The Show Must Go On

I almost wish we hadn't volunteered. But every previous year on New Year's Eve, we'd sat in the audience, watching the magic unfolding across the neighborhood lake: the streaks of light rising into the night sky, the explosions of colors, shapes, and sound, and the clouds of smoke drifting slowly away. This time was different because the people who normally took care of it had moved away and everyone else said that they were too busy. Someone had to take care of it.

“The show must go on,” as they say on Broadway.

A week before New Year's Eve, my son Jack did some research online, trying to see what was available to amateurs like ourselves and how much it would cost. With that information in hand, I drove us to the nearest fireworks vendor and, with Jack's help, bought as much as I could afford. Nothing ground-based, because they wouldn't be visible from a hundred or more feet away. Just the ones that launched into the sky. The professional-level fireworks were beyond my means (both financially and skills-wise). These would have to do. I could only hope that our neighbors in the audience wouldn't be disappointed.

The goal was to have everything set up and ready to go by midnight on New Year's Eve, and it almost didn't happen. Maybe we were trying to do too much too soon. The fireworks group that had handled the previous years' shows had known what they were doing. They'd known how long it would take to prepare and still be able to set off the fireworks at midnight. We were decidedly inexperienced.

During the day and evening, the weather refused to cooperate. When it didn't rain, it snowed, and when it didn't rain or snow, it was too windy. We'd stored the fireworks boxes in the garage, so at least they were dry, even if the weather wasn't. I was almost ready to give up, but Jack can be even more stubborn than I sometimes am. He told me to wait; the weather would clear. I wasn't as convinced, but it finally did. Just a little later than I wish it had.

Around 11 pm, we drove over to the neighborhood lake. There wasn't anyone else there yet, but we'd seen some people already leaving their homes and heading for the lake. We set up a tent on the causeway between where the fireworks used to be fired off and where the audience sat. I didn't think we could set up further away or the audience couldn't see much. We pushed the poles dug as deep into the wet ground as they would go. We put waterproof curtains around the sides of the tent. Inside the tent, we used Coleman lamps for light and organized what I'd purchased.

“Try to vary things,” Jack suggested. “Switch it up. Like the professionals do.”

“Do you think there's enough for fifteen or twenty minutes' worth?” I asked.

He nodded. “Maybe a little more than that, actually.”

“Do you think they'll be able to see what we're setting off?” I asked. “Maybe we should set up closer to the audience.”

“I think so,” he said. “And besides, for safety's sake, we need to keep a distance between us and them.”

“I just wish we had the real stuff,” I said with a sigh.

“It'll probably be just fine, Dad,” he said. “Don't worry so much.”

We used several long, narrow planter boxes, stacking them up until they looked like stretched-out pyramids. The fuses hung over the sides, so that they (hopefully) would be easy to see by flashlight beam and could be lit quickly one after the other. Hopefully without accidentally prematurely lighting some of the fuses.

“This might turn out better than I expected,” I said.

“Definitely,” Jack said and checked his watch. “And it's not even midnight yet.”

As we finished up, some of our neighbors came over to see how we were doing. They had large, long cardboard boxes in their arms. They set the boxes down on the ground and looked at our setup.

“We thought you could use some help,” they said. “Not that you need much. This looks great.”

“You can thank Jack for the online research he did,” I said.

“And Dad for buying it all,” Jack said.

They opened the boxes and we were delighted to see more professional-level fireworks. That and what we had should make for a great show. A better show than just our stuff alone would've been, I thought. They took their boxes over to the other side of the lake and started setting up there.

Precious minutes were ticking by and I felt more and more nervous. More people were arriving, sitting down on their blankets, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Some talked with each other as they pointed up at the night sky. The sky was at least staying clear. If the weather could just stay like this, everything could go as planned.

“This is cutting it close,” I said when it was a couple minutes before midnight. “I hope they'll be ready in time.”

Moments later, we saw waving from the other fireworks group.

“Thank God,” I said, relieved. “They're ready.”

“Maybe not,” Jack said cautiously. “That doesn't look like good news to me.”

The other group gestured to themselves. Jack and I ran over to see what was up.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“You're going to have to start first,” one of our neighbors said. “This setup took us a little longer than we expected. But we should be ready to start when you're done.”

“You sure?” I asked.

They nodded.

We ran back to our setup, moved the tent and curtains out of range, and looked at each other.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” Jack said.

Trying to keep out of each other's way, we lit fuse after fuse after fuse. Fireworks leapt into the sky, with long, bright comet-like tails, then exploded above our heads. We couldn't see what it looked like; we were too busy looking down and lighting more fuses. Finally, about twenty minutes later, we lit the final fuse and looked up. The last firework's tail rose higher and higher, and then exploded in a bright burst of red. Its boom faded and Jack and I looked at each other. He gestured that we should wait.

Moments later, a larger, longer tail of sparkling light quickly climbed into the sky. It exploded much higher than ours had and with a louder boom. More tails rose into the sky, one after the other. Flowers of various colors burst into view, fading, and then replaced by golden sparkles falling like autumn leaves, then more flowers. Some flowers were small, others were very large. Some of the leaf-like sparkles were golden, others were silver. At one point, briefly, something looked like the American flag before a cloud of smoke unfortunately obscured half of it.

It was even better where we were standing than it had been last year sitting further away in the audience. We could see much more clearly the reflection of the fireworks on the lake's surface.

The final fireworks launch took our breath away. A minute of what would've been absolute chaos for Jack and me, and they handled it just fine.

The last boom in the sky faded into silence and the smoke clouds drifted away.

What I hadn't expected was what happened next: We heard applause coming from the audience. They were standing up as they applauded. Actually applauding.

“Close your mouth, Dad,” Jack said. “You're creating a draft.”

I laughed softly and closed my mouth.

“That's better,” he said.

The other fireworks group came over to us, and we lined up like actors on a stage, waving and bowing.

“Was it worth it, Dad?” Jack asked me.

“It sure was,” I said, hugging him. “It sure was.”

“Are we helping out next year, too?” he asked hopefully.

I looked at the other fireworks group. “If it's all right with you?”

They nodded. “Definitely. We make a great team.”

“But maybe we can get started a little earlier,” I suggested.

Jack half-snorted, half-laughed. “What? You don't like last-minute heroics?”

I put my hand on top of his head and rubbed my hand back and forth. “Does that answer your question?”

Turning to the other group, I shook their hands and thanked them for their last-minute hard work. Jack also shook their hands.

As the audience gathered their blankets and headed homeward, both of the fireworks groups gathered their equipment and put it in their cars.

For me, it was hard to believe what had happened tonight. It felt more like a dream than reality. We stood beside the car, looking first at the lake and then up at the sky. We could hear the sound of a jetliner passing overhead and see its blinking navigation lights as it made its approach to the airport fifty miles south of us. They'd missed a great fireworks show.

“What a wonderful way to start a new year,” Jack said.

“Couldn't ask for a better one,” I said. “Happy New Year, Son.”

“Happy New Year to you, too, Dad,” he said.