BEST 4TH OF JULY - EVER!

    Millville folks worked for a whole year to celebrate its centennial. Committees were formed, and my dad and mom joined up.  Mom was a member of the Methodist Women's Centennial Committee, and they mostly worked on costumes.  Dad was elected secretary of the Y’s Men float-building committee – he loved taking notes.  Many of the townsmen and a few women grew beards and walked around town in bib overalls and flared skirts on Friday night shopping.  My grandmother sewed a gingham pinafore for my mom and a white apron with lace trim to wear on High Street for many events that the wise fathers of our fair city had conjured up for us celebrants.  Dinners, speakers, art exhibits, poster contests, to name a few.

    It was a fine summer in kid-land.  The Elks had the best Memorial Day picnic after the parade, which was the biggest and longest in memory.  Big-time politicians from all over the state made speeches on flatbeds in front of the city hall.  I entered a poster contest to celebrate the big 4th of July.  The winner was assured a picture on the front page of the Daily Republican.  The boys' week this year had bigger blue ribbons.  The American Legion Carnival, with its games of chance, was a big success this year, and it even had a giant Ferris wheel.

    All of this led up to the 4th of July's biggest, longest, bestest fireworks display ever produced for the worthy citizens of the Holly City of America. (According to the Mayor).  The parade came on a sweltering day.  I made an encore bike ride in it with my wilted, used Memorial Day crepe paper decorations. Mom pranced down High Street and swirled in a gown with hoops no less (my granny was a genius) – as a former high school cheerleader, she never missed a chance to perform.  My dad proudly rode the YMCA float – a giant Liberty Bell with a tolling clapper, accompanied by fife music blasting from a record player wired into the truck.

    After the parade, Mom grilled us a special meal – real (not chuck) steaks.  Prime sirloin from Kotoks Market.  A splurge, as they were at least $1.29 a pound instead of the 89 cents a pound shoe leather she usually bought for our "grilling".  If I complained about them being tough, she would snarl, “Just be glad we still have all your teeth; your granny lost all of hers when she was 12!”  Darkness fell with a bang as cherry bombs exploded all over town.  We made our way in our 1955 Chevy Custom to the promised pyrotechnic extravaganza, which was to take place on the field behind City Hall.  We had to park miles away. (or so it seemed) As everyone in town was there – Everyone!

    Mom brought the old O.D. army blanket that we have had forever, and we squatted on its indestructible fabric in an open spot near second base.  The Millville High School Marching Band marched onto the field at precisely 9 PM – playing one of the two patriotic songs they had in their repertoire – It’s a Grand Ole Flag echoed off the center field fence and bounced back off the grandstands behind home plate, setting up a cacophony which added to the magic of the moment.

    The mayor spoke for what seemed like an hour and introduced the MC for the event.  Local “showman” Al Marks – the Jersey George Jessel.   Al, ham that he was, in his deep baritone voice intoned…”Ladies and Gentlemen, Children of all Ages, please direct your eyes to center field as we begin the greatest fireworks display Millville has ever had…BOOM!  A magnificent bomb ripped and reverberated off the City Hall.  Boom - another fired.

    On the field, a fireworks ground display ignited, and it looked like a sailing ship.  Big Al intoned, "In 1733, Captain Buck sailed up the mighty Maurice River (pronounced Morris) and founded the settlement which would become Millville.  Another display ignited a brilliant illustration.  This time, a factory with smoking stacks celebrating our namesake, the mill of Millville...and so it went, one after another display was interspersed with rockets that lit the sky over our little town.  

    And then the big finish – the high school marching band struck up the Stars and Stripes Forever.  Hundreds of bombs soared into the sky.  The sound was deafening.  Windows all over downtown were near shattering.  And to a collective gasp of the throng below, hundreds of white flares soared high above the field and started to descend, hanging from small red, white, and blue parachutes.  The whole park was as bright as day.  And every kid in the place thought the same thing.  "I HAVE TO GET ONE OF THOSE FLAGS!" Hundreds of kids got to their feet and started to run around in every direction, trying to snag a souvenir.   I was up and running toward center field because most of the kids were whooping in the infield.  I picked out a descending chute among the hundreds floating down.  It came closer.  100 feet...50...10...I was so close to grabbing it. Then I heard someone running toward me who also had their eyes on this treasure.  We both were converging on the same spot.  I had to beat them because if I didn't get this one, it would be too late to get another. If only it would float to where I could reach it first?  I dove for it.  He dove for it.

    Our heads met.  I saw stars, and they weren't fireworks.  We had collided at full speed.  He lay there moaning and holding his head.  I checked mine for a skull fracture.  And then I noticed - I was clutching the prize.  I rolled over and stayed there until my mom came and proclaimed that she hoped I didn't break a leg for "that silly piece of cloth!"  The other daredevil limped away in tears.  And the best fireworks ever were over - I had a giant headache.  But I had won my slightly singed Millville Centennial Souvenir.

    A well-earned trophy – and happy because I wouldn’t get another until our Bicentennial!