Yesterday was Independence Day, and in the evening there were fireworks. I was at home, and could see some of them from our living room window, which has a view of the bay. Part of the view is obstructed by trees, but there was one fireworks shoot-off site down the mountain that was in pretty good view. The fireworks were close enough to seem big, but far enough away that there was a sound delay, and I couldn’t tell which sounds went with which displays. I could hear a group of boys down in the yard saying Wa!Wa! and an appreciative man’s voice from another window in our building. The fireworks were fun and pretty, each one a little composition of colors and designs. I thought they were shot off too soon after each other because you didn’t get to see the whole “story” before the next one went off.
It reminded me of two other fireworks experiences I’ve had. One was in Japan during the harvest festival. Sitting in the dark with hundreds of other people on the edge of a rice field watching the lights and explosions directly overhead, and enjoying the collective sighs, gasps and exclamations of the crowd. It was a very responsive audience. Also during that festival I walked passed a father and small daughter lighting sparklers. They invited me to burn one, and I tried to do it like an American sparkler, waving it around to make streaks of light. It didn’t work; the sparkler was not strong enough. My friend that I was visiting explained that the idea was to enjoy the gentleness and delicacy of that sparkler. It opened my eyes to a new aesthetic, like so many other things on that trip.
The other fireworks experience I remembered was New Year’s Eve in Torshavn. We stood on a hill and could see the whole town’s celebrations. A man came out with a looped horn (like a French horn, but simpler) and stood on a mound and blew it in different directions. My favorite parts was when the emergency boat flares, which have a one-year shelf life and would need to be replaced anyway, were set off (illegally, probably). They burst into deep red fireballs, that floated slowly through the night for a long time. At one time I think I counted 20 of them above Torshavn and across the water on Nolsoy, the tiny island off shore.
6 comments:
Selvi, I so enjoy your blogs, thank you for letting us get to know you again, from so far, but yet so close by!
Love and hugs
Hashanthi
I thank you as well...it is nice to imagine you sitting in front of the sparkler contemplating it's beauty, and not satisfied with the opportunity to appreciate the wonder of each display of colors, crackles and smoke illuminated by the next firecracker.
My first son was born on the fourth of July, so as I was in labor I watched fireworks outside my window (in Evanston, Illinois they celebrate on the 3rd.) Since my parents were two years reluctant to having an Iranian Muslim for a son in law (as my mother especially feels we are at war with Iran) and my mother's extreme patriotism, I felt his birth on the fourth of july a gift for my parents...uniting harmonizing the forces in the universe...towards love. Now, during one of my mother's and father's favorite holidays they are celebrating the uniting of IRAN and America in the gentle soul of my son...lovely I think.
Last thursday when you posted this, I was giving birth to number 3. I think all children deserve fireworks to celebrate their coming...forget kisses.
love, laura
Selvi,
I always enjoyed reading your tales from Torshavn. Thank you for sharing another special event you witnessed there.
Japanese aesthetics are fascinating. I’ve never been to Japan, but I’ve read a little gem of a book on the subject – In Praise of Shadows by Junichiro Tanizaki. The delicate sparkler is a wonderful example. Being able to appreciate a different sensibility is such a positive quality. Thanks for sharing it and inspiring.
Much love and hugs from
Jane
Dearest Selvi,
Thank you for writing about the fireworks. When you start mentioning about two other fireworks, I began to get excited and quietly hoped that you would remember the firework festival in a rural Inba, Chiba, Japan. It is very sweet of you to remember it, and it is very refreshing and hart-warming to hear your side of the story, what you saw and how you felt, etc. You are really special. I was so moved that I called home and told my mother about it. It made her feel really special, too, and said, "I feel honored that Selvi-san remembers our ordinary firework festival. Although we didn't have much to offer, I am glad that she had a good time here." She also told me that the firework festival is cancelled this year due to lack of funcing among the local stores and shops. They didn't have a good year. My husband and I will be in Japan this summer again, and we will miss you.
Love,
AK
Thank you for leaving comments. It makes me feel closer to you too. First that you were interested in reading my thoughts and second that you responded.
Laura, I liked your interepretation of you son's birthday. Funny how things work out, no?
Jane, that book sounds very interesting. I'm going to look is up.
AK, I wish I could come too! Regards to your parents.
I really enjoy your writing my dear. It has that pace I love to read, calm and quiet but precise. I also enjoy when the comments about a post expand on beautiful aspects of the subject as well...like Laura's wonderful foray into identity and birth and fireworks, and basically, unity between cultures.
Fireworks in Haifa are pretty special, I think. Because from the mountain, the bay is just like a deep black canvas at night. Once I was walking along a street, and the fireworks had started, and would end before I could get a good look at them. I pulled out my mini mushroom-shaped kaleidoscope form my purse and stood along the sidewalk where I could have a tiny view of the fireworks' tops between two buildings.
Looking at them through the kaleidoscope made them appear multiplied by the hundreds, and with a few sparks, I had my own monumental show. I often think of that moment, it's strange how fireworks stay so clear in our memories. Isn't it?
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