Monday, April 16, 2012

Culture Clash

Since my early childhood, I've held the 4th of July close to my heart. Most boys I know did--who couldn't love a holiday which encouraged the use of explosives?

My detonations took place in small town America: Clay Center, KS, population just shy of five thousand. Aimee was from a different world--St. Louis, MO, population a whole helluva lot more.

Aimee made her first trip to Clay Center for the 4th in 1999. I treated her to the deliberately-paced (slow) spectacle (meaning non-spectacle) that was Clay Center's 4th celebration. We parked with old high school buddies in a grocery store lot, the same store where those buddies and I worked in our formative years. The city fireworks display launched above the football stadium about 1/4 mile away. After the "show" we lit our own fireworks. Jason bragged about the prowess of the buzz bomb, and then heartily defended the buzz bombs of his youth when the 1999 version sputtered and we all laughed--especially Aimee with that deep, soul-shaking laugh of hers. She spoke of the V.P. Fair in St. Louis, but never to degrade our small town experience. She had a gift that way. Even as one friend snuggled with his fiancée in the bed of a pick-up truck to Cinderella's "You Don't Know What You've Got Till It's Gone," she simply said, "That's when I knew I was in small town America."

God knows how easy it was to mock Clay Center 4ths...

 We started traveling to Belle Plaine, KS, for the 4th in 2002. Aaron, another high school bud, lives in the open country south of Wichita. Out there, surrounded by well-irrigated corn fields, we can detonate everything we want--and often do. Aimee trooped along, year after year, and finally came to enjoy (I hope), the slower pace and free-wheeling attitude of small town celebrations. All the gunpowder in the world can't mask the simple fact that the 4th of July is really about friends and family. My boys have grown up with Aaron and Jason's kids, splashing in mud puddles, having water gun fights, and finally starting to launch their own fireworks as they've grown older. I told Aimee we'd try and get the crew to go to St. Louis for the V.P. Fair one year. We haven't made it, yet.

I'll head back to Belle Plaine to hang out with Aaron and Jason this year. I'll bring my boys, and they'll run and play with the other kids. I'll go to sleep, alone, in a borrowed bed and wish Aimee was there to enjoy every small town moment of it. 

Holidays are going to be hard.



6 comments:

Daniel W. Powell said...

I admire that you've already made plans to bring the boys out for the summer holiday, Aaron. I think they'll appreciate the time spent with good friends, and they'll be thankful to you for maintaining these important traditions.

Now, just make sure everyone gets home with all their digits! :)

Aaron Polson said...

"Now, just make sure everyone gets home with all their digits! :)"

That, my friend, is another story for another time. Here's a hint: "no more rockets in your pockets".

K.C. Shaw said...

A woman who lost her daughter told me recently that holidays aren't really that bad, because you know they'll be bad and are prepared.

I love July 4th too, especially the small-town kind. People in big cities don't know the pleasure you can get from waiting two or three minutes between fireworks at the town's "big" celebration. :)

Alan W. Davidson said...

"Holidays are going to be hard," is quite an undersatement I'm sure. It will be quite a year of adjustment for you and your boys.

Kelli said...

The 4th of July is my favorite holiday. Thanks again for sharing another great story. We are all here for you and your boys, now, and during the holidays.

Jason's Mom said...

I know how special those 4th of July gatherings have been for you guys and now including your kids. This year and every year will certainly be different, missing that special ingredient that Aimee provided. I believe she would want you to keep the tradition going for yourself & your boys. God be with you as go through these extremely tough days and nights.