The Firework Heart

                                 


These golden days of Summer are sweet, indeed...full of possibilities. I am still a visitor in this charming place...Pennsylvania is as unpredictable as anything....full of history, tons of events, one foot astride the past, the other amidst a very community oriented present.

And here I am, smack in the middle of it, a month long citizen of this place, and center stage at the center of all Summer events--the Fourth of July!

And here, it was slowly all working out--I finally met a few new friends via boss friend--his friends had just moved into his neighborhood--a young couple and their cute seven year old son. They, and their cousins, would be joining us for the Capital's fine Fourth festivities.

Yes, I was tagging along to what might be deemed commonplace to the locals--going to see the Harrisburg Symphony play at the local minor league baseball stadium, followed by fireworks.

We arrived at twilight, a goodly stream of people surrounding us as we took our seats in the cozy stadium. The early evening air was still warm, but not uncomfortable....

                                

A peaceful Fourth to all!

Then the symphony--happily, if casually, dressed in short sleeved red white and blue tops--first tuned their instruments, then prepped for their maestro:


The maestro himself was refreshingly a young and funny guy--using his hands in animated expression, joking in between great pieces, and generally being quite the entertainer.  Here is the back of his shirt. Clearly, he was in a holiday mood.

                          

The music was good, though not strictly classic.However one couldn't help the infectious and sentimental feelings of music choices...for myself, this was singing EVERY WORD of "The Sound Of Music Medley" (and I do INDEED know all of the words, much to the mock horror of all of those around me).

I was in love with the whole thing--people sang along, clapped, chatted happily. Funny, I don't remember quite this much happy comingling in New York, but it felt like a BIG family gathering. And one couldn't help but get a lump in the throat when the conductor played all of the anthems from all military forces and asked those who served to stand. I can't quite recall any such thing happening at any event I'd been to, even patriotic ones. There was a slight tingling feeling, staring at fleshing and blood, young and old people who have been made to be brave.  One could not clap loud or long enough for such people....

The final musical selection was "The 1812 Overture" in which a small bevvy of fireworks were set off towards the end. POP went my heart as people clapped.

                            

We then sauntered over to the parking garage where boss-friend had parked his car--we'd realized that the roof would be a perfect spot to watch fireworks. Once we ascended, we realized that several others had come to the same conclusion as a goodly sized crowd had encamped as the last light faded...

Soon enough, the fireworks seared color onto the sacred night--one of history and community married in that strange mystery known as tradition...where people converge as they perhaps done for millenia. The night held it's breath, little bats shrieking in the night, only a sigh louder than little children shrieking and playing, people laughing and one girl's heart popping as a firework's heart.

There was only one sad realization, that I have no one here to hold hands with--I am missing some of my friends and loved ones, but here, on this roof, there is a small spark and sparkle of possibilities yet to come...