with friends for some type of party. The parents sat around in lawn chairs while we blew things up all afternoon with big metal coffee cans full of firecrackers. At some point, one of my brothers-in-law brought a potato gun. After that, the boys worked together to design and build another one to perfection. From that year on, as my sisters and I played with the kids, the boys shot the potato gun. It always cracked us up that they laughed long and hard after EVERY shot! This led up to Tana’s famous line to Aunt Casy (probably at about 4 years old), “I love fireworks day. I love potato day.” Mom learned quickly to stock up on potatoes and cheap hairspray.

My hometown always put on a great fireworks display at the Babe Ruth baseball diamond. I remember being impatient for the baseball game to end. Between the game and nightfall there was typically a coin hunt in a pile of hay. With my asthma, I never got to participate in this exciting event. Everyone would park out there and sit in the stands, lawn chairs, the pickup beds to “ooh” and “ahh” at the sight. It always ended with an American Flag that would light up for a few seconds before fizzling out to signal the end. In the last several years this has been held at the Dirtona Raceway but most often at the high school football field where spectators sit in the bleachers and are often treated to some type of entertainment prior to the display.

Back at home, the fun really began. This is when Dad drug out the night fireworks that he had purchased. Grown men are just like excited children when it comes to fireworks! Typically we had a driveway full of friends and a huge stockpile of things to light up. In town we simply lit these in the street. Now that my folks live in the country, we use the cement slab by the shed—unless it’s been a particularly dry summer. My husband and brothers-in-law share that same ornery gleam that my Dad always has in his eye when it’s time to light ‘em up. The grandkids all take turns helping with this task with shrieks of fear and excitement.

Over the years, we’ve deviated from this typical schedule on occasion. Many of these years, work kept someone away. One year Heath was recovering from surgery in Wichita and we watched the fireworks over there. When the twins were babies, I remember being exhausted and staying at Dad and Mom’s to watch from the window while everyone went into town. Of course, I’ll never forget the Independence Day weekend of 1991 when we lost Thad, Carrie, and Delbert. Remembering Thad’s ornery grin will always be part of this day for me.

So many have given so much to give us the freedoms that we enjoy in this wonderful country—the United States of America. I know that I was blessed to be born in this country and raised in Hugoton, Kansas. No wonder this is my favorite holiday. Happy 4th of July!