Here's a GREAT letter-to-the-editor:
http://www.thestate.com/mld/state/news/editorial/letters/12165717.htm
The rocket’s red glare and other misadventures of an average guy
Every Fourth of July, my wife and I buy a bunch of cheap fireworks and launch them in our front yard (we live out in the sticks). Last year, we were nearly cut to ribbons by some little whirly things that ignored their designated flight paths, so this year we skipped the small stuff and bought some really big rockets. We figured they’d be safer.
They would have been, too, if I’d remembered to use a PVC tube to launch them. For some reason, this slipped my mind, and I just laid out wet newspapers and stuck the first rocket through the papers and into the lawn. This was a big rocket, too. It had a wooden shaft like a firing strip. Anyway, I lit this monster and then sat on the porch next to my wife, saying
“This oughta be good.” Well, I was right about that. The rocket ignited, but to our horror it didn’t leave the ground. It just stuck there in the dirt, flaming gloriously and charring a big round hole through my carefully laid-out wet newspapers. In the six seconds or so before it blew up, I had time to realize: A. We were trapped on our little porch; B. We were only 10 feet from the rocket; C. I had no idea what this rocket was going to do.
Finally, the propellant burned out. In the brief silence before the explosion, I thought about using my wife as a human shield, but sadly, there just wasn’t time.
The thing exploded like an incoming mortar round; now I know how Tom Hanks felt while filming “Saving Private Ryan.” Turns out this particular rocket was a huge green starburst with an additional shower of flaming gold crackly things. Also a bunch of reports, which went off in our faces.
Being a guy, as soon as it was over and I realized I wasn’t dead, I wanted to do it again. I even said, “Honey, if you’ll go get the camcorder, I’ll put on some coveralls and safety glasses and....”
Fortunately (in this and many other areas), my wife is much smarter than I am.
DAN ROSCHER
Longs
