a fond memory of the 4th...

Like most everyone, I have fond memories of many 4ths. There were the barbeques, the sparklers (not allowed here but were in Indiana where I spend a couple of years as a child) and the many firework displays. I am sure our kids remember the year that a snake decided to join our barbeque. WB nonchalantly picked it up with the tongs and threw it over the wall and shouted, "Supersnake!" (No snakes were harmed.) We had the year that a tremendous thunderstorm threatened to ruin the fireworks display. It cleared just in time. Along with their grandparents, the four of us watched, lying on the wet grass with our eyes to the sky.

My favorite memory is that of the year I was fifteen. For some reason, my dad decided this would be a good day to teach me to drive. We set out in his huge Oldsmobile convertible and took to the streets. Today, I would be so uncomfortable driving a car of that size but at the time, it didn't seem so big. I was just happy to be behind the wheel. For the most part, the streets were deserted. I am sure people were enjoying their barbeques. We wandered up and down the curvy streets of the foothills. My dad was a calm teacher. (I am sorry to say when it was my turn to teach my children, I left the lessons to WB.) I wasn't nervous or scared. I felt confident steering that big yellow car in and out of the neighborhoods. There is no exciting story to tell of this day. I don't remember what we talked about. There were no accidents or defining moments. There was no profound lesson learned (except of course, I COULD DRIVE!). It was just one of those quiet, perfect times with my dad. No matter how many years had passed since that day, we would always talk on the 4th about the year he taught me to drive. I miss him...

1 second, f/14, ISO100, 70mm, tripod