'Stuck a feather in...'

Uh, I wasn't born a 'fortunate son...' no sir, but at the right moments, in tumultuous times the John Fogerty lyrics have resonated. However, today while returning to the bay area, I thought of how the skies will be rearranged, pyro-technisized by dazzling showers, glittering displays of phantom artisans. Grandiose. Flamboyant. And renegade. In most cities fireworks are illegal. But, in every burg across the country today, people are loading up for nightfall. Got no pyro-T's? Locate local Chinatown and slowly do a drive-by. In an evil twist, and in the spirit of the former British landlords, the city of San Francisco has decided to tax it's residents today, not for tea, but for parking. No meter freebies. Lots of pissed citizens. The 1776 divorce perpetuated some of my favorite childhood memories. Fireworks. Legal in Hawaii. Asian holiday? Fire up those works...and chase bad luck down the street. Mother or Grandmother marching through the yard to the royal palm with 2 foot strings of firecrackers, nailing them to the trunk of the tree and lighting the staccato display. Some of the best 4th's in no particular order. 1. Highway 80, stuck in traffic. People standing by the side of their vehicles watching the Marina pyro-T's. 2. On a blanket in Davis. Flat on back, bursting chrysanthemum patterns overhead. 3. Hood of a car outside a stadium pyro-T show. 4. Every year on Manila St. with the kids as the profusion of lights flourish, soliciting their memories.