As I sat in my kitchen Monday night listening to the high-pitch squeals, the rapid popping and then the resounding BOOM of fireworks exploding into the wee hours of the morning all around my neighborhood, I tried to think of something that attracted and entertained the diverse masses as much as fireworks do-and I could think of nothing.
I agree that we could do without some of the more negative aspects of fireworks-Monday's Salt Lake Tribune suggested that there could be possible health and environmental impacts from firework smoke and particles-but I wonder if some critics' suggestions of doing away with them completely is one battle we should concede. Fireworks were the one thing that brought together almost every cultural group, every age group, every denomination and every orientation in Utah, and unlike the parade, it did not feel staged.
Whereas the parade was merely divisive-groups adhered to the single-file parade standard and spaced themselves out like little isolated islands, succumbing to the perverse, "Who got the most applause?" competitive atmosphere-fireworks allowed people to mingle, to gather, to talk and to just exist together without boundaries or barriers.
The tents and booths set up around Liberty Park were indication enough of that. The "Navajo Tacos" tent cozied up to one advertising "Churros," "Baby frogs for cancer" neighbored the climbing wall, and in one tent, a woman sat quietly with her silver jewelry and smiled as the teenager across from her shouted Chick-fil-A's specials to anyone who would listen. And they all continually paused to glance up at the fireworks.
As I walked around, I realized that these people who were perusing the booths were as eclectic a bunch as the goods being offered and were representative of more than just one slice of Utah's history. If fireworks could bring them together in such a way, so be it. Unlike the parade, the fireworks did not focus on one theme or one celebration, and everyone applauded together.
The grand finale was my favorite part. Everyone stopped moving for a short time and let themselves be overtaken by the brilliance-and the sensory overload-in the sky. The noise was close to deafening, the fireworks were so plentiful that if I blinked I missed dozens, and people's cheering and applause were so contagious that I could not help but join in. For a moment we all stood together and nothing else mattered-not groups, not histories, and not affiliations. In my opinion, we could compromise and allow a little bit more of our air to be polluted even if it only meant a few seconds of this kind of unified community.
We can be smarter about fireworks in the future, however. More effort should be put toward constructing them with safer components. Fewer fireworks-just stick with the grand finale-would also decrease the amount of pollutants in the air. Enforcing personal firework use will continue to help decrease the risk of fires. Also, people should be better educated as to how the noise and the smoke may affect their pets and Utah's wildlife.
And finally, there was one more benefit to having the fireworks. At least when one exploded overhead, people could see where to aim inside the dark, smelly, dirty portable toilets that lined the sidewalks and posed perhaps the greatest health hazard of all.
cwieser@chronicle.utah.edu
